“If that’s all,” he said, breaking the quiet, “you should probably go now. If you don’t, I might end up ruining your life.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No.” Nate wasn’t too far gone to understand threatening a Brumal member would be the same as courting death. “I might hate myself, but I don’t actually want to die.”
“That’s a very interesting and personal thing to tell a stranger.”
Nate winced. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know that. I’m bothering you. That’s why I said you should leave. If you stick around for too long, I’ll inevitably do something burdensome and—”
“Stop talking,” the order was delivered in an authoritative tone.
Nate instantly shut his mouth.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re the worst kind of drunk?” Kazimir asked, taking a step closer.
Nate risked shaking his head once. “I’ve only ever been drunk in front of a couple of people before.” Mostly other Vitality students who’d been too wasted to notice if he was acting out or being moody. Kazimir had most likely come in here to take a piss, and yet now he was forced to deal with a blabbing Nate. “Sorry.”
He was in the process of dropping his gaze when suddenly Kazimir captured his chin and forced his head back up. The breath caught in Nate’s chest, and a flash of annoyance at being handled like a kid shot through him before it was snuffed out by the reminder that he was the one causing the problems here, not the Brumal member.
That was actually almost funny. That he could be worse than the mafia. Cause more trouble for others. Be a public menace.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Kazimir questioned with a frown. “No. Don’t stop. It’s better than the weird, timid act you’ve been putting on since I came in. I don’t recall you being the type to cower, Nate Narek. Why start now? Is it the alcohol? Does it make you weak?”
“No,” he admitted, another pain shooting through his chest at the admission. “This is who I really am. I’m weak.”
Kaz released him with a scowl. “Pathetic.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.”
“This isn’t any fun.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” Kaz eyed him and seemed to come to some grand realization. “How much of this will you remember in the morning?”
Nate thought it over. “I’m not sure.”
“Do you usually remember the day after you’ve been drinking?”
“I’ve never had this much to drink.” Because that would have meant giving up control to something else, a substance no less, and then how would Nate be able to try his best? What if Nuri called him, or Bay, or literally anyone else that he knew, needing something? “I can’t be useful if I’m drunk. If I can’t handle my own shit.”
Kazimir clicked his tongue. “Hate to break it to you, Pretty Boy, but you’re failing at both of those things at the moment. You’re drunk off your ass,” he dug his pointer finger into Nate’s shoulder, pushing him against the wall, grunting when Nate almost fell over again from the movement, “and you for sure can’t handle anything right now.”
“That’s not true.” It was. It totally was, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck hearing it coming from someone else. Especially someone like Kazimir Ambrose. “I suck. But you suck too.”
“That so?” Kaz drawled, and Nate was too far gone to take note of the warning bells.
“You’re mafia. Of course, you suck. People are afraid of you.”
“Not everyone,” he said. “Even when they should be.”
Nate blinked at him, his mind taking too long to catch up, but he got there eventually. “Oh. You mean me. That was a dig.”
Kazimir grew quiet again.
“Aren’t you going to leave?” Nate asked. “Or like…use the bathroom?” Hadn’t he come in here to lock himself in a stall? Right.
He went to move past the Brumal member, only to be yanked back by the sleeve of his jacket. Nate yelped, glaring when his back hit the wall again, though his annoyance only lasted so long since, not a second later, Kazimir had his arm propped at the side of his head, crowding him in.
