Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
But right then, all he cared about was forgetting.
He needed to be numb, damn it. How could he survive all these fucking feelings? His stomach clenched as he remembered the sweet taste of Fitch’s lips. And right after, the sting of his mother’s hatred, the memory of lying in the hospital too scared to confess the abuse.
The shame. Always, always so much fucking shame. He closed his eyes and forced it all away. He was older now. Stronger. He’d been through the muck and come out fresh and shiny. Fuck ‘em. Fuck ’em all.
He grabbed the case just as the door to the dressing room creaked open behind him.
“What the hell?” Lirim cursed, his normally soft voice turned angry.
Ansel spun, caught still clutching hard plastic in his fist. “Sorry, I just...”
Lirim shoved him away and started restoring his belongings when Tam came into the room.
“What’s going on?”
“That bitch has no fucking boundaries, that’s what’s going on.” Lirim refocused on Ansel. “Christ, Ansel. Are you drunk already? You’re lucky I don’t strangle you.”
Ansel leaned against the wall, letting the brick cool his heated skin. “I know, sorry. You’re always carrying. I just wanted a little hit to calm my nerves. Tell me you’ve got something. I’m going crazy.”
Lirim pinned him with an odd look, his brows pinched together, his soft blue eyes going hard and calculating. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Why? What happened? Did that prick Castor proposition you again?”
“What? No. No. Nothing happened. I just need to take the edge off.” He pushed away from the wall, walked over to the emergency exit and propped open the heavy door. He sucked in a deep breath of the cool evening air.
Tam came to his side and draped an arm over his shoulders. “If something is eating at you, you should let it out. It’s unhealthy to keep your problems bottled up.”
He squinted at his friend. “Yeah? Did your therapist teach you that? I don’t see you spilling your guts, hon. So, no offense, but fuck off.”
At Tam’s shuttered expression, Ansel accepted a second dose of guilt. Yeah, he was an asshole. He’d totally deserve it if they left his sorry ass to rot.
Lirim walked over and pressed a rolled joint into his palm. “Next time, just fucking ask.”
Ansel blinked, then met his friends’ understanding eyes. He curled his fingers around the gift. “Sorry.”
“Fix yourself up, get over whatever it is, and get back to work. Life is tough, but so are you, right?”
He nodded and swallowed his emotions. Yes, he was tougher than this—harder, steadier. He’d had to be. He’d spent the past six years learning how to survive on his own. And this situation didn’t even make it to the top fifty on his list of shit he’d had to wade through. A little fucking kiss was nothing compared to assault, abandonment, or near starvation.
Lirim helped him light the joint and he breathed the drug into his lungs. God, what was he getting so worked up about?
He rolled his eyes at himself. Idiot.
Still, it took the whole joint before he felt brave enough to face the crowd again.
Chapter Five
“Okay, Meg, time to go.” Fitch slipped an arm around his sister’s waist and propped her up with his hip.
“No. We still have time to dance,” she said. Or at least that’s how his brain translated her slurred words. What it really sounded like was Nustimdants, accompanied by a little wiggle.
“They announced last call, you lush. They’ll be closing soon anyway. And you have class tomorrow.” At this, he chuckled. Yeah, class. If only he could be there in the morning when she woke up with the inevitable hangover.
Again Meg whined, but this time she tried to walk with him toward the exit. It was more like he was dragging a life-sized sack of potatoes out of the club because she could barely support her own weight. Thank God her friends weren’t as wasted. There was no way he’d be able to manhandle five girls out the door.
Tara walked beside them and smoothed a hand down Meg’s hair. “Don’t worry, the party isn’t over yet. The sooner we get back to the dorm, the sooner I can give you your present.”
“Gross.”
Meg laughed and hit him in the ribs.
“How do you think I felt every time Debby Singe used to come over to hang out and you two ended up making out in the rec room,” Meg mumbled and only years of translating Meg-speak allowed him to understand her.
“Debby Singe? You were only seven when I was dating her. How do you even remember that?”
With a wild, floppy hand Meg tapped the side of her head. “Brilliant. Remember?”
He gave a nod. “Yeah, you’re a genius who’s going to be puking her guts out in about thirty minutes.”
Meg’s face scrunched and she shook her head a little too hard. “Ouch.”