“Why the fuck not?” There’s a bite to his tone, and I know this isn’t going to end well.
“Because, man. I’m not fucking interested. Why do you keep doing this? How many times are you going to make me reject you before you get it through your head?”
He scoffs, narrowing his eyes at me. “Is this because of your precious Anderson?”
“That’s definitely one reason.”
“Fucking pathetic,” he mumbles under his breath.
Sitting up, my elbows rest on my knees, hands clasped together. “What was that?”
His venomous eyes find mine, lip curled into a snare. “I fucking said it’s pathetic. He’ll never accept you for who you are, and you’ll never be able to be who he needs. You’re a junkie, Crew. A pathetic, fucking fiend.”
Fire courses through my blood, and the idea of reaching out and decking him sounds nice right now, but I refrain. “Oh, and you’re Mr. Right for me, is that it?”
“Maybe,” he spits out. “At least I fucking know who you are. I know what you’re about. Know what a fucking loose cannon you are. Can youreallysay the same about Anderson?”
“Anderson and I are none of your fucking business, Kalen. You’re my fucking drug dealer. Learn your fucking place.”
“We’ll see about that, Crew. We’ll see who’s there for you when it really matters.” He’s sitting back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, chin jutted out in defiance.
Rolling my eyes, my expression is as bored as ever. “The answer is no. Take the L and fucking move on. Have some fucking pride. We gonna do this shit, or no?”
“You know what? Nah.” He pulls out the bag of crystal white powder from his jean pocket, dumping some on the table in front of him. “I’mdoing this. You can sit this one out.”
“You’re a fucking child, bro. You realize that? You’re throwing a tantrum because I don’t want to hook up? We’ve kicked it so many fucking times without hooking up, and now it’s an issue?”
“You’re no fucking good for him, and he’ll never be enough for you. It’smewho gets you, bro. It’smethat accepts you.” He’s cutting up a line for himself, not looking at me, hardly paying attention.
“This is a dumb fucking argument, Kal, and you fucking know it.”
He ignores me, rolling up a bill, and leaning down to snort the line. The bill drops from his fingers onto the table as he leans back in the chair. Almost immediately, I know something is wrong. His body appears limp, like he’s melted into the chair.
“Hey, Kal. You alright, man?”
He mumbles something incoherent, but otherwise doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes. I stand in a slight panic, walking over to him and I shake his shoulder.
“Kalen. Hey, can you open your eyes for me?”
Shit.He’s not fucking responding.
Shaking him harder, I say louder, “Kalen, wake the fuck up!”
His eyes open briefly before rolling back and closing, pupils are pinpoint, and his breathing is shallow. Putting my fingers on his pulse point on his neck, my body runs cold at how slow his pulse is right now.
Fuck, fuck!
“Kalen… come on, Kalen. Get up, man.” Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I unlock it and dial 9-1-1.
The line connects quickly, a mousy woman answering. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Um, hi. Uh, fuck. I n-need help r-right away! I think my friend might be overdosing.” My voice is frantic, high-pitched. As I’m talking to this woman, his lips are turning a light shade of blue, and his chest is barely rising. His body is white as a sheet of ice, and when I bring my shaky fingers back to his neck to check his pulse, his skin is slick… clammy.
The woman on the line continues to ask me questions, but I’m not even sure what she’s asking or if I’m answering. My heart is beating so fucking fast, I can’t hear anything over the sound of it in my ears. My stomach rolls violently as I continue trying to wake him.
“Kal, man. Come on. Fuck, please wake up, bro.Wake the fuck up!” Fear is holding me by the throat, choking me, and refusing to let go.
Why isn’t he waking up?!