Gemma gives me a small smile, swipes her thumb over my cheek, and then backs out of the shower stall with one final glance over her shoulder.
“We’re leaving in five minutes,” she says when she hits the door.
What the hell just happened?
I almost slam my forehead against the tile out of frustration. I should have kissed her.Fuck. And why did I go all sad girl?
God, someone slice my wrists already.
That was so embarrassing.
When the water fails at drowning me like I want it to, I grumpily wrap my towel around me and tread to the locker room. I should shove her against one of these lockers and fuck her until she can’t feel her legs if she’s around this corner; however, it’s Zeb that I see first, and the look on his face makes every other thought quiet.
“What’s that look?” I ask, grabbing my bag.
“Waiting on Reed to message me back,” he says, hand on the towel around his waist. “He texted and said, ‘You won’t believe who just DM’d me.’”
“That’s terrifying,” I say, pulling on a pair of biker shorts.
Zeb finally looks at me and grins. “I thought you’d be in there longer,” he said quietly.
“Shut up,” I mutter, not wishing to embarrass myself more than I already am.
He scoffs. “Whatever you say—Comeon, Reed,” he mutters.
“Poor little Zebby doesn’t like to be edged,” I taunt him. I grab an oversized ripped t-shirt and slide it over my head, then wrap a choker around my neck.
He flips me off, making me laugh. I’m putting on my Converse when the phone dings again, and I watch as Zeb’s expression falters.
“Motherfucker,” Zeb says.
“What’s up? Who is it?”
“We need to get back.” He drops his towel and picks up his boxer briefs. “It was fucking Rad.”
I blink at the mention of him. “What the hell?”
“Yeah.” He quickly puts on a shirt. “He asked about joining our stream tonight. We need to lock everything down—”
A bag lands heavily on the bench beside me, and I look over to find Gemma standing there, her face stiff and dark, almost enraged. “Who did you say?” she asks slowly, her tone stern.
“Rad,” Zeb replies. “You might not have heard of him. He’s our ex—”
“Oh, I know who the hell he is,” she snaps. “What the fuck does he want?”
SEVEN YEARS EARLIER
BONNIE
My phone buzzesin my pocket. I quickly grab it; however, the moment I see the name across the screen, my stomach drops, and all I want is to throw it down the sewer grate I’m walking by.
DAD
Bonnie, I know this is tough.
She needs you.
Come home soon. I don’t know how much longer she has.
