Page 100 of Rush

“Have you had a look at the auction items yet?”

I shake my head, having another sip of my drink.

“You want to look around with me?” he asks. “I can check out the bid lists while you browse the items.”

“Okay.” I smile. “But you have to promise one thing.”

He gives me a speculative look. “What’s that?”

“Keep my bid out of your story.”

He gives me a mock-affronted look, pressing his hand to his chest. “As if I’d put you in my story. We’re friends…right?”

“Right.” I smile at him before having another sip of my drink.

Leo has just wandered off to go chat with a friend he just spotted. I’ve put a bid in for my dad on a Yankees shirt signed by the whole team. My dad might be football for life, but he’s also a Yankees fan.

I’m leaning against the wall, people-watching, holding my half-drunk, now-warm glass of Coke.

I get my cell from my purse to check the scores again. It’s thirty-eight to seven. Only ten minutes left…meaning another victory.

Go, baby!

I slip my cell back in my purse, knowing how happy Ares is going to be with this win.

Then, I feel myself sway.

I press a hand to the wall, steadying myself. I lift my eyes out to the room, and my vision goes hazy.

I don’t feel right.

I hope I’m not coming down with something.

I move away from the wall and wobble unsteadily, making my way to the restroom.

The stalls are empty. I put my purse and glass down on the counter by the sink and feel my body sway again, my head feeling light. I grip the edge.

Something’s not right.

I stare down at my glass of Coke.

It doesn’t have alcohol in it…does it? Surely not.

Leo knows I can’t drink.

I pick the glass up with one hand, holding steady on the counter with the other. I hold the glass to my nose, sniffing the Coke.

No, definitely no alcohol in there. I’d know.

I put the glass down with a harsh clang, like I don’t have proper control over my hand. I stare at my hand, and there’s a tremor to it. I look up at myself in the mirror. My eyes are hazy, and my pupils are dilated, like I’m drunk.

God, no.

I turn on the faucet. Cupping my hands under the water, I lean forward to splash water on my face, but I stumble and bang my elbow on the sink.

“Fuck…” My word comes out slurred.

I sound drunk.