Page 12 of Quake

Reluctantly, I swing my legs over the side of the couch, standing and stretching my arms over my head with a low moan. I make my way into the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab the small bag with all my supplies.

I scroll through my blood sugar readings on my phone and get to work cleaning the top of the vial, drawing up the correct dose. When I’m ready, I use an alcohol prep pad to cleanse the sore, mottled skin on my abdomen.

I wince as the cold medicine sinks into my bruised, thickened skin. Truthfully, I should start injecting elsewhere because the absorption rate is likely negatively impacted by the scar tissue I’ve formed in my usual spots.You should get a fucking pump, my brainscreams at me. And as always, I just roll my eyes at her and move along.1

***

I feel a buzzing coming from my back pocket. Twisting, I pull it out and see a newly familiar name flash across the screen.

Kat

Hey! Would you wanna do dinner tonight?

Kat

I know it’s last minute, but there’s this Thai place I’ve been dying to try.

That’s odd. Gianni must not like Thai food if she’s asking me to go with her. I check the time but realize it wouldn’t matter anyway since Tyler probably wouldn’t even notice if I were gone.

That actually sounds nice!

What time?

Kat

Meet me there at 6:00?

Kat

It’s called Mama Thai.

Great, see you then.

Taking a look at the time, I realize it’s already after four. I’ve been reading forhours. That’s not unusual, but I really hadn’t been aware of the time. The book was just so good.

Typing the restaurant name into the search bar, I see that it’s less than fifteen minutes away, so I have plenty of time to finish this chapter and get ready to go.

1. I Am Machine — Three Days Grace

Chapter nine

Lark

Ipull up in front of the restaurant and see Kat standing on the sidewalk beside the wooden pergola that hangs over the outdoor seating. She’s wearing curve-hugging light-wash jeans, a white crop top, and a cardigan. Her dark waves flutter around her in the wind, her face framed by a strand of white hair.

When she notices me pull up beside her, a huge grin slides across her face, and those light-brown eyes of hers twinkle under the café lights.

I put it in park, pocket the keys, and grab my bag from the passenger seat before exiting the car.

“Who would’ve thought?” She smirks, shaking her head gently.

“What?” I ask, my brow quirked.

Her smirk broadens into a wide smile. “I don’t know, I guess I just hadn’t pictured you driving behind the wheel of aFirebird,” she prods.

Understanding zips through me. “Oh, yeah, I get that a lot.” I chuckle. “I helped my dad fix this beauty up when I was in high school, and she’s been mine ever since. I think in another life, I probably would’ve been an F1 driver,” I joke.

“Well,sheis beautiful.” She laughs. “I love the dark-red interior. It looks like a perfect color match to the glossy outside.”

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