I spend so much energy every day keeping myself pleasant. My clothing is approachable, my hair tucked away, my voice pitched up and calm, my posture hunched, head tilted down or legs crossed to take up as little space as possible. But not now.
It feels good to let a little rage out. Surprisingly so.
The three of them look briefly at Warren, who stands in the kitchen as if his body is stuck in wet cement, then back to me.
Bryce towers in front of me, stupid as ever, with acan you believe thisexpression towards the rest of the guests over my shoulder. I don’t wait for Warren’s backup. This is my house too. My baby sister upstairs.
I’m going to cause a fucking scene.
“There are two minors here that we would never get to see again if you assholes do something stupid or their caseworker finds out. This is a drug-free zone.” I lower my brows farther as I step closer to Bryce and slow my speech. “I said Get. Thefuck. Out.” I might literally have stomped my foot. Embarrassing, but I give myself a pass—confrontation is new for me.
“Warren, man, are you gonna let thisbitchtalk to us like that?” Bryce sneers, head turned towards the kitchen.
My fists close at my sides. I don’t turn to see Warren’s reaction. I can’t seem to bring my attention away from the table. I stare down GiGi, who is wide-mouthed and seems amused. I raise an eyebrow at her.You don’t want to mess with me right now.
To her credit, GiGi nods rapidly, picks up the tin box they were using as a tray and slips it into her purse. Her boyfriend, less agreeable, sucks his teeth as he knocks over a pile of cups on his way out the door.
Bryce follows behind, glaring eyes not leaving me, but I give him no response. I don’t move at all until the front door shuts behind them. I sink into a dining chair, the momentum leaving me alongside the breath in my lungs.
There are several shuffles and steps behind me as I hold my cheeks in my palms. The door shuts with a thud. Matt, I think, mumbles something to Warren about celebrating on a different day but doesn’t wait around for a response before making his exit as well.
I check behind me.Yeah, all gone.I cleared out Warren’s entire party within twenty minutes of joining. Shit. I run two hands over my hair until my forehead rests in the crooks of my forearms.
Warren walks slowly from the kitchen to sit backwards on the dining chair across from me where the three idiots stood a few seconds ago. His broad chest spreads out on either side of the backrest. His jaw is flexed, and his wide eyes are fixated on something across the table. He tightens his hands on the edges of the chair, knuckles as white as his blanched cheeks.
I brace myself for a difficult conversation.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I work up the courage to speak first. “Look, I would say sorry for ruining your birthday but—”
“No.” Warren’s voice is low and forceful. He clears his throat as he wipes a hand over his face, dragging eyelids and lips in his path. “Sorry, just… give me a minute.” The sound of his foot tapping the leg of the table fills the quiet apartment as one song transitions into another from the far side of the living room.
“Are you okay?” I’m completely unsure how to read him right now. At least he doesn’t seem angry with me.
“I’m—I’m trying to calm down… so I don’t follow Bryce.” His chest heaves a few times.
Warren stands and paces between the dining chair and the wall with his favourite art piece of mine. I watch him move as my heart beats in my ears. He’s brimming with focus, with intensity, with angst.
Once his body relaxes and he sits, I pour two glasses of wine and push one over to him.
“Thanks.” He throws it back in a series of gulps before placing the glass back down empty.
I pour him another.
He takes a small sip before speaking. “Chloe, I didn’t know they had drugs on them. I want you to know that. I wouldn’t have—” His jaw clenches as his eyes shut. “I froze. I’m sorry.”
I place my hand on top of his on the dining table, and he meets my eyes, finally.
“I say this with love, Warren, but you have shitty friends.”
He smirks and lifts his thumb between my pointer finger and thumb. He rubs his calloused thumb across the side of my finger. Tingles flood my veins, starting from the side of my knuckle and shooting to the swelling organ in my chest that beats faster with every swipe.
“I think ‘friends’ is a rather strong term. Bryce invited Tyler and Caleb, who brought their girlfriends. I don’t know them. Bryce is a piece of shit. I do know that. I liked Matt—up until tonight.”
I’m not sure what he means by that since Matt didn’t seem like he was partaking in any drug use this evening. He seemed nice enough.
“I’m sorry I ruined your party.” I hadn’t planned on apologising, but I can’t help it. He looks so sad. Like the kid who invited the whole class to his birthday and no one showed.
