Page 48 of Pocketful of Shame

"By telling the world that I abducted Romi?"

"By telling the world that you ran away together because you're desperately in love and can't bear to be apart," he countered. "Ever read The Hunger Games? It worked for Katniss and Peeta."

"Are you…" I shook my head and gaped at him. "We're not a movie, Presley!"

"Ugh, I was referring to thebook, Holden."

"Whatever, you weirdo."

"Look, let's just go back inside and talk," he coaxed, placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me along. "I really think I'm onto something."

"I don’t care anymore, Quinton. I really don’t. I need food. That's all I want. I can't function until I eat," I mumbled, allowing him to usher me back to the room. "Bacon. Toast. Eggs –"

"Sausage?"

"Not nearly drunk enough, dude."

Chuckling, he unlocked the door and shoved me inside. "Romi?" he called out, closing and then locking the door behind him. "You still in the shower, girl? Because I've got a hungover jock that I need to hose down."

"You wish," I snorted.

He winked. "Every day."

"Wait –" I snapped my head up to glare at him. "You left her alone?"

"For like five minutes. Chill."

"We don’t leave her alone for any damn minutes," I whisper-hissed, anxiety gnawing at my gut, the memory of Romi flinging herself out of that treehouse the culprit. "We talked about this."

"Romi?" Presley called out, sounding worried now. "Are you okay?"

"Um, kinda," she called back from inside the bathroom and we both sagged in relief. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm actually sort of, uh, stuck."

"What do you mean you're stuck?" I demanded, feet moving for the bathroom before my brain had a chance to catch up with the rest of me. "Are you hurt?"

"Is that Sketch?" She sounded panicked. "Oh my god, Pres, don’t let him come in here!"

"Holdyour horses, lover boy." Stepping in front of me, he held his hands up and grinned. "I can take it from here."

Growling, I watched him disappear inside the bathroom.

"Oh wow, I've never seen a vagina in the flesh before. Gotta say, it's not nearly as traumatizing as I expected."

"Oh my god, Pres, I'm not a science project. Stop inspecting it." Romi laughed, and it was weird as fuck to hear her do that. I hadn't heard that sound in a very long time. "Just help me out – ah, see, I'm totally wedged in here."

"Nicerack, Romi," Pres said, grunting and panting. "Damn, girl, where've you been hiding these? Maybe it's my all-round appreciation for the natural nourishment they provide, but I gotta say, in another lifetime, I think I could have been a breast man –"

"What the hell? Stop looking at her, asshole," I snapped, storming into the bathroom, only to freeze on the spot when my eyes landed on the scene in front of me.

With a transparent shower curtain torn from its pegs and draped around her, Romi was sprawled sideways in the tub, with her injured leg dangling over the side of the tub and the other jammed solid beneath her.

Meanwhile, Presley was standing behind her in the tub with his jeans rolled up to the knees, soaked to the skin from the water still spraying down on them both, as he tried and failed to hoist her up.

"You know, I'm really not equipped for this," he declared, sounding breathless, as he failed once more to pull her out. "I think my brain serves as a far stronger weapon than my biceps."

"Clearly," I said calmly, though how, I'd never know considering my heart was gunning in my chest. "Get out of the way, you douche."

"Oh my god," Romi whimpered, dropping her head in her hands when I approached. "Let me die."

---