“I’m calling an Uber. Where are we going?”
“Home,” I whisper, my bottom lip trembling as I realise that she’s going to help me escape.
“Uh… here, put it in.” She passes me her phone, and with a trembling hand, I manage to get my address in so she can order a car.
“Was Alex really that bad a lay, huh? Did he even get you off, sweetie?”
“What? No. Yeah. Fuck,” I bark, dropping my head into my hands as a sob erupts.
“Here,” she says, and when I look over she’s got a pair of knickers in her hand. “They’re new, don’t worry. They’re my emergency pair.”
I stare at her in confusion but decide against asking the details right now.
“And this.” She hands me a face wipe the second I’ve pulled the knickers on. “Keep it together and own it. You fall apart when you get home and away from the waste of space who made the mistake of making you feel like shit.”
Finally, she hands me a pair of ballet shoes that are rolled up into a little ball.
“Who are you, Mary Poppins?” I ask through my smothered sobs.
“Nah, I’m just a girl with a few more years of experience with this shit than you. Best advice I can give you? Stay the hell away from any guy who makes you feel as wrecked as you do now.”
“It’s not that easy,” I whisper.
“I know. It never is.”
The lift dings, and thankfully, no one greets us on the other side and the Uber is already waiting for us by the entrance.
Bri holds the door open for me and shocks me by jumping in with me.
“Oh, you don’t need to—”
“Let’s go, man. We haven’t got all day,” Bri snaps at the driver before popping the top off her prosecco and handing it over.
I eye it suspiciously before she damn near thrusts it into my hands.
“Now, tell me how small Alex’s cock really is and I’ll laugh right along with you.”
I blow out a pained breath.
“It wasn’t Alex.”
I watch as she thinks about who else lives on the floor of that building and her eyes widen in shock.
“No,” she breathes.
A sad smile pulls at one side of my lips before I tip the bottle up and swallow down more mouthfuls of the bubbles than I really should.
But that’s the least of my issues.
Dance with the devil and you’re always going to get burned.
I guess the only question is, just how bad is it going to hurt?
I attempt to hold myself together the whole ride home with my arms wrapped around my waist, holding Daemon’s ruined shirt tightly around my body.
On the outside, it might look like I’m succeeding, but on the inside, I’m crumbling fast.
“W-what day is it?” I ask as the Uber takes the final turn toward my parents’ house.