He shuts his phone off and faces me. “You okay?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Were you throwing up?”
Shit.He’s been awakethatlong? “Yeah, but I’m fine.”
“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” The genuine concern in his voice twists the knife in my heart.
“Let’s just go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”
I feel him sit up behind me, but I don’t look. “No. Something is bothering you. I want to talk about it now. Why won’t you talk to me?”
“Because now isn’t the time, okay? Just go to bed, Crew. We’ll do this tomorrow.”
“Anderson.” My name sounds like a plea and a demand all at once as it rolls off his tongue. If I had to guess, he knows—at least on some level—what’s bothering me. I can hear it in the slight panic in his voice.
The pressure continues to build behind my eyes, and I have to close them to keep tears from falling. I don’t say anything, because my voice would crack, and I can’t handle that.
His warm hand comes up, rubbing my shoulder gently. “Anderson,please.”
“How long have you been doing drugs?” The question is asked barely above a whisper. His hand halts movement on my shoulder and his breath hitches. My body is still facing away from him. I can’t look at him and have this conversation.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, how long have you been doing drugs behind my back and lying to my face?”
“Where is this coming from?” I don’t miss the shake in his voice, despite his attempt to hide it.
Flipping over and sitting up, I narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you deflecting, Crew? Answer the fucking question. You wanted to have this conversation so bad, answer the question.” A sour taste fills the back of my throat as I swallow against shards of glass. The shock and disbelief from a minute ago are morphing into somethingmore. My jaw is clenched so tight, and I can feel the vein in my neck pulsing rapidly.
He scoffs, avoiding my eyes. “You have no idea what you’re fucking talking about, Anderson. I’m not doing anything, and it’s kind of fucked up that you think I am.”
A dry, humorless laugh leaves me, the noise sounding foreign. “Crew, quit fucking lying. I saw your shit.”
“What the fuck do you mean, you saw my shit?”
“You’re fucking backpack, Crew. All the shit in that front pouch. The pills. The powder. The cigarettes… which also didn’t know you didthateither, but I apparently don’t know you as well as I thought.”
“You went through my fucking stuff?” he bites out through gritted teeth. Everything about his posture is closed off. His spine is rigid, arms and legs are crossed, and he’s as close to the other side of the bed as possible.
“That’swhat you’re clinging to? That I went through your stuff? What about the fucking drugs, Crew?!”
“What about them?”
“Uh. How about why you have them? Or how long have you been doing them?”
He rolls his fucking eyes and scoffs at me, like I’m ridiculous for asking such questions. “It’s not a big fucking deal, Anderson. Chill out.”
“Crew, you fuckingoverdosedlast year. As in, you almost fuckingdied,and you have the gall to tell me it’s not a big deal?!”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Iactuallycan’t believe it. My body is trembling with nerves, and I can’t get it to stop.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now. Just go back to bed.” He lies down, facing away from me and pulling the blanket up to his chin. I can’t believe he’s dismissing me right now. Acting like this isn’t a big deal.
“What? No! We need to talk about this, Crew. We’regoingto fucking talk about it.”
“No, we fucking aren’t, Anderson.Drop. It.”