But that’s what everyone tells me, unless I plan to go to grad school.
What I want to do is apparently worse. Get a certificate in Jungian psychology. Not as prestigious, apparently, as heading to Queens. Over the summer I tried my hand at coaching, using tarot cards not to read the future, but look for symbols.
Even less than prestigious, Nolan convinced me to give it up.
“What?” Jackson laughs a little. “Listen, boys. You guys are going pro soon. You don’t want to deal with a mess like Neve.You know what she did last weekend? She sucked my best friend’s dick!”
Actually untrue.
I fucked him.
“Sounds like you need better friends.” A deep, low voice. Canadian. Northern Ontario. After nearly four years here, I can finally differentiate some locations from others.
That must be the dark-haired guy.
I bite my lip to stop from laughing out loud.
Jackson scoffs, the sound full of unease. “You’re not wrong. Anyway, I’m just going to look after her?—”
“No.” The other boy. The blond one, if I’m right.
The way he speaks, he doesn’t match how he looks. Not right now.
There’s a coldness to his tone that wasn’t there before.
Even I can feel the tension in the silence.
“You’re not,” he keeps going. “Go home,” he says quietly, “or you won’t make it back.”
A second passes.
A chill etches itself down my spine.
Another second.
Then Jackson, drunk and stupid, says, “Listen, get the fuck out of my way or?—”
There’s a thud, cutting off his words, then a sharp intake of breath. From him.
“Go home, or I’ll fuck you up, I promise.” The blond boy.
My eyes widen.
I didn’t expect it from him, but I squeeze my thighs together and try not to look like that exhale emoji because damn, it’s hot.
Another moment of silence.
Then Jackson says, “All right, all right, but can you just…” He trails off. “Can you just make sure she doesn’t freeze to death out here?” And for one split second, I feel a little sorry for him.
We met at a party. I gave him a wasted lap dance, and for two weeks, the best sex of his life. In turn, he paid me cash, “just because.” I’m not an escort, but I sure as hell took the money.
Nolan would have killed me—or maybe him—if he knew that.
“Of course,” the blond says, his condescending tone back. “We’ll take care of her.”
I don’t know what’s happening now, but after a few moments I hear the dark-haired one say, “Now we find her, and you drive us home.”
“Oh,” the blond says. “I didn’t drive back to stalk you. I took a walk.”
