“No, thank you.” I couldn’t think of anyone worse to lose my wits around than this guy. “Never tried. Never appealed to me.”
“Takes the edge off sometimes, you know?”
“I thought you liked dangling off the edge.”
He exhales smoke through a laugh. “Yeah, but even I need to pull back from time to time. When I get too close to tipping over.”
I purse my lips, tapping my foot. Desperately fighting with myself not to care. I do not care.
There’s that glimpse of humanity in his eye again. Not grief this time. There’s a laziness there, almost exhaustion, like he’s been carrying around a weight that’s finally broken his back. The features that are always pinched around a taunting, menacing smirk, now lax and smoothed, draw me in a little.
“Well, I’m glad you’re not tipping over,” I mutter, “would hate to have to deal with that if the version of you I already get on a daily basis is actually you on the right side of the edge.”
Another chuckle and this time it’s amused, light and endearing. “Come sit with me,” he says, squinting at me through the smoke. “You don’t have to get high just – chill.”
“Are you gonna point a gun in my face if I say no?”
He giggles then. Outright giggles, the pinch of his cheeks closing the remaining slit of his eyes. The dimples appear. The ones that make him look harmless and adorable. “Only free will here tonight, darling.”
This side of Fiz is already pulling me in. It’s an even more alluring version than the quiet, pensive Fiz I had upstairs earlier. It’s nice to see something other than predatory menace on him.
I walk over and plant myself on the armchair. He watches me, head lolled to the side, eyes bloodshot. I notice an open packet ofchocolate biscuits to the side of him. I purse my lips, unsure why I feel the urge to smile.
My throat clenches around a ball of cotton. Now I’m sitting closer to him, I can see those tempting, beautiful features up close. I take a gulp of my juice. “You missed it?” I gesture to the joint in his hand as “One Dance” by Drake starts.
“Fuck yes.” He taps the tip of it into the ashtray perched on the seat beside him, bobbing his head subtly to the beat of the song. “I like The Hunt and the Cleanse and all but… fuck if I don’t love my vices.”
I let myself grin. His voice is so different too. It’s quiet and relaxed and… inviting. Even silkier than usual. He’s a totally different person to the one who’s tormented me for weeks.
His eyes study me lazily. “How are you, you know, after earlier?”
I purse my lips. “Fine. It’s what I get for saving his life, right? Don’t know why I expected anything to change.”
Fiz gives me a crooked smile. “Regardless, I’m grateful. That you saved him.”
I shrug, shoving away the sensation of Fiz’s lips crashing onto mine. “Hard to say no when you’re faced with death yourself.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I was panicking.”
“I get it. For that one time only, I actually understood your motives.”
He takes another puff, blowing it out slowly. “I couldn’t do it myself. Me and needles don’t go well together.”
I incline my head. Of course, the flawless, untouched skin that I’m reluctantly drawn to. No piercings, no tattoos like his peers. Even when faced with a crisis, he couldn’t. “Any reason?”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “No reason that won’t make us both depressed as shit.”
I nod. “Fair enough.”
A moment of silence passes and, dare I say, it’s a comfortable one. This guy’s not got an evil aura when he’s stoned out of his brain.
“I never told you how impressed I was about what you did to Caden,” he says, eyeing me intensely.
“Which part?” He could be referring to the several occasions I’ve attacked him, stabbed him with a scalpel, pulled him down the stairs with me, head butted him, spat in his face… Damn, when I put it like that… no wonder he can’t stand me. Maybe we’re two sides of the same coin.
“Riding him while he’s unconscious and on death’s door.”
I feel my cheeks flush. I forgot about that one. “Nowhere near as bad as what you guys do all the time.”
