It’s not a knock,it’s a demand.
Chapter 31
Sorry
Rafe
Iswear under my breath, cross the room, pulse still racing, and yank the handle open. Rithy nearly falls through it, swaying, completely drunk, words spilling before I can even speak.
“What the hell—?”
He bursts out laughing, pushes half-way inside, using the door as balance, laughter shaking through him until he doubles over, bracing a hand on his knee.
I frown, confused, glancing from him to her. “What are you doing here?”
He can’t stop. He slides down the base of the doorframe, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. He leans back, eyes glinting when they catch hers, a grin forming in a way that makes something sick twist in my gut.
“You’realreadyhere?” he says, head tilting lazily toward Kasia. “Tonight?”
Then he looks at me, his grin now wide and cruel, like it’s some private joke between us.
“She’s on your block list so soon? That was easy.” He tips his head toward Kasia again, “Doesn’t wait for you toleave,so you can’t blowup his phone begging for a reply. Simpler that way, no headache after. Brutal, our Obelus.” He throws her a wink, slurring everything to hell. Reminding me of the person I used to be, fucking my way through a heartbreak, something I’m not proud of. Someone he knows I haven’t been in alongtime.
“What thefuck, Rithy?” I snap, heat crawling up my neck.
He tips his head skyward, laughing harder, falling onto his back. He lies there, half in the hallway, half in the room, legs sprawled inside, hair catching the light from the corridor. He stares at the hallway ceiling like he’s talking to God, or maybe himself.
“Just anotherfucking groupie,” he says, voice slurring, still smiling. “Why was I even worried?”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, stepping toward him, but before I can reach him, Kasia moves. She’s already at the door, stepping over his body, her dress brushing his arm. I reach for her wrist.
“Kasia, wait—”
“Let go,” she says in a clipped tone. Her eyes are hard, bright and above all,hurt.
Rithy lifts his head, eyes following her, laughter turning wicked. “Gone so soon?” he calls after her, voice sing-song and cruel. “But hisbest performancewas just about to start!”
She’s gone before I can find another word. Rithy’s laughter dwindles, his body going slack, the relief and the drink dragging him under. I look down at him, jaw tight, breath shaking. I nudge him with my foot.
“Get up, Rith. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”
He mumbles something, still smiling. I stand there, torn between rage and exhaustion, considering whether to shove him the rest of the way out and let him sleep in the hallway as punishment, like he's just another tray left out from room service. Then I glance toward theopen hall. If anyone walks by, press, fans, crew, it’s over. His name, mine, maybe even hers would be out there. All of it.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter. I grip his legs and pull him inside, hauling him backward across the carpet. His back scrapes, his laughter echoing weakly until it fades to a hum. He’s dead weight, and I nearly trip over him by the time I get him clear of the door. I pull it shut with the leftover anger burning through me, the latch clicking loud in the stillness. He keeps mumbling to himself, drunk nonsense, still grinning.
“You can sleep on the goddamn floor,” I say, standing over him. “Now I have to spend tomorrow trying to fix what you just broke.Fuck.” I drag a hand over my face, tired, hurt, and confused. No response. Just a sigh, half a laugh.
I crouch again. He’s staring up at me now, eyes glassy but lucid enough to sting. I reach out and brush the hair from his face, it’s a habit, years of nights like this, one of us always looking out for the other when we got too drunk, wasted or lonely. Even now, even after that bullshit, I can’t stop caring.
“Why are you doing this?” I sigh, poking his forehead. “I really don’t understand you sometimes.”
He blinks slowly, and for a moment there’s clarity under the haze. His hand finds mine, warm and shaking.
“Rafe,” he murmurs, “you’re the only one that does. You know that.”
The anger drains out of me all at once, leaving only ache. I squeeze his hand, sigh again, and let it go.
“Right now?I don’t,” I say. “I just want to punch you.”
