Page 71 of Did They Break You

I take a step toward the bench, intending to grab my phone, but he beats me to it, reaching over the seat, snatching up my bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

I ball my hands into fists. “No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Give me my bag, Cort.”

He adjusts it on his shoulder, clenching his fingers around the black strap. “Nah, come on.” He jerks his chin, like he actually thinks I’m going to listen to him.

I walk around the bench but keep my distance as I dart a glance at my bag. “Give it back to me.”

He smiles, his teeth flashing. I notice the slight imperfections and the familiar sight is, for one single second, oddly comforting.

Why are you thinking about his teeth, Remi?

“Things will be so much easier for you if you just listen to me.” He says the words softly enough but then his eyes flick to my arm, hidden by my hoodie.

I jam my hands into my pocket.

“You been staying away from that?” he asks quietly.

My pulse pounds in my head. “For once, don’t be a psychopath,” I say. “Give me my stuff, and leave.”

For a moment, neither of us speak.

A cool, late summer breeze flutters through the graveyard and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I wish I’d taken a shot with Van.

He’d had some vodka in a Diet Coke bottle.

I passed, thinking about last weekend.

I shouldn’t have.I should’ve asked to keep it when he left.

I realize Cortland has closed the space between us a second too late. Just as I go to step back, he grabs my arm, keeping me still. “You’re not doing that anymore, that right, Remi?” he asks quietly, leaning in close. “Hurting yourself?”

I can smell his sweat, and beneath that, his cedar scent.

I close my eyes, my head close to his chest, the way he has me yanked toward him. “Give me my?—”

“All you have to say is,that’s right, Cortland.”His hand tightens on my arm.

Warmth flushes through my cheeks.

“And you’ll give me my bag?” I ask, eyes still closed.

He glides his palm up my arm, then my shoulder, until his fingers curl around my neck as he pulls me even closer. “Yeah, baby.”

I swallow with those words, the softness in them. But I think of waking up in his room and I feel sick.

I just want to get out of here. Safe.

Reluctantly, I do what he asked.“That’s right, Cortland.”As I say the words, my body feels warm all over.

He pulls away from me, not moving his hand from the back of my neck. I open my eyes and look up into his, staring down at me.

“Have you been smoking pot?” he asks me, arching a brow.

I look at my backpack still on his shoulder. “You said you would?—”

“That was before I knew you were being stupid, Remi. Getting high in a cemetery, alone, what the hell is?—”

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