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“Apple, c’mon. We’re at the airport.” I hear the car door open. “Apple!” Mark shouts.
I try to force my eyes open, but my eyelids are like magnets trying to stay together. “I’m coming,” I mumble.
I’m pulled across the seat, and once my legs are hanging outside the car door, I’m lifted up and moved to lean against the car.
“Apple, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mark demands.
I shake as I abruptly open my eyes. Mark is gripping my shoulders, his face inches from mine.
That explains my shaking body.
“What the hell, Mark?” I swat his hands away. “Why are you shaking me?”
“You’re acting weird.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Can you walk?” His voice is laced with concern.
“Yeah, I can walk.”
I take a step and stumble, the only thing keeping me upright is Mark’s quick reflexes. He raises his brows at me.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I insist, steeling my spine and grabbing my bag from the driver, who’s standing there looking helpless. “Let’s go.”
On the plane, I reach above my head to put my carry-on up, and dizziness hits me so fast that I fall into Mark’s chest.
“Apple, sit down.” He pushes me into my seat and puts our luggage up.
My stomach rolls, but I manage to swallow the vomit that snakes up my throat.
“Mark,” I whisper, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall. “I don’t feel good.”
I don’t know what is going on, but my body feels wrong. I rub my temples, the stinging pain behind my eyes more than I can bear.
“I know.” He holds my hand, trying to comfort me. “I texted my brother. The club will meet us in Vegas.”
Mark continues talking to me, asking me questions, but I can’t respond. My mouth won’t cooperate, and my eyes are steel doors, refusing to open.
Sleep… I just want to sleep.
“Apple.”
I jolt awake and rub my arm. “Ow.”
“Sorry, you wouldn’t wake up, and I had to pinch you.” Mark stands in the aisle, our luggage straps criss crossed across his chest. “Let’s go, we’re here.”
As he leads me through the terminal, his grip on my arm is tight, but I still struggle to stay upright and stumble every few steps. Based on the people gawking at me, I know I’m a sight to see.
Maybe I’m drunk. Did I drink today?
My thoughts are jumbled, and nothing makes sense.
Are we in LA? Where are Kyle and the girls? Is Malice here?
I can’t stay focused, and Mark steers me through the crowd like a toddler.
Once outside, I take a deep breath of fresh air as Mark urges me to sit down in the covered cab pick-up station. My head lolls to the side, and I see Mark’s mouth open, and his eyes widen just before mine drift closed.
