“What is your problem?” I sneer.
“I think you’ve had enough for today,” he says.
“And I think you’re being an ass.” I shove his hand off the drink, spilling it in the process, and that’s when I throw my hands in the air. “Good fucking job, dude. Hey, Des, can I get—”
“No, you’re all done here, Bonnie.”
Mads goes to take my hand, and I shove him as hard as I can, staggering into the person behind me. “Fuck off, man!”
“Hey, you heard the girl,” the guy behind me says. “Get lost.”
I settle against the guy and smirk at the glare on Mads’ face.
“Fine. Drink yourself into a coma, Bon,” Mads seethes. “Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m done.”
“Buh-bye,” I say, wiggling my fingers as he fades into the crowd.
As he disappears, tears prick my eyes, and I clench my jaw to keep myself from falling apart.
Good job.
Run him off, too.
Alienate your favorite people. That’s your true talent, isn’t it?
“What is that guy’s problem?” the man behind me says, laughing. “Big brother?”
I push off him and down the shot Mads left behind. “Something like that,” I mutter, glancing his way. He’s dressed in a flannel shirt, a fake mustache, and a beanie on his head, a fake axe in his belt. I snort at the costume.
“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask, putting my hand on the stool as I start to sway.
“Lumberjack,” he says, smiling beneath the beard.
His buddy in the blue gamer mask nods along with the music, turning his head toward me, and I peer between the creeps.
“Right… Well, thanks for the backup,” I say, ready to get out of there.
The hand he grabs my arm with almost makes me fall. It’s abrupt, an unexpected twist, and I whirl back around with all of my defenses up.
“That’s all I get?” he asks. “I helped you out. I think you at least owe me a drink.”
“Oh, is that what you think?” I roll my eyes. “I don’t owe you anything. You don’t get a reward for two seconds of chivalry that you only did because you thought I’d suck your dick and thank you for it. That was myfriend. He walked away because he respects me. Not because of any role you think you played.”
His smile widens. “One drink,” he pushes.
I scoff. “Sorry, dude. Not interested,” I say.
Despite my protest, he pushes the second drink from in front of him toward me—a drink I just saw the bartender place there a minute earlier. “One drink,” he insists. “It’ll just sit here if you don’t take it. You wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good vodka, would you?”
I raise my chin and take the drink from his hand, glaring at him when I suck some of it down.
“There. I’ve taken your one drink. Goodbye,” I say, and I pivot before he can say anything else.
Where is Zeb?
The music beckons me onto the dance floor. I note a few familiar faces, and I force a smile at them as I unsteadily make my way over. Every second that the music strums through me, every touch from a stranger, and laugh that reverberates in my ears… I sink beneath all of it. Down and down and down,becoming dizzier, my breathing seeming to slow so much that the world appears to be in slow motion.
I lose track of time. It could be minutes that I’m dancing or hours. I feel the trickle of sweat rolling down my face, the mop of my wet hair sticking to my bare shoulders. Eventually, images that I shouldn’t be able to see invade my mind. When I close my eyes, I see the bronchi branches in my lungs—which is fucking weird because the last time I saw them, I was on a very high dose of mushrooms.
