Page 58 of Like A Moth To A Flame

Sighing, I looked over at the mug. It was steaming, swimming with perfectly beige coffee, with fresh, cold whipped cream piled on top. Someone had slit a strawberry and added it to the rim. I eyed it suspiciously, like an old farm dog eyed shadows in the fields at dusk.

“What’s up?” Amelia asked again, and I sighed, pulling out my phone.

“Nothing,” I said, but the tone of my voice was nothing but nonchalant. I was annoyed, and it showed.

I pulled up my texts and typed a quick message.

What did you do to my coffee?

I stared at the phone until I got a reply, and it took a while longer than I would have expected for him to send me a single winking emoji.

“Oh my god,” Amelia had come to stand beside me, and while she couldn’t see my phone, she could see the cup, and she was smart enough to put two and two together.

Are you trying to fucking drug me?

I’d never hurt you, Moth.

There was a long pause, but I could see by the dancing ellipsis that he wasn’t finished yet.

“Is that from…?” Amelia asked, pointing at the cup, but even as I slowly shook my head no, the message came through, and I knew that I was lying.

We both know that I’m going to end up inside you one way or another, so you might as well drink me with your coffee like a good little girl, or I’ll have to find another way.

That answered that question, and it was right there in plain black and white. He’d done something to it, but it wasn’t a drug.

Sighing, I dropped the phone onto the counter and picked up the mug.

I couldn’t make a big deal out of this, not after the conversation I had with Amelia in Mae’s parking lot. I couldn’t show weakness. I couldn’t let her see that something was wrong, or that I was scared.

I couldn’t let myself think of it too hard, so I brought it to my lips and took a quick drink. Amazingly, I didn’t taste anything. I snatched up my phone and hurried from the room.

But it’s still there, the voice in my head reminded me, and I shook it away.

Nope. Don’t think about that.

“Nessa!” Amelia groaned at me. She followed me into the living room, where I kicked off my shoes and flopped down on the couch.

I was oddly calm about this. Why was I so calm about this?

Maybe I’d just been through so much in my life that I couldn’t be shocked anymore.

Yeah, I’m sure that was it.

“What?” I asked, looking up at her as innocently as I could manage.

“Are you sure you should be drinking strange—”

“The neighbor came by and helped me out. She made it,” I lied.

I was lying for him?! Why was I lying for him?

“Oh,” Amelia said sheepishly, flopping down on the couch beside me. “Sorry.”

I took another drink, quickly swallowing it down before it could touch my tongue for a little too long.

Why was I doing this? Because he told me to?

I told myself that I didn’t have a choice, but was that just an excuse?

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