Murder. Mayhem. Lots and lots of bleeding bodies.
“Jules…”
She purses her lips and then licks them dramatically. “Yes. I’m…”
“Who the hell’s baby is it?” I scream, the question bursting from my lungs like a Jack jumping from his box. This is…unbelievable. Inconceivable. Just…not possible. Julia Brooks has been my best friend my entire life. We’ve grown up together, leaned on each other, been the one thing we could count on for as long as I can remember.
She’s beautiful and smart and…way too fucking single to be pregnant. I’d know if some fucker slipped her the greasy knob. I’dknow.
Right?
Right??
“Ace—” Julia starts, but I can’t fucking breathe. This VIP booth is suddenly the size of an anthill, and I am King Kong. I need space. I need air. I need answers.
“Whose is it, Julia? Because I’ll fucking kill him myself.”
Scottie leans toward Blake, but I barely hear her as she asks. “Is it just me, or has this night had a lot of talk of killing?”
My eyes are too clogged, my vision too red.
“Who, Jules? Tell me who. I swear to fucking everything, I will strangle whatever motherfucker—”
“Oh my God, Acer, relax!” Julia snaps, finally breaking character and sucking in her stomach. “I’m just kidding! I’m not pregnant!”
“You’re not?” My whole body shakes, sweat beading on my forehead and forcing me to wipe at it. “You’re not pregnant?”
Julia rolls her eyes like she didn’t just scramble my insides like motherfucking eggs. Hell, with the way I’m feeling, I’m certain she added an entire bottle of hot sauce on those fuckers.
“Of course I’m not freaking pregnant, Ace,” she responds through an oblivious snort. “I’m on birth control.”
Fucking birth control.Birth control.
Of course, Ace. I’m still sleeping with all these no-good fucks, but I’m protected.
I know Julia isn’t a virgin—I was there for the aftermath of senior prom and Tommy Gerkin’s little dick—but fuck me, she’s not a sleep-around type of girl. She’s not even a date-around or hookup kind of girl, and the mere idea of her having sex with rando college dudes makes me want to puke. Or break shit. Maybe both. I tug at the collar of my shirt. It’s hot, and I can’t swallow. For some reason, my tongue won’t allow it.
“Goodness, Jules,” Scottie says through a giggle. “You’re crazy, girl.”
Julia laughs and shrugs, taking a drink from her fancy cocktail and turning to face the dance floor, where the DJ is doing a remix of a familiar song.
My limbs won’t move, and my jaw has a permanent tic. The good vibes of the night are gone, and all I can see are visuals of my best friend—the most beautiful woman in the world—on her back with wide blue eyes and splayed blond hair while some schmuck pile-drives her on his patchwork dorm room couch.
MyGod. How didn’t I… How couldn’t I…
Julia. Jules…
Blake grabs Finn’s shoulder. “Hey, uh, why don’t you hold down the fort here with the girls while I take Ace outside for a minute?”
Finn nods, I think, but all I feel is Blake’s gentle guidance ashe grabs on to me and moves me out of the booth, down the steps, and through the crowded club.
A few women brush up against us on our way out, but I can’t see anything but Julia’s face. Her smile, her laugh, her big blue eyes.
Our lives together, intertwined like vines, dance inside my head like a montage over the vibing crowd on the way to the exit.
We walk down the long hallway to the front door and step outside, moving down the sidewalk toward a group of people who’ve come out to smoke their cigarettes.
I welcome the cloying smell of smoke, hoping it’ll suffocate me. This…this feeling is not good. It’s not good at all.
