We lie back, Kai wrapping me in his arms. I snuggle close, exhaling happily as I close my eyes and listen to the music.
But the serenity is only temporary.
The DJ starts playing a remix of Jefferson Airplane’s ‘White Rabbit’ and that causes a flood of memories from Halloween to burst into my mind.
Bastian pinning me and Kai side by side in that crypt.
The way he forced Kai onto his knees to eat me out.
Oh, and who could forget how Bastian forced me to admit that I thought abouthimwhile I fucked Kai?
Oh my God.
Is that why Kai can’t get it up tonight? Why he’s been running hot and cold since Halloween? No…no. That’s ridiculous. He has other shit to deal with.
Fuck.
He’s probably still processing the fact that he’s bi. I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to speak to him again, but I can’t stand him pushing me away if I try.
I should try, though.
Maybe now.
“So, you know—” I pause to clear my throat “—I’m totally here if you ever want to talk about?—“
Kai sits up abruptly, running his hands through his hair. I don’t think he even heard my meek little voice.
“Jesus! My brain won’t shut the fuck up! Kruger said this shit was indica.”
“Kruger’s a fuckingliar,” I declare loudly, taking a wild stab in the dark. I’ve never really been a big stoner, so half of what Kai says when he’s speaking about weed goes right over my head.
Kai’s leg keeps bouncing against mine. “He knows I hate sativas when I’m drinking.”
“Asshole.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“I’ll help you bury the body.”
We lie there, aggressively not relaxing, as my mind spits random questions at me like it’s prepping us for a weirdly specific round of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.
Whose crypt did we fuck around in at the Halloween party? Did Kai pick up his hat, or is it still lying there? Why do I suddenly want nachos so badly?
And then, out of nowhere?—
Dad’s car. Well, my car now, I guess.
God, how did I manage to forget my dad’s dead? Oh, right…he won Worst Father of the Year award nearly two decades running.
I sit bolt upright.
“Kai! God, Kai!” I slap him with the back of my hand.
“What?” He sounds half-annoyed, half-relieved at the interruption.
“My car’s still at Rooke’s house.”
It takes him a moment to process before he murmurs, “Fuck.”
