Micah huffs a laugh. “Dude, this is insane.”
“I know,” I mutter.
“And Adriana?” he presses.
“I’ll tell her to fuck off,” I say plainly.
Micah whistles low. “Bold strategy.”
“Don’t care.”
My phone buzzes in the console. Micah grabs it, checks the screen. “It’s Nolan.”
“Of course it is.” I grit my teeth. “What’s he want?”
Micah reads the text aloud. “‘We’ll be by at ten to go over the NYC performance and PR progress. Be ready.’”
I slam my palm lightly against the steering wheel. Not enough to dent it—just enough to get the frustration out.
Micah slants me a look. “You okay?”
“Yeah, man,” I say, steadying my voice. “We can handle whatever the fuck comes.”
Micah nods. “I bet Nolan’s got some plans for us. Bastard never sugarcoats anything.”
“He never does.”
He huffs. “Neither does the bitch.”
“Nope.”
But I’m steady. Grounded. More sure of this than anything in years. Emma’s not just part of my life again...sheismy life.
Micah’s already got two neat white lines raked into the counter when I walk out of the bathroom, hair still wet, shirt stuck to the heat rising off my skin. The curtains are half-drawn, letting a shaft of sun cut right across the marble, as if spotlighting our deterioration.
Micah taps the side of his nose. “Breakfast of champions.”
I huff a humorless laugh. The oxy is still in both of our blood from earlier. “You’re unbelievable.” But my body is already leaning forward. He hands me the rolled hundred-dollar bill, still warm from his fingers. My pulse kicks before I even inhale.
I bend over the counter.
The burn hits instantly. Sharp, icy fire.
It slices up my nostril, behind my eyes, into my throat. My heart jolts. The world is suddenly too bright and too loud. Everything inside me sparks like someone electrocuted my very blood.
I exhale, jaw clenching with the rush. “Jesus,” I mutter. “That’s—fuck.”
Micah grins, nose powdered, pupils blown wide. “See? Glow mode activated.”
The floor feels like it’s vibrating under my feet. My thoughts whip fast and loose, sparking off each other. Then my phone buzzes.
Emma: Are you free for lunch? I’d love to see you if you can.
My stomach drops and shoots upward at the same time. Coke and adrenaline collide in my veins like they’re trying to outdo each other.
Micah sees my face and laughs. “Good luck hidingthatfrom her.”
“Shut up.”