My mother’s face flashes behind my eyes, and the wave of emotion catches me off guard.
Not now.
I can’t deal with this right now.
I can’t do anything about it. I can’t help her. I can’t go there and see her like that.
The noise of running footsteps coming up behind me catches my ears. I brace myself for the overly tall, lanky emo guy suddenly jumping on my back and practically swallowing my body with his.
Thank fuck for these idiots.
“Oh, shit!” I almost stumble trying to get my balance with him on my back.
“Baddie Betty Bedlam!” His laughter is hysterical, and I can smell the weed he’s likely just smoked with Mads.
“Whoa—Reed!This is not—” I scream and trip, sending us both crashing to the gritty ground. Reed rolls onto his back and cackles, his eyes closed and breath hardly catching for the fit he’s in. The thumping music inside the club does nothing to drown out our laughs, and the onlooking crowd standing in a line outside practically gawks at us.
“Sorry about the mess,” Mads says to the onlookers.
“You ass—” I shove Reed back down when he tries to sit up, and his head smacks against the light post.
Yet he’s too fucking high to do more than bring his hand to it and laugh out a “Oh shit, that was awesome.”
“You owe me shots,” I tell him.
Mads reaches down and offers me a hand. I wobble on the ascent, catching his forearm to keep from twisting my ankle in these damn platform boots.
“Easy, killer,” he says, chuckling at me. “You good?”
“Always,” I grin at him.
“Hey fuckers, what’s the hold-up?” Zeb asks, joining us from much further ahead. “I thought Avie said we didn’t have to wait in the line?”
“We don’t,” I say. “This asshat thought I’d piggyback him to the door,” I say with a nod at Reed
A slow grin rises on Zeb’s lips. “She’s like ninety pounds, man.”
“You won’t think I’m that small when one of these boots is shoved up your ass,” I joke.
“Ohhh!” Zeb cackles, clutching his stomach. “You know I like ass play, though. You can’t joke about that shit.”
I shove him, knowing he’s joking. “Dick,” I mutter.
Zeb wraps his arm over my shoulder and offers me the flask from his jacket just as Reed hops to his feet and punches the air.
“Race you to the door,” he says to Mads.
“No,” Mads says, even though I know he’s giving in at any moment.
“Chicken shit,” Reed calls him.
Mads smacks Reed’s ear, but Reed dodges it and bends, his arms wrapping around Mads’ waist to wrestle with him. As big of a guy as Reed is, he’s still no match for Mads’ stealth. Reed tries to pick him up, but he’s laughing so hard that he falls over on his knees. And this time, it’s Mads who does the challenging.
He taps Reed’s face, says a quick, “Eat my dick,” and then bolts down the sidewalk.
“You motherfuck—”
Zeb passes me the joint he’s just lit, and I take a long inhale as we head past the line toward the door. Avie is scolding Reed and Mads already, rushing them inside, and when he sees us, he does the same.
