Page 37 of Lucas

So I jump on his back and try and pull him off. Now the crowd is cheering even louder, people are laughing.

But nobody’s trying to help me stop this, they’re just watching like it’s a movie. “Help!” I scream.

“All right, all right, break this shit up now!”

I look up and into the weathered face of a New York City cop. “Are you hurt, Miss?”

Yes.

More police are filtering through the crowd now.

Thank God, I think.

My body aches, but I think I’m more in shock than anything else. I shake my head, thinking he’ll move on to someone else.

Instead, the officer holds out his hand and roughly yanks me to a standing position. He wrenches my arm behind my back and slaps on a handcuff. I’m mid protest when he grabs my other hand and locks it up as well.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shriek.

His nostrils flare, and I realize in this moment I’ve never disliked anyone any more in my life. “Until we sort out what happened here,” he says. “You’re all coming with us.”

I wriggle in protest, but it’s no use. I’m clearly heading to the police station—thankfully not alone. I glance over my shoulder and watch as Lucas is put in cuffs too, his head bowed, shoulders tense with anger.

Fuck me.

In all my imaginations, this is not at all how I thought this night would turn out.

Chapter 18

If this is an episode of Orange is the New Black, I’m that naïve blonde girl, trying not to get beat up. I’ve never so much as had a speeding ticket, and now I’m in a cell—a real fucking cell—with three women who’ve obviously seen the inside of a jail before, and I’m sure they’re mocking me. Laughing at my tears, giggling about how I begged to go home. They’re probably drawing straws to see who gets to torment me first.

Cool it, Eden.

This is so not the place for my imagination to spiral out of control.

A tall Amazonian woman flashes me a grin. “What happened to you, princess snowflake? Looks like someone roughed you up good.”

I glance down at my torn blouse and crimson-stained skirt. Another outfit ruined, thanks to Lucas and his fucking temper. Just great. My blood boils with fresh anger.

Another of my cellmates chucks her double chin. “If some dude did that to you, I hope you cut his balls off. I’d be happy to help out with that. Revenge is something I excel at.”

“Thanks,” I kind-of half whisper, wondering briefly what act of vengeance landed her behind bars tonight.

My mind drifts back to my problem. I’m too wound up to humor their speculations and assumption anyways. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to get out of this mess. And holy crap, is it ever a damn mess.

I haven’t used my one phone call yet, but that’s only because I’m still considering my options. Liz is out, and because Marnie can’t keep a secret, she’s out too. I’ve alienated most of my grad school friends, none of my family lives in the area, and the stragglers left—the kind-hearted souls who might take pity on me—definitely don’t have the cash to bail me out.

For the millionth time since I lost them, the hole my parents left when they died threatens to drag me down into a dark spiral of despair and hopelessness. If only I could call Mom or Dad…

If only.

But I came to terms with the reality of their passing long ago, and I push away the pain and sadness as quickly as I can.

Just as I’m getting ready to sit down on the dirty floor and get ready to try and nap sitting up, someone comes to the bars and yells my name.

“Miss Bradley?” The cell clanks open and a burly officer stands with his hands on the bars, his face pinched with resigned impatience. “Come with me.”

My heart leaps with relief.