"Adrian?" I glance around the parking lot, suddenly aware that a few teachers are still loading up their cars and my boyfriend looks like the local drunk. "What are you doing here?"
He pushes off the car, takes a step toward me. "Came to see my girl."
The smell hits me before he does—whiskey, sharp and sour. It's 3:30 in the afternoon and he reeks like he's been marinating in it.
"You're drunk." I take a step back, keeping distance between us. "You need to go home."
"I'm fine." He reaches for me, fingers closing around my wrist. "Just wanted to surprise you."
His grip is too tight. Not painful yet, but firm enough that I'd have to yank to get free.
"Adrian." I keep my voice low, aware of the lingering eyes. "Let go."
Instead, he pulls me closer, his other hand sliding to my waist. "Come on, baby. Give me a kiss."
I turn my face away just as his lips brush my cheek. "Not here. Not like this."
"Why not?" His words slur together. "I'm your boyfriend, aren't I?"
Mrs. Chen from fourth grade is watching now, concern etched across her face. The last thing I need is the school administration getting involved in my personal life. I force myself to relax, to soften my tone even as anger burns in my chest. "You are. ButI'm not kissing a drunk man in front of my students' parents. So let go, and we can talk."
Something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or shame—and his grip loosens.
I pull my wrist free, rubbing the red marks his fingers left behind.
"The clinic called," I say, tucking my hands into my pockets so he can't see them shake. "About Mom's payment. They said it hasn't gone through."
Adrian's jaw tightens. "Yeah. That's actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."
My stomach flips. "What do you mean?"
"Not here." He gestures toward his car—a black sedan that's parked crooked across two spaces. "Come on. I have a surprise for you."
"Adrian, I don't?—"
"Please." The word comes out raw, desperate. "Just trust me. I need you to come with me. It's important."
I look at his car, then back at him. At the way he's swaying slightly on his feet. At the panic lurking beneath the alcohol haze.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to say no. To get in my own car and drive away.
But Mom's payment didn't go through. And Adrian is the one who's supposed to handle it. And if I don't figure out what's going on, she could lose her spot at St. Catherine's.
"Fine." I grab my tote bag from my car. "But you're not driving. Give me the keys."
"I'm fine to?—"
"Keys, Adrian. Now."
He fishes them out of his pocket and drops them into my palm, muttering something under his breath that I choose to ignore.
The drive starts normal enough. Adrian slouches in the passenger seat, eyes closed, one hand pressed to his temple like he's fighting off a headache. I keep both hands on the wheel and try to ignore the dread pooling in my gut.
"Where am I going?" I ask.
"Take the expressway toward Newark."
"Newark? Why?—"
