Page 109 of The Wicked
I shook my head. “I’m just gonna go to bed; I’m too tired for this shit.”
“Zahra—”
“Don’t follow me,” I told him before heading to my bedroom, knowing Milk and Dog would be fast asleep already; we were deep into the morning, and I knew I should probably question why Upper and Devil were still up together. I knew Devil would wait up, but like Dog, Upper liked his sleep, so it was weird.
The moment I fell on the bed, I groaned in tiredness, my grip still on Elio’s gun.
I shoved it under the pillow with a tired sigh and passed out after a few seconds.
“Make one for me?” I said to Upper as I yawned and stretched, entering the kitchen as he was making coffee. He nodded at my request without looking at me, his form tense.
I frowned, about to comment when Milk’s voice cut in.
“Morning, Zahra!” she yelled from the living room. “I stopped by your room early, and you were dead asleep, mouth open and all.”
“Creep,” I muttered.
She chuckled.
Now in a simple tank top and shorts, I sat atop one of the kitchen stools, placing my hand on my cheek as I watched Upper work on the coffee machine, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Second to Dog, Upper was the one I warmed up to after we first met. He was always smiling, observant, and loved talkingabout things he claimed to know nothing about. Upper wasn’t a mystery; he was an open book that held so many hidden secrets between the lines I would have loved to unearth.
When I’d asked him about his accent years ago, he’d told me it was learned, but I wasn’t stupid. If the others believed that shit, I didn’t. His accent had that unmistakable refinement of—I don’t know—British aristocracy? The kind drilled into people raised in royal circles. It was too natural… too second nature; coupled with his posh mannerisms, it made him seem dignified—like he wasn’t the same as everyone else.
He would often act a certain proper way, catch himself doing it, and adjust to being brash.
I never spoke on it or pointed it out; if the others caught it too, they said nothing.
We stayed away from broaching the “extra personal” in our lives. We kept our past to our past and functioned well with our present. There was a possibility we would perform better if we knew where we each came from, but none of us were willing or eager to let that information slip. But we still trusted each other, and it was healthy.
I worked my shoulders, trying to free my coiled muscles.
“I have a feeling you’re being hostile with me,” I said, watching his back tense up, but he continued what he was doing. “You know you can talk to me about anything if I did something wrong or said something that upset you.”
He let out a shaky breath, turning with a fresh cup of coffee for me. I collected it, watching him avoid eye contact.
“Upper—”
“It’s not you,” he said, his bright hazel eyes raising to look at me. “You didn’t do anything.”
“So why are you being weird?”
“I—”
“Baby Zahra.” Arms hugged me from behind as Dog slammed a kiss to my cheek. “I missed you!”
I tried to push him off. “Get off me, you clingy beast.”
He tightened his hold and whispered harshly in my ear. “Where are my fucking pills?”
“Hidden.”
“I can take that. My fucking pot is what I can’t take; I was going crazy last night, you motherfucker,” he gritted with a strained smile.
“I told you, you’re not getting high without me to monitor you,motherfucker,” I gritted with a strained smile too, and Upper eyed us warily.
“You could have at least left a joint,bitch.” His grip tightened.
