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I pull my clothes back on slowly, platform boots heavy against the floor while my fuzzy tube top still smells faintly like smoke and him now, which feels deeply inconvenient emotionally.

Then I glance back at him one last time.

Still asleep, and for one dangerous second, I almost climb back into bed.

Instead, I sneak out of the apartment before my better judgment has time to catch up.

Maybe that’s toxic.

Actually, no. Not maybe.

Definitely.

But he kind of deserves it.

Chapter seven

Chapter Four

Blair

Sneaking out of Dagger’s apartment after letting him absolutely ruin my life for a few hours should probably make me feel worse than it does.

Instead, all I can think is:

Welcome to the club, babe. Population: me, emotionally unstable and making increasingly slutty decisions about it.

The thought makes me grin to myself as I weave through the crowded sidewalk toward the beach entrance, sunglasses sliding down my nose while bass pounds hard enough beneath the sand to rattle straight up through my platform boots and into my bloodstream.

Or maybe that’s the cyanide.

Hard to tell anymore honestly.

Either way, I feel fantastic.

Floaty. Warm. Slightly detached from reality in the fun way, not the concerning way.

Probably.

After sneaking out of Dagger’s apartment earlier, I stopped back at the motel to shower off the sweat, smoke, and evidence of catastrophic emotional decision making still clinging to my skin. I barely made it through drying my hair before hearing two drunk college girls in the room beside mine screaming through the paper-thin motel walls about some massive beach bash happening a few miles down the shoreline.

Apparently half of Severance Point is showing up.

Which, naturally, sounded exactly like the kind of terrible environment I should absolutely avoid.

So obviously I got dressed immediately.

Drinks. DJs. Foam cannons. The whole “questionable decision-making under neon lights” starter pack.

Naturally, my first thought was:Wow.That sounds medically irresponsible.

My second thought was:I should absolutely go.

So now here I am, freshly showered, dressed in an outfit that definitely says emotionally unstable but hot about it, walking toward another overcrowded beach party with enough bad intentions humming through my bloodstream to legally concern several healthcare professionals.

At this point, Severance Point should probably just issue me a loyalty card.

I dig through my holographic pink butterfly clutch while weaving through the crowd toward the beach entrance, fingers finally catching on the tiny plastic baggie buried between lip gloss, gum, and absolutely no good decisions whatsoever.