“So, what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that, for one, we’re best friends. Nothing good ever comes from mixing sex and friendship, and secondly, I’m still dating Calina.”
“Okay, one, says who? Friends hook up and date all the fucking time. Look at Branson and Luca. I know they’re like stepbrothers or whatever, but they were also friends before they fucked. And for problem number two… can you even say you’re completely happy with Calina? I have never seen you kiss her with the amount of heat you kissed him. I only saw the last like three seconds of the kiss and it was explosive.”
“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. “Our relationship has always been easy. Low maintenance. Before these feelings for Crew came into play, I wasn’t unhappy with her.”
“How’s the sex?” Normally, I would think he’s being a prick. It’s just who he is. But his tone is gentle, like he genuinely wants to know.
“It’s okay…”
“Just okay? How’s the sex with Crew?”
“Well, we haven’t technically had sex.”
“You know what I mean. How is it when you two hook up?”
I can’t even help the grin that tugs on my lips when I think back to last night. And the tent. “It was… Honestly? It’s never been like that before.”
“My two cents, which I know you didn’t necessarily ask for, but I’m giving it to you anyway… life is too damn short for mediocre, lackluster sex and relationships that lack passion. I’ve fucked my fair share of women and none of them holds a candle to the way your brother makes me feel… both in the sheets and out. I think if you were honestly happy with Calina, and fully satisfied, you wouldn’t have found comfort in Crew in the first place.”
“So what are you suggesting?” I know, but I want him to say it.
“Dump her ass, bro. Problem solved. Man, I should be a therapist. Solving everyone’s problems.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Ah. Saved by your brother coming back. For real though, dude. If you’re into him and he’s into you, you’ll make it work.”
Chapter Sixteen
Crew
My fucking stomach rolls with nausea. My skin is hot and clammy, and every single bone in body fuckingaches.I feel like I’ve been run over by a monster truck five times over. I’m rotting from the inside out.
I’m a goddamn wreck right now and all I can think about is getting high as quickly as possible. When Anderson came over—four fucking days ago—I took the last three pills I had. Didn’t think anything of it, figuring I’d just hit up Kalen the next day.
Except Kalen had gone on vacation.A fucking vacation.What kind of fucking drug dealer goes on an out-of-town vacation and doesn’t think to let his clients know?! Like, he couldn’t let a dude know thathey, maybe you’ll want to re-up before I head out of town for a fucking week.
The first day wasn’t terrible. It sucked, obviously, but it wasn’t unbearable. Day two came, though, and that’s when shit hit the fan. Every pore in my body was dripping sweat. My stomach was killing me, with cramps and rolling nausea. And my nose, fuck, my nose wouldn’t stop running. By day three, the cramps only got worse, the nausea was now accompanied by the shits, and cold sweats racked through my entire aching body.
It’s day fucking four of this withdrawal bullshit, and nothing seems to be subsiding. I’m cold, but I’m hot. My stomach fucking hurts. My limbs ache. Food isn’t an option. Even the thought of it makes me want to hurl. My heart is beating so fucking fast, I’m positive it’s going to bust out of my ribcage.
I’ve never wanted a high like I do right now. Never felt this desperate. Never had to go throughthisbefore, because asshole Kalen has never left me dry like this. I’m dying. Slowly, painfully dying. My blood is going to dry up to ash, my heart is going to thump so fast that it’ll finally just give out. I’ll be fucking dead. Done. Gone. No more.
If I don’t get something in my system soon, dying sounds better than going on like this. This is surely a way to kill someone.
Kalen said he’d be here in about an hour… and that was forty-five minutes ago.Fuck!I can’t fucking wait. Wonder if my parents have anything. Shit, why didn’t I think of this sooner? Storming out of my room in a hurry, I head down the hall toward their room. They’re not here—surprise, fucking surprise—so fuck it.
Stepping into their en-suite, I yank open the first cabinet, rummaging through all the shit in there.
Nothing.
Fuck.
Moving onto the next cabinet, doing the same.
Fucking nothing.