Page 6 of Pocketful of Shame

"Blaire," I snapped.

"Fine. Did you fuckBlaire?"

"Did you fuck Chris?"

"Nah, he was too busy fucking Romi."

"Seriously, get the hell out of my truck."

He threw his head back and laughed. "This is nice."

"What exactly?"

"Ah, you know, finding humor in the face of our imminent demise."

"Jesus, you're something else."

"I don’t think they fucked," he said then, drumming his hands on the dashboard.

"Who?"

"Chris and Romi."

I flinched. "Just shut the hell up, Pres."

"I'm serious," he urged. "I don’t think it happened."

"I don’t care," I bit out, jaw clenched. "I don’t wanna talk about their sex-life."

"Or lack of," he mumbled.

"Whether they did or didn’t is of no concern to me."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure..."

"I'm serious," I growled. "I'm not gonna talk about this."

He winced. "Because it still hurts?"

Yes."Because it ain't my business."

"Why can't you just admit that you still love her and be done with it?"

"Because I don’t."

"Yeah, you fucking do, Sketch. It's so damn obvious."

"I've already told you that it's done with."

"Turn left up here."

"What?"

"Take the next left, dude. The motel's on the left."

"Oh shit." Grabbing the wheel, I swerved into the inside lane and flicked on my blinker.

"If it'sdone withthen why are you here?" He eyed me curiously. "Skipping school and guaranteeing your ass a spot on the bench from your coach, not to mention an ass-kicking from yourlovingfather when he and Cal catch up with you. Why are you in so much pain right now, Sketch? Why do you think you came running the moment you realized she was in trouble?"

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