“Or not.”
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Either way, I’ll definitely have a decision by then.”
“Fair enough,” she said, clinking her bottle against mine. Then she turned on her heels and headed down the hall to take a shower.
I set my beer down and picked up one of the bottle caps, rolling it between my fingers. When I heard the bathroom door close, I pulled my sleeve up to my elbow and looked at the scars on the inside of my arm.
They were raised and white, having healed a long time ago. Still, I dragged the sharp edge of the bottle cap over them, scratching along the scar just hard enough to feel something.
Anything.