Page 78 of Bad Blood

Pant, pant, die.

Ha. The alternate route and temporary lack of oxygen helped.

All thoughts of Brighton are gone.

Or they were.

Shit.

I drop onto the step, leaning against the railing, Liam’s sushi and soup at my side.

He’s too observant. He’s gonna know. And I won’t lie to him. But what am I gonna say to make what took place tonight not seem like a complete betrayal?

I was being friendly. And Brighton started it, so it’s not entirely on me.

Axel and Bane scuffle behind the door as I make it to our apartment, and I focus on the idea of an ice-cold shower and a run at the park to distract myself, hoping it’s enough to keep Liam off my case.

“Hey, guys,” I say as I ruffle Axel’s ear.

“Is my soup cold?”

“Hello to you too.”

“What took so long?” He glares at me over the back of the sofa, muting the TV.

“Ran into a friend.” I freeze, hoping Liam doesn’t start digging.

“At Yogi’s?” He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his soccer ball from the floor beside him. He eyes me, and I can only assume guilt is all over my face.

I continue to stare at the floor, petting Axel. If I ignore Liam long enough, maybe I can bluff my way out of his questioning.

He grabs the bag from my hand, peeking inside. “Did you get the spicy mustard?”

“It should be in there.”

He rifles through the bag, drops his ball to the ground, and stabilizes it with his foot. “What’s this?”

I stiffen. I’m sure I can talk my way out of whatever it is, but I’ll have to chance making eye contact.

He holds up a napkin, the corner of his lip turned up in disgust.

A chuckle creeps from my lips, and his eyes snap to me. I sense his death stare and wait him out.

“They’re called napkins, Liam. They’re to wipe your face.”

“Not if they’re used.” The words roll off his tongue as my heart plummets to my toes.

Oh, fuck.

He turns it, showing me the light pink lipstick smudge across the edge. I’m screwed.

“I don’t want this.” He pulls the sushi container out of the plastic bag and sets it on the counter, disgust written all over his face. “Where’s the soup?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I left it on the step.

Fuck me.

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