Page 95 of Ecstasy
“I passed out in my chem lab.” She gestures vaguely with her hand, half-laughing, half-wincing. “Right on the floor.”
My mouth drops open again.
“Turns out, my blood sugar was low because I hadn’t eaten anything in like, three days. I was too busy.”
I bite my tongue, cocking my head and honestly intrigued. Little Kylie Jones. I had no fucking idea.
“Moral of the story, Zara? Everyone’s a little weird.” She picks up her fork again, but this time she just stabs her porkchop, smiling a little as she does.
Impressive.
“You just have to own it.”
I read something like that in a dark romance book once back when I used to read fiction, about owning things before they own you.Corruptby Penelope Douglas. It was a good fucking book, but I’ve never been good at owning shit.
Especially when it comes to my own corrupted soul.
I’d rather hide.
Still, I’m happy Kylie opened up to me. I’m not so sure I feel the same about reciprocating, because I bullshitted my way through that, and I’m not so sure we’re friends at all considering, according to Eli, she’s hiding a big fucking secret, but still.
This means something to me, whether it should or not.
“Thanks, Kylie,” I tell her, and I do mean it. “And thanks for dinner, too. It was great.”
She stares at me like I’m stupid. “It was packaged pork chops and peas in a can, Zara.” She rolls her eyes, stabbing her porkchop again. “Don’t thank people for things they don’t deserve thanks for.”
Yeah. One day, when I’m sober, I’ll be sure to berealfriends with my roommate.
One day.
30
Eli
Friday evening,before we’re all leaving to head to the coast for the beach party, Alex is chugging back a protein shake. Tonight is the last game he has to sit out and I know he’s itching to get back on the field.
I know, because his temper has been worse than usual lately. There was the shattered bottles last weekend. The hole in the wall on the staircase when he got back home because of Grove Beach news covering his Dad’s affair. The raging death metal coming from his room.
I’ve avoided this place most of the week, even though it’smyhouse.
I’ve spent a lot of nights driving, windows down, my own music up. Driving and forgetting. Or trying to.
I didn’t go to that appointment.
I don’t need to see the psychiatrist anymore.
At night, when it’s quiet, when Alex has finally worn himself out, I stay up until I just can’t anymore, scrolling through all the cars for sale in this area. In the mountains, too. I wouldn’t mind moving there after graduation. Opening up a shop.
“You coming?” Alex asks me, rinsing his protein shaker off in the sink as I fill a glass up with water from the fridge.
“Yeah.” I flip the tab on the water dispenser, shut the fridge door and lean back against it. Alex shakes out his blender, sets it on the dish rack to dry. Then he turns to face me, hands on the counter behind him.
“I’m bringing Zara.”
I assumed he would, but I just take another drink of water, glance beyond him, at the darkness outside, broken up only by the underwater lights of the pool. “You two back together?” I don’t look at him while I ask it.
He clears his throat. “Not quite.”
