Page 79 of Broken by my Bully
My lips purse as I glance up at her. “Um…okay. If you still want me to.”
“Yeah.” She frowns a little like she’s reached a unanimous decision. “This could just be the tequila, but you’re not half bad.”
I laugh. “I’d suggest you do a sanity check in the morning. Make sure it’s not the trauma bonding talking.”
“I mean it. You’re…different.”
“Because I don’t make small talk about designer shoes and spending summers in the Hamptons?” I mutter, tensing. If she’s just setting me up for another round of Cruel Consequences, then I’m not falling for it.
“And thank fuck for that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t care if you know what fork to use.”
I shrug. “I prefer eating with my hands.”
She quirks an eyebrow at me like she’s not sure if I’m making a joke.
I sigh, reluctantly letting up. Guess not everyone’s out to get me all the fucking time, right?
“What I do know,” I say, raising a finger, “is which stores check for ID.”
Only because Dad or Uncle Lenny would send me to the store to buy them booze when they were too trashed to do it themselves, but Melissa doesn’t have to know that.
No one does. Ever.
Melissa nods enthusiastically. “See? Perfect is boring. I’ve had boring all my life. You’rereal, Haven.” She shrugs, curling her fingers to check her nails. “Plus, you have that whole ‘save me’ vibe. Guaranteed drama. I fuckinglovedrama.”
I blink at her. “Fuck you.”
She throws her head back and cackles.
Haven
My phone vibrates against my hip, dragging me awake from a tequila-induced coma. Seconds later, a pillow hits my head.
“Fuck!” I shove into a sit, arms up in case more feather-stuffed missiles are headed in my direction. “Why?”
“It’s been going the whole fucking night,” Melissa groans. “Turn it off.”
There’s drool on the side of my cheek.
Didallmy saliva migrate? Would explain why my mouth is so dry.
“Fuck me. I’m already hungover,” she mumbles, her bedsheets rustling as she turns over.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and unlock it, staring blearily at the screen until my eyes decide to focus.
Missed calls?
No one even has this number.
My bladder sends a frantic SOS to my brain. Fuck, I need to pee. I turn toward Melissa to ask her where the bathroom is, but on cue, she begins snoring.
Can’t be that difficult to find, right?
I try to untangle myself from the blanket around my legs, and end up rolling off Melissa’s sofa and onto the floor, still wrapped up like a burrito.
“Ow.”
Thankfully, I don’t wake her or her roommate, name unknown.
