Page 23 of Code Word
I ran my fingertip across the black ink of the Atrous tattoo we all shared, expecting it to hurt when I touched it.
It didn’t.
It should have.
It should have seared me, as if I’d torn right through the skin. Something, anything to match the burn in my chest.
It was so fucking ridiculous.
It felt like heartbreak, and maybe in some weird way it was.
When relationships and marriages fall apart, there’s a litany ofsorry to hear thats and condolences and commiserations.
Sometimes even a congratulations.
But what about when friendships end?
What exactly is the protocol for when a best friend decides it’s over?
How does the one left behind deal with that?
What the fuck was I supposed to do with my life without my best friend?
I could barely remember a time in my life when Luke wasn’t with me. Certainly not in the last twelve years. He was never more than an arm’s length or a quick text away.
And now I was just expected to do what, exactly?
Be on my own?
Because I no longer had Luke. Maddox was clearly on Luke’s side, and Jeremy would side with Maddox always. Wes was busy with his new family, and...
And I was here, all alone in my too-big house that felt like a hotel more than my home, and there wasn’t one person outside of Atrous I could call.
I was alone.
Could I call Becca or my mom? Sure. But they weren’t who I wanted to speak to. They’d ask questions I didn’t know the answer to.
I could call up an LA A-list party and fill every inch of this house with people, music, and booze. But not one of those people gave an actual fuck about me; they’d come only for the hype, to be seen, to make a list onEntertainment Tonightof partygoers at Blake Acosta’s Malibu mansion, where they talked about how drunk Blake was without any of the Atrous boys around, and maybe Luke would see it on the TV and maybe he’d feel hurt for not being invited.
Fuck!
I rolled my eyes at myself.
I hated that fake Hollywood shit, and I hated myself for even thinking of doing that...
But getting drunk sure sounded like a really good idea.
And yep, we had that pact where we’d sworn we’d never drink alone. We’d never do shit to deal with the pressure, to escape...
Well, that was an Atrous promise, and Atrous was over—Luke and I were over, and Maddox took his side. The pain behind my ribs reminded me that Atrous was done with me.
I went to my bar, found myself an unopened bottle of expensive Icelandic vodka, and cracked the lid. Not even bothering with a glass or ice or a mixer, I put the bottle to my lips, and breaking the first Atrous promise we ever made together, I closed my eyes and drank.
SIX
I wokeup to the blinding sun trying to laser out my retinas, a brain-splitting headache, and an annoying ringing sound.
I groaned at the fucking sun, sitting up and reaching blindly for my phone, unable to find it. The ringing stopped, thank fuck. I sagged back, realizing far too late that I was still on the couch.
