“Do we have a problem, inmates?”
The good news was that our shower adventure was over. The bad news followed after we returned to our cells.
“No dinner for you two.” The guard informed us before leaving. “Troublemakers get punished in this institution.”
And just like that, I regretted skipping lunch. And breakfast.
“Are they allowed to do that?” I grumbled as my stomach growled.
Adam shrugged. “They can do whatever they want. They have the worst of the worst here. Lifers. Death row inmates. A few cannibals, too, from what I’ve heard.”
“Peachy,” I said with a sigh. “Not only are we skipping dinner, but we might also become one.”
The entire day was a disaster. I made a fool out of myself, Adam almost strangled the creepy dude, and we both made that guard’s naughty list. Speaking of disasters, the image of Adam’s scarred back was imprinted on my mind. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it last night, but it was dark in the cell, and he never turned his back to me. If those scars were as old as they looked, he got them when he was… a teen, maybe? Who would do that to a child?
I slid out of my jumpsuit, glancing at Adam, who was brushing his teeth.
“What happened to your back?”
He froze on the spot. A few moments passed before he spat out the toothpaste and answered my question.
“This and that. Way back when.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t say anything.
“So, not that asexual, huh?” he countered, looking at me over my shoulder.
“Um… it was the adrenaline,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.
“Actually, adrenaline causes erectile dysfunction.”
“Why don’t you just fuck off?” I snapped, glaring at him. “I’m sick and tired of you harassing me. Leave me alone!”
I threw myself on the bed, fuming.
“I’m not harassing you,” Adam said calmly. “In fact, I helped you back there earlier.”
“I didn’t ask you to. What’s that guy’s deal, anyway?”
“I guess he likes your pretty face.”
“I don’t have a pretty face.”
“Yeah, you do.”
I propped myself on my elbows, looking at him in confusion.
“You think I’m pretty?”
“I’m sure you have a mirror somewhere at home, Jordan.”
When he reached for the mattress on the upper bunk and threw it on the floor, I flinched.
“What are you doing?” I said, wondering if he’d lost his mind.
“It’s a test,” Adam replied, lying down on the mattress. “Never mind me.”
How? He was so close to me that I could touch him if I wanted to, and I wanted to. And what kind of a test was it? As if he would tell me, even if I asked him.
