Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Um…molly?” he says like it’s a question. It’s clear he doesn’t have a lot of experience with drugs, and while I should feel bad for selling to him, I don’t feel bad enough about it not to. He makes his own choices, and that’s not on me.
“Closet freak, huh? Help you go longer with your girl?”
“Guy, actually. He says it makes the sex better.”
I grin. “Huh. You’re a surprise. Just make sure it’s really what you want to do. If he can’t pleasure you without it, that’s a him problem. That’s as much of a public service announcement as you’re gonna get from me.”
His gaze darts around—he’s clearly nervous that we’re doing a drug deal in the snow, next to the Ashford U political science building.
“Relax, Mister Better Sex. We’ll be fine.” He gets his money out, and I pull the drugs from my bag. The second I’m paid and hand them over, I see the dean walk down the sidewalk, one building away.
“What’s up, Dean Winters?” I call and wave.
“What? Oh my God.” The kid dives behind a bush. “Don’t call his attention to us.”
“We’re fine.” The dean doesn’t wave back. He hates it that he’s forever in our pocket, but that’s what happens when you have a fascination with choking women you pay to fuck and accidentally kill one. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I tell the guy, then jog over to the dean. “What’s up, Hal?”
“Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
“There anything you need? I think you’d have fun with ketamine. You seem like the kind of guy who would like them a little incapacitated.”
“Jesus Christ, Rory.” This time, it’s the dean’s gaze darting around just like the kid did a few minutes before, and I laugh.
“I’m kidding. I don’t advocate for that shit. I actually like to cut off the dicks of guys who try to force people to fuck them. What a bunch of losers.”
He bristles, then lifts a hand, adjusting his glasses.
I shouldn’t be fucking with him, but I can’t help it. I’m so goddamned bored, and I feel out of sorts lately. Lonely, I think, like Ash said.
“I don’t feel like this is a very appropriate conversation,” the dean says.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick,” I add pointedly, to continue pissing him off. There’s nothing he can do about it, which makes this fun.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick,” he amends.
Since this isn’t as fun as I’d hoped, I say, “The kid you saw me with, he doesn’t get in trouble, right?” The dean knows we sell on campus but doesn’t usually see us in action. I don’t want him to find a roundabout way to get the horny nerd in trouble.
“I know. I hate myself for it.”
“You should hate yourself even more for killing that woman. I might have blood on my hands, but you do too. Have a good day, Hal.”
I pull my hood up and walk away. I head straight to my car, then back to the house. It’s empty, everyone in class like good boys. I smoke a bowl, then play video games, but it’s not as fun by myself. The house is too quiet, my legs are getting restless, so before long, I push to my feet and stuff my hands in my pockets to grab my fidget spinner, but I must have lost it. I have no idea what I’ll do when Cillian and Ollie are gone. That’ll make things even worse.
I tug my phone out of my pocket and text Cil.
Coming home after class?
Cil: Running an errand for Tiernan, then taking Ollie to lunch. Why? What’s up?
Nothing, really. I don’t know why I’m acting like this, why I suddenly have a problem being in an empty house and keeping myself busy.
Cil: Aren’t you supposed to be in class? I just checked your location and you’re at home. You need me?
I don’t. I’m just…antsy. It feels like everything is changing.
Nah, I’m fine. Was just curious. I’m gonna take a nap or some shit.
Cil: You don’t take naps.
Me: I do today, motherfucker. I can’t be tired or what?
I don’t have to add an LOL. Cil knows me well enough to realize I’m just busting his balls.
Cil: Stop being a bastard. Take your nap. I’ll see you later.
I don’t take a nap, though. I smoke another bowl, eat a bowl of cereal, then go upstairs.
I could leave, go find some trouble, go do shit I have no business doing, but then I’ll have to deal with Tiernan and his lectures about knowing how to control ourselves—though Dean’s been getting the brunt of those because the motherfucker is a loose cannon.
But I want to recreate the thrill I felt when Blue Eyes had a gun to my head, want to go out and do something, anything, to feel that sense of danger I love, or hell, maybe even just to find someone to fuck.