Page 31 of The Slug Crystal
I groan and drink. Jake hesitates, then drinks too. Ben slams his palm on the table. “Knew it. Degenerates, both of you.”
The rounds blur together.Never have I ever stolen something. Never have I ever cried at a Pixar movie. Never have I ever kissed someone in this room—That one makes Jake choke on his shot from the question prior, coughing until he’s pink in the face, while Ben nearly falls over laughing.
By the seventh round, we’re sprawled against the couch cushions, faces hot, voices too loud for the quiet room. Even Jake is loose, his usual more reserved edges.
Ben sets his cup down with mock solemnity. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, wobbling as he tries to stand, “our night is incomplete. We have, mere steps away, the single greatest luxury this town has ever produced.”
Jake groans. “What now?”
“The hot tub,” Ben declares, jabbing a finger toward the backyard. “And it is our civic duty to soak.”
“It’s pouring,” Jake points out.
“Exactly,” Ben says, pulling his pants down his legs with a flourish. He stands there in boxer briefs, while my brain tries to process his words. “Hot water, cold rain. Very therapeutic. Very… Roman bathhouse.”
I shake my head, grinning in spite of myself. “This is how people die.”
“This is how peoplelive,” Ben corrects, already pulling the door open.
Jake sighs, mutters something about regretting this in the morning, then he turns to me. He places his hands heavily on my shoulders, leaning in closer to my face to speak to me. “Em, I’m going to take a shower and stay in the room with Alex. He can’t be out in the rain, and I feel like he shouldn’t be left alone either… just don’t do anything stupid. Okay?
I nod, then look at my luggage. “I don’t have a swimsuit, though.”
Jake sighs. “I know, just wear your underwear, no one else will be out there in the rain.”
I follow behind Ben with one last glance at Jake. I laugh as the cold air hits my skin the second I’m outside the motel room, the tequila warming my veins despite the chill. Ben is waiting for me, glancing back at the room with a raised eyebrow.
“Jake is staying with Alex,” I explain.
Ben nods. “Good man.”
We stumble out together, barefoot, the pavement slick under our feet. The pool area is deserted, echoing and humid, with a hot tub glowing the color of Mountain Dew with steam rising off the top of the water. I stop by a nearby chair, tug my shirt over my head, and roll my shorts down my legs, stacking the sodden pieces of fabric on top of one another. My hair is sticking to the skin of my back, so I gather it into a low ponytail, then start towards the water.
Ben grins hopping straight in. He splashes like a kid, then, “Don’t be a coward, Emma. Chlorine kills everything.”
“That statement feels highly inaccurate,” I slur.
“Whatever doesn’t kill us gives us the best story,” Ben says, and for once, I can’t argue.
I ease myself into the hot tub, the heat stinging all the way up my legs. Ben slides closer, handing me the bottle of tequila with a wink. “For courage. Or at least, for amnesia.”
I take another swig, ignoring the way it no longer burns as it slides down my throat, and settle in. The water’s probably fifty percent chlorine based on the smell, but goddamn if it doesn’t feel incredible on my sore muscles and bruised heart.
“So,” Ben says, voice low and almost casual, though I canhear the edge under it. “Why’d you do it, Em? Why turn Alex into a snail in the first place?”
The question lands heavier than the tequila. I stare into the water, watching the surface shiver with rain.
“I don’t know,” I lie at first. Then I sigh, the words dragging themselves out. “I was… heartbroken. I think I just wanted to make him hurt for how he made me feel.”
Ben doesn’t say anything, so I keep going, the words tumbling faster than I mean them to.
“With Alex, it always felt like—like I was a placeholder. A girlfriend of convenience. He liked having me around, but he never really cared. Not enough to notice if I was upset, not enough to… ask. The only way we got along was if I swallowed everything that bothered me and pretended it didn’t exist. That was the deal.”
My throat tightens. I take another swig straight from the bottle just to loosen it again. The tequila slides down easy now, too easy. “I guess I thought,” I say, laughing without humor, “if he was a snail, he couldn’t ignore me anymore. He’d have to need me. And maybe I’d finally matter.”
The hot tub bubbles fill the silence. Ben tilts his head, studying me with an expression I can’t read. Not quite pity. Not quite judgment. “You know,” he says finally, softer this time, “that’s fucked up.”
“Yeah.” I drag wet hair back from my face, water trickling down my neck. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
