Page 25 of The Love of My Next Life
I gasp, my first thought is why on earth would he have cocaine. My second is how the heck could he afford it. She nods in agreement at my distress.
“I’m pretty sure he’s also taking pills, but I don’t know what.” She shakes her head. “He’s not even discreet about it. I’ve seen him straight up pull a loose pill out of his pocket and take it dry. Told me it was ibuprofen, like he thinks I’m an idiot.”
I chew on my cheek and then clamp my eyes shut at the onslaught of thoughts.
“Why is he doing it?” I ask. “He’s gotta know the risks.”
Claire shrugs like she doesn’t really care. “He was born fucked up, Len. Always has been. Like he’s got a death wish and doesn’t care who he brings down with him.”
I stare at her profile. “Could you put him into rehab?”
She scoffs. “And who would pay for it? In case you haven’t noticed, Lennon, we’re not exactly swimming in money like you.”
My jaw drops at the vitriol in her tone, and I don’t even know what to say. We’re notswimming in money. Not at all, but there isn’t space for me to talk or correct her because she just trudges forward.
“Besides, you can’t force someone to clean up. If they don’t want to do it on their own, it won’t work.”
“Do you think he’s depressed? Suicidal?”
She sighs, not saying anything else, but the complete and utter apathy she’s displaying makes me physically ill, and I suddenly have the urge to hug Macon.
I stay quiet until we get to the school, then do a quick scan of the senior lot when we park, my eyes stopping and sticking when they land on Macon’s group of friends. Casper and Julian are standing with their backs to me, but Macon’s tall form is leaning on the trunk of his 1981 Dodge Charger, giving me full view of his wrinkled black tee and holey black jeans. When he first got the car, I thought it was hideous. The black paint was faded in places and the wheel wells were speckled with rust, but Macon was obsessed with it. I have to admit, it looks a heck of a lot better now than it did two years ago.
I watch Macon interact with his friends, looking for I don’t even know what, but he laughs and jokes like usual, his crooked smile showing just a tiny peek of white teeth. When Sam sidles up next to him and throws her arms around his waist, my mouth twitches with the need to turn down. She flicks her eyes to me, then whispers something in Macon’s ear. His brow furrows slightly, then slowly his full lips spread into a wide grin. His eyes drag up and meet mine, and for the briefest of moments, my breath catches in my throat. Then he says something to Sam, and she cackles in response. Claire’s windows are up, and the radio is still on, but I swear I can hear the grating sound of her laugh.
Once again, I’m the subject of one of their lame jokes. Any thought I had that Macon might be offering an olive branch turns to ash.
“God, I hate that girl,” Claire says, making me jump slightly. I turn toward the driver’s seat and see that she’s watching the same thing I am.
“I’m pretty sure she’s the one giving Macon all that shit. Thinking she can drug him up enough to love her or something.” Claire sneers, then looks away, turning off the engine. “She’ll be his dealer forever. Macon doesn’t have a heart.”
At lunch,Josh and Eric surprise us by dropping their trays onto the table next to Claire and me. Josh throws his arm over Claire’s shoulder, and I have to stifle a laugh at the excited way her eyes flare. She’s trying so hard not to giggle, and it’s adorable.
“Ladies,” Josh says, flashing his Golden Boy grin at me before focusing all his attention on Claire. Eric sends me a small smile and mouths, “hi.” I mouth, “hi” back and then look down at my plate to hide the too-wide smile threatening to break.
“Hey, guys!” For as nervous as she is, Claire’s voice is smooth as silk. If you didn’t know her, you’d never be able to tell her heart is beating in overdrive. “How was your weekend?”
“Mine was great,” Eric pipes up, sending me another smile, but this one is more suggestive, and it makes my cheeks heat.
“Mine, too,” Josh says. “I know yours was good.”
Claire laughs, gearing up to flirt, and I tune it out.I know yours was goodtells me all I need to know about the direction of their conversation.
“Are you thinking of coming to our game Friday?” Eric asks me as our friends talk. He darts his eyes from my face to his plate and back. He’s nervous, and that’s flattering. It eases the tension in my shoulders a bit.
“I am,” I say softly. “The first home game of the year? I’ll be there with my school spirit bells on.”
He grins and holds my gaze, making the tips of my ears and the back of my neck prickle with nerves. Having his undivided attention is exciting, but unsettling. I hold my breath.
“Would you want to wear my away jersey?” he asks, and my jaw drops.
Me. Wear the star running back’s jersey? To a home game?
“You don’t have to,” he backpedals, misreading my shock for disinterest. “I just thought I’d ask. It’s cool.”
“No, no,” I stutter out. “It’s not... I’m not...” I close my eyes and take a breath, then start over. “I would love to wear your jersey. Thank you.”
When I open my eyes again, his smile is stretched over his face and it’s contagious. I laugh once, then again, and he bites his lower lip.
