“In fact, I didn’t ask you about shit. You’re the one broadcasting your life. As if anyone would care about your ranting on Instagram Live.”
I held back my insults because they’d go too far.
“Help me,” he demanded. I looked at him puzzled. He was so beaten up that he was unrecognizable.
I grumbled but decided to oblige. I held him up as he got back on his feet. As I grabbed his rock-hard bicep, I inhaled the scent of mint and fabric softener.
“Why’d you leave your car at Tropical? Who brought you here?”
He sneered with his split lip, almost amused by my morbid curiosity.
“I take that back. I don’t want to know.”
James grimaced in pain and as much hatred as I felt for him, a part of me felt bad for him.
“That bad, huh?”
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t think so, because you got high beforehand.”
James collapsed with his back against the building wall as he fiddled with a clear piece of rolling paper.
“Watching what I’m doing?”
He said it, barely raising his head. But even with that slight movement our eyes locked for a second, just enough time to make me flinch.
I shook my head in an attempt to shake off the feeling that he aroused in me.
“I’m saying it because I saw you put that crap in your mouth first.” I didn’t know what it was called, but it was definitely illegal.
“It numbs my mouth and face.”
“It numbs your brain,” I quipped.
He seemed amused by the joke. “That, too, but most of all it numbs my mouth. You should try it. Maybe it’ll shut you up for two consecutive minutes,” he said before slowly and confidently licking the rolling paper.
William’s footsteps brought our bickering to a halt.
“What are you talking about?”
“My tongue. And yours,” explained James placidly.
“What?”
Stunned, William stared at him, and then decided not to take the bait. He set the first aid kit on the ground.
“That’s not true. Forget it,” I murmured, pouring some alcohol on the cotton ball Will handed me.
I didn’t know what was worse, James’s split lip or his bloody eyebrow.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
James blocked my wrist, bringing it above his head before I could get any closer.
“Look at your cheekbone, it’s really bad, James,” William said before turning to me. “His wounds need to be disinfected. There’s a risk that they could get infected, isn’t there?”
“Do I havenursewritten on my face?” I snapped.
