A knot forms in my chest, and I drag in a slow breath before shoving the phone back into my pocket. A camera shutter clicks behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see Adriana lowering her phone, already smirking at whatever she's going to post to Instagram. I roll my eyes and turn back to the window, staring out at the city like it might somehow swallow the part of me that still wants to call her.
“You used to beg,” she says, pulling me back into conversation. “Chicago. Remember?”
“That was years ago.”
Her smile turns sharp. “You were on your knees...beggingfor a taste.”
“I was on drugs,” I snap, stepping into the kitchen again. “Like every goddamn time.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. The pill is settling in now, smoothing the world and slowing my reactions. Exactly what I want. I’ve taken only opioids and opiates to keep me down. Meth and cocaine make me viciously horny, and I don’t really want that right now. I don't want anyone anymore.
Other thanher.
Adriana pouts, eyes locked on her screen when my phone vibrates. I know she tagged me in that photo, but I refuse to look at it.
“I don’t have the patience for this,” I say.
Her gaze snaps back to me. “Is this about her?”
Nausea immediately clamps over my stomach. I look past her to the windows, the rain streaking down the glass. “Don’t finish that thought,” I say quietly.
She watches me for a second, then smiles. “Figures.” She steps closer again. This time her fingers brush my arm, nails dragging lightly over the dried blood at the track mark.
I yank away.
“Fuck, Jude,” she snaps. “What—am I suddenly the villain now?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “You always were.”
She tilts her head. “Careful.”
“Why?” I ask. “You gonna drug me again? Call it consent while I can’t stand? Ride my fucking fingers while I’m nodding out?”
Her eyes flash. “I don’t want to do that,” she says, suddenly softer.
I don’t answer.
The anger drains out of her. She exhales and rubs her temple. “Whatever. You’ll come around.”
“I won’t.”
She sighs. “Neither of us have achoicein the matter. If I’m stuck in this hell, I at least want you. I fucking hate everything else, Jude. I always have.”
I move for the coffee, done with this conversation. The pill hums in my bloodstream, dulling the nausea, the rage...
Then—
“You know…you just need to let that little bitch go,” she mutters. “Emm—”
My hand is around her throat before the name finishes forming. I slam her into the wall. She gasps—then smiles.
“There he is,” she murmurs, grinding into me like this is her idea of filthy intimacy. “There’s my boy.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and tighten my grip.
You sick, stupid fucking bitch.
“Come on,” she whispers, nails digging into my arms.
I tear myself away before I kill her.
