I groaned, rolling onto my back, staring at the bottom of the bunk above me. My skin felt too tight for my body. Every movement of the bus sent a friction shiver through my nerves.
I needed an output. I needed to ground the signal before I short-circuited.
I grabbed my phone. The screen seemed too bright.
Emergency. Again.
Callie’s typing bubbles appeared instantly.
Did you finally let one of them kill you in the fun way?
It’s happening. The snowball thing.
My suppressants aren't working.
Define "not working." Like, you're a little warm? Or you're about to start building a nest out of their dirty laundry?
I hesitated. Typing it made it real.
Alfie talked me to orgasm through a door.
The bubbles disappeared. Then reappeared. Then stopped. Then reappeared.
I need you to be very specific. Through a door? Like... shouting?
No. Murmuring. He sat in the hallway. I sat in the green room. He narrated what he would do to me if I let him in.
Cal.
Callie, I came so hard I think I strained an ab muscle.
JESUS H. CHRIST.
Okay. Okay. Breathing. I am breathing for both of us.
Wait. He didn't come in?
No.
You were crying out?
Yes.
And he smelled you?
He smelled everything. He said he wanted to get drunk on it.
And he still didn't open the door?
No. He said, "Copy your no like gospel."
I stared at the words on the screen.Copy your no like gospel.
Zia. Listen to me.
That man is a unicorn. A jagged, punk-rock, glitter-covered unicorn.
If your meds aren't working, it's because your brain has finally decided it's safe to crash. You've been holding the wall up for years. You just found three guys who will hold it up for you without asking for a ticket to the show.
