Micah jolts like he’s been shot. I tilt my head lazily toward the noise. Adriana storms in, hair wild, eyeliner smudged, wearing one of her tiny crop tops and that pissed-off model strut. She spots me on the couch and stops short.
“What thefuck?”she snaps, looking agitated and upset.
Micah looks between us, completely lost. “Uh, hey. I don’t know where he—”
“Where the hell were you?” Adriana cuts in, ignoring him entirely. She stalks forward, eyes sharp and mean, like I’m a misbehaving dog. “I needed you.”
Micah stiffens, then lies before I can even breathe. “He didn’t say anything to me. I don’t know where he was.”
Good.
Protective in the only way he knows how.
Adriana scoffs like she sees straight through him. Her gaze drops to the coffee table. Her mouth twists when she sees the needle, the spoon, the black case lying open.
“Damn it,” she says flatly. Her eyes rake over my slack posture, my head tipped back, the heavy drag in my limbs. Then she smirks. “Great,” she mutters. “Guess your dick's useless now.”
Micah’s jaw drops. “What the hell—”
“Well?” Her voice is venomous. “You gonna look at me? Or are you just gonna lay there like a zombie?”
I lift my eyes to her, slow and unfocused.
She folds her arms. “I needed you tonight. I drove all the way here. Nolan, he…” She doesn’t finish, but we get it.
Micah mutters, “Jesus Christ…” and scrubs a hand down his face.
But I barely hear either of them. The warmth keeps pulling me under. It’s heavy, comforting, and irresistible. Emma’s porch light flickers behind my eyelids. Her soft, worried voice echoes faintly in my head. I shut my eyes again.
Adriana huffs and kicks the coffee table hard enough torattle it. Micah stands frozen, torn between yelling at her or sitting beside me. But I’m already drifting. Sinking...weightless. I don’t know what I hate more. The fact that this feels good, or the fact that I needed it this badly.
Either way, I’m gone.
Adriana’s voice cuts through the haze. “Micah. Leave.” She shrugs off her jacket, tossing it onto the armchair.
Micah holds his ground, brows pulled tight, eyes flicking between me and the syringe still on the table. “Adriana, he’s too high. He’s not—he physically can’t—”
“I can’t deal with life right now.” She spins on him, eyes narrowing. “Do you want to take his place then?” she snaps.
He freezes, his jaw clenching. “Fine.”
No. Not him.
I feel like I’m underwater watching all of it. My tongue is thick. Everything in me is warm and slow and syrupy. My limbs won’t move right. “No...no.” I let out a lazy breath, my voice slurred. “I—I’m right here. Useme. Do whatever you want.” I just need her to stop yelling. I need everything to stop.
I need to protect him.
Micah recoils. “Jesus, Jude,” he murmurs. His voice cracks in the middle.
Adriana lights up. A slow grin spreads across her mouth. Her green eyes are as sharp as a predator. She’s high, too, but not like me. No, her pupils aren’t just wide; they vibrate. Her jaw grinds. Meth.
Great.
It’s what we normally fuck on.
“Micah,” she snaps again. “Get out. Or watch.” She kicks off her boots, hands shaking just a little, and slides her pants down. Black underwear. Black everything. “I don’t care.”
My head sinks back into the cushion, eyelids dragging. The high keeps climbing, heat blooming up my spine, pooling in my chest, then my stomach. I’m floating. Detached…