“That’s me. I’m the skank,” I mutter, heading to the kitchen sink and pouring myself a glass of water, trying to ignore the cigarette butts put out in the centre of a plate. My sisters would be appalled.
Elise studies my apartment—crumpled clothes sprawled across the floor, sheets twisted, empty bottles on random shelves like a fucking art installation. I’ll call it alcoholic chic. “I haven’t told my best friend about this train wreck you have become,” she says. “You need to stop, Konnor. Aren’t we supposed to be getting her back? What the hell are you doing?”
I laugh mirthlessly. “I thoughtIwas your best friend,” I croak, then cough harshly into my fist.
“Have you been smoking again?”
Her scowl hits me like a punch to the gut, and I almost cower like a lame dog. “Maybe… yes.”
“Elaborate.”
“Yes, I’m smoking,” I spit out. “Buthell yeswe’re getting her back, but you told me to give her damn space!”
Avoiding the grill, avoiding her, feels like severing a rope made from my own bleeding veins. I know she'll be playing, looking like a freaking goddess, humming our song to a room of strangers who don’t understand.
I pace the kitchen. “Can I see her? Please? Is she ready? Has she started talking to you about it all?”
A lazy, mocking yawn drifts from the living room, followed by a petulant voice. “Did that nerdy little bitch just call me a whore?”
“Who the fuck are you?” I scowl at the top of a blonde head. Mystery blonde slowly sits up, still fully dressed—thank fuck, thank fuck—and for one gut punching second, the hair is the right length, the right colour, and I hope it’s Blesk. Then she peers over the back of the sofa. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
The blonde blinks at me. “You called me last night. You don’t remember?”
I drag a hand through my hair and stare at the floor, searching my memory. “Leave.”
“Knew I smelt skank,” Elise says, and when I look up she has her arms crossed over her chest.
“Bitch,” the blonde sneers, collecting her purse from the table and sliding her heels on while holding the edge of the sofa for balance.
“Watch your mouth around my friend,” I growl.
The blonde’s lips cut a straight line across her face. “What? She called me a whore first!”
“A skank,” Elise corrects, eyeing the girl from head to toe like she’s an infestation.
I point at Elise, then flip my stare to the girl. “See her?” I growl. The blonde nods. “She matters to me, and I don’t even know who the hell you are, so get the fuck out of here.”
“Did you two have sex?” Elise says, lifting a brow at me.
God, I hope not.
I stare wide-eyed at the girl and hold my breath…
“No.” The blonde pushes her way between us, huffing towards the door, her bag hanging from one shoulder, her heels clipping the floor to an angry beat. “I don’t like being called other girls’ names.”
I exhale with relief. Neither does Blesk… The Blonde is almost at the door when my mouth moves before my brain catches the question. “What name?”
She stops. Scowls at me. “Blesk.”
Not Liz.
Blesk…
I don’t give a fuck—I’m going to see Duch play at The Grill. Elise said she is talking about what happened, that she asked about me, that she is hugging her phone a lot more than is natural, and I’m insanely jealous of that inanimate object. Elise also threatened to separate some of my limbs if I come on too fast…
She told me not to make an appearance tonight because she is still working on things with Blesk. That she still needs more time, but I can’t go another moment without seeing her. I need to just take a peek.
Walking into The Grill, looking fucking dapper, I wander over to the bar. Leaning on the Jack Daniels bar-run, I signal the bartender, Jewels.