Page 20 of Make Me Bleed
“Jesus Christ. Give me that. You’re going to lose them.”
Gabe yanks the keycards out of my hands, waves them in front of the door to open them, and then walks inside, nearly leaving me locked out when the door swings shut behind him. I follow behind with an indignant, “Hey!” which he doesn’t seem to give a shit about.
He drops his bag on the bed closest to the door and sits on it with a loud sigh, flopping back. His maroon suit is perfectly tailored to fit him, clinging to every limb exactly as it should. Mine, on the other hand, is slightly too big when it used to fit much of the same way. It’s probably the lack of proper food and working out. I do what I’m supposed to in terms of weightlifting and cardio for basketball, but that’s as far as I go these days.
I can’t be fucked to do any more. Not when other things are much more important.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask absentmindedly as I drop down onto my own bed, letting my stuff fall from my arm to the floor with a loud clank. I’m sure Gabe can hear the bottle in my bag, but I don’t care.
“That’s what I’ve been wondering myself, Peris.”
“Fair enough,” I mutter, staring up at the ceiling. A stifling silence descends upon us. The kind I’m not used to feeling with Gabe. It’s tense with something unnamed—something poignant that neither of us care to bring attention to at the moment.
“You think you can play in a little bit?” he asks after a while. I’m not sure how much time has passed. It’s all a low-lying buzz in my ears and in my head.
“Yes.” It might be a lie, but it also might not be. We’ll find out.
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question.
“I believe you have a drinking problem.”
“I could stop at any point,” I argue indignantly. “I just don’t want to. I haveno reason to.” I mutter the last part without really meaning to, but it’s out there now.
“No reason?” he asks softly, sitting up. I can feel his eyes roaming over me, taking me in, and it makes my skin crawl like a million tiny bugs are all over me.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“If you don’t?—”
“Yeah, I know, Mr. Fucking Therapist.”
“Peris.”
“I’m going to take a shower.” And with that, I stomp into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, chest heaving with the force of his words sitting like a ton of bricks on my chest.
Because, of course, there are reasons I should stop. There always are. I just can’t care enough, and I don’t fucking know why. Something inside me is broken, and I don’t know how to fix it.
I don’t think I care enough to fix it.
I’m not sure how long I stand under the spray, but it’s long enough for Gabe to knock on the door and tell me we have to leave soon. I turn off the water and dry off, redressing in my lackluster suit, and yank open the door with a bitterness I don’t really feel.
I’m just tired.
“You look even worse, if that’s possible,” Gabriel says conversationally, and I snort.
“Awesome. Thanks for that, buddy. Fuck you,” I grit out as I shoulder check him. That’s when I notice we’re not alone.
“I’m just saying,” he starts, but his voice is drowned out because Jordan fucking Bates is sitting on my bed, and I see red.
CHAPTER 6
ABEL
“Sorry, Margaret, give me just a second.”I give her a smile as I walk away from the counter to take the call coming from Harvey—another one of my clients.
I step out into the blistering wind and wrap my arms around myself to help ward off the chill as I swipe to answer and press my phone against my cheek. “Hello?”
