Screw you, too, life. Bitch.
“Jethro!”
I realize I’ve stopped in front of a liquor store. Should I go in and buy something for later on? Get some buzz going. Unwind.
“Hey.” She’s breathless as she catches my arm again.
I pull free easily.
I wish the grip were stronger. That she’d stop me from going, not let me go. Need someone to hold me down, keep me still.
My feet won’t move anyway. I place a hand against the glass of the storefront, lean against it. My head is heavy so I press my forehead to the smooth, cold surface.
She stands beside me, looking into the store. I steal a glance at her. The little frown. The long lashes. The smooth cheeks and neck.
This isn’t her fault, but I’ve made her feel bad. No matter how much I wanted a minute to myself, she’s here, a warm presence beside me.
“Hey.” I nudge her, and she shoots me a surprised look. “Everything’s okay. You shouldn’t feel bad, Sugar Pop. If nothing else, you gave me a job. Wanting you is my problem, not yours.”
“It’s not…” She draws her lower, plump lip between her small teeth and damn, I’m getting hard already. “Not like that.”
I wait for her to elaborate, explain what she means, but she only shakes her head, her cheeks coloring again.
Cars pass behind us. Someone honks. A dog barks.
Her hand slips over my arm again, and this time I let it. Let its slight weight, let its warmth seep through the thin cotton of my shirt and settle into my skin.
“You’ll do fine at the bookstore,” she says. She leans into me, and a sigh escapes me. Her glasses hide her eyes, drawing all my attention to her soft mouth. “At the concert you said you lost your job. Like, suddenly.”
I give a non-committal grunt. I told her that? Damn.
“Can you talk about what happened?”
No. “I kinda… lost it.”
And I snap my mouth shut, tension rising up my back, curling around my spine.
“Lost it?” Her repeating that painful word should cut like a knife, but her voice is so soft. Like kitten fur.
Words start spilling from my mouth. “I worked at this bar. A guy got shitfaced and started shouting, then started smashing things and his fist into people, and I…”
Freaked out. Lost my shit. Lost my mind. Lost time.
Then I thought I saw someone in the crowd, someone who shouldn’t be alive, shouldn’t be here, and started throwing punches right and left, trying to get out.
“Shit, forget I said anything.” I start to pull away. What the fuck am I doing, telling her this? I didn’t even tell J, and he knows how fucked-up I am. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” she says, and I glance up at her. There’s a fire now in her eyes, and I can’t look away. “It does matter. Sounds like it wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have been fired.”
“Life sucks,” I inform her, just in case she doesn’t know. Why would a pretty, nice girl like her know, anyway? “Life isn’t fucking fair. That’s how it is.”
“You could sue the owner. You could—”
“No.” I take a step back and shake my head. “It’s fine.”
It’s humiliating enough as it is. Don’t need to rehash it in court. And I wouldn’t win.
Plus, Joel would find out about it. Bad enough that the moment I got a job at another bar, I got into a fight, and he had to come and drive me home because I caught a punch to the face and wasn’t so steady on my feet.