Page 166 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
For some reason, Maddy instills confidence, so I tell her about the sedatives. I tell her about Camila. The way the guard held me down. Everything comes pouring out until I suck in a sharp breath.
“Jesus. I heard Camila was a bitch, but that’s next level cuntery right there.”
I laugh a little. It’s either that or cry. “Level 30 cuntery.”
“Okay. Can you take your shirt off for me?”
She’s here to help. I don’t fight her. Maddy examines me with a careful touch and kind eyes, distracting me with ridiculous dating stories and other random things she thinks of. When her fingers find my cheek, I close my eyes.
“Have you heard of karma?”
“Of course,” I say as she spreads an ointment over the wounds.
“Given all that Camila has done, I think karma is about to rock the bitch.”
“One can dream.”
Maddy washes her hands and then comes back, sighing heavily. “I wish there was more I could do. You said your head feels a little fuzzy?”
I nod.
“That’ll fade over the next day or so.” She glances at my hair. “Do you want me to brush your hair?”
My hair is one of my biggest triggers, but I’m already tired again, and I know my hair is a mess. “Be gentle? No pulling.”
Understanding flashes across her face. “I have soft hands.” She grabs a small brush from her bag and pats the bed. I sit on the end of it, and she sits behind me.
I tense a little.
She gathers my hair and puts it all on my back. “You know Asher used to pick his nose and eat the boogers?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“He did. He so did.” Maddy laughs, brushing the very ends of my hair. The knots are small and she eases the brush through them.
“That’s disgusting.”
“And he’s your mate,” she says, sounding forlorn.
“He’s outgrown it at least.”
“Are you sure?” She works her way through my hair, but the conversation is distracting enough that I don’t freak out.
“God, I hope so. Maybe I should ask.”
She shushes me. “Don’t you dare. He’ll hate me.”
“So you guys have been friends for a long time?”
“Yup. So long that no matter how grown up he got, he’ll always be that booger-eating rascal down the street.”
I chuckle a little. “You’re really nice.”
She hums. “Only because I like you.”
“Are you hitting on me?” I ask, referencing the running joke between us.
“Maybe. What are you going to do about it?”
