Page 44 of The Venom We Bleed

It’s a dangerous curiosity.

Nolan glances back at Lex. “I know I can’t convince you to just let it go, but at the very least, I hope you’ll keep us in mind—whatever actions you take don’t just affect you, they affect all three of us.”

Whether we want to admit it or not, Juliet Donovan is affecting us all.

18

JULIET

Friday arrives, and I’m ready to chew my own arm off to get the hell out of my apartment—even if it means attending a shittastic party. When I still had my BMW, I used to just drive into the city for the weekend and get trashed at a club with Bran or Avery to unwind. Now, I have little else in the way of entertainment options other than Roquel’s party invite.

A week of dealing with insults from Megan and her crew and the childish pranks of trash in my locker, gum on my seats, and worms in my lunch have me strung so tight that I’m ready to beat someone to a bloody pulp. Yet, still, I haven’t made it back to Cory’s since seeing Giovanni Vargas there. My safe haven has become a place to avoid and I hate him all the more for that.

Nothing is sacred anymore thanks to the Scorpion Kings.

Lights flash from the parking lot of my apartment building, spearing into the thin window above my kitchen sink. Before Roquel can flash them a second time, I’m out the door and heading down the stairs leading to the parking lot. Unlike what I used to wear to Prep parties—heels, club dresses, and thousand-dollar diamonds—tonight I've opted for the fashion of a wallflower. A pair of ripped jeans, a black tanktop, and a blackand gray flannel. My blue hair is pulled up in a high ponytail at the back of my head, swinging against my neck as I jog down the metal stairs and hit the pavement at a light run.

Roquel’s car—an older gray Toyota Camry—sits towards the back of the lot, pointed directly towards my building. I hit the sidewalk and make my way over, pivoting towards the passenger’s side door. I pop the handle and slide inside to find her touching up her lipstick in the cracked visor mirror before slapping it back up and tossing the Dollar Store brand tube into the console.

Her eyes widen when she takes a look at me. “Wow, Jules,” she murmurs, her eyes roving down my clothes with no small amount of dismay, “I was never invited to the Silverwood Prep parties, but … is this what the rich kids are wearing these days?”

I roll my eyes and gesture to the frayed jean skirt she’s wearing over fishnets and the ripped black band shirt tucked into the waistband. “It’s going to be cold outside,” I tell her, not bothering to answer the question. “You’re going to freeze wearing that getup.”

I slide my seatbelt on as Roquel backs out of the parking spot at the speed of light. My heart jumps against my ribcage as the seatbelt immediately constricts across my chest.Fuck.

“Get enough alcohol in me and I won’t even notice the cold,” she says.

“Aren’t you driving?” I remind her pointedly as I try not to focus on how close she gets to the curb as she speeds out onto the main road.

She shrugs, unconcerned. “You can drive back.”

I sit back, annoyance flaring to life. I hadn’t planned on drinking—there isn’t anyone I trust in this town to see me even remotely intoxicated—but I’d at least wanted the option. Roquel chatters on about the guy she’s hoping to see at the party. She says the guy’s name so many times I’m sure it’s ingrained inthe back of my skull by the time she slows down and turns onto a dark street. I sit up a bit straighter and glance around as she shuts off her headlights and slows the car down to a stop halfway up the block. She puts the car into park but doesn’t turn it off as she lifts her phone from the console and swipes it open.

Confused, I glance from where she sits typing out a text to the dark street ahead. “What are you doing?” I finally ask.

Roquel finishes typing out her message and hits send before replying. “We’re picking up Madison,” she answers. “Her parents are…” Roquel grimaces and sighs before unclicking her seatbelt and turning fully to face me. “Madison’s parents are a bit strict,” she says. “Remember how I told you about last year’s fiasco with her old boyfriend? What he did?”

I nod and Roquel’s lips pinch together briefly before she continues. “She isn’t allowed out,” Roquel says. “Not to go to work, not to go to parties?—”

“Wait, but you got her a job at The Dionysus Lounge,” I remind her.

Roquel tips her head to the side. “Yeah, and her parents have no clue. She has to sneak out to go to work too. I doubt she’d ever say anything, but I’m pretty sure she gets into trouble every time they catch her gone.”

“Where do they think she’s going?”

Roquel shrugs. “Dunno. That’s her business.”

I sit back against the cheap faux leather seat. “I don’t blame them for being protective,” I murmur as a pit opens up in my stomach. “If some asshole released a sex tape of my kid, I’d fucking kill them.” Not that I’ll ever have kids. With parents like mine—a criminal and a coward—I doubt I’d be much of a mom.

The sound of Roquel’s scoff brings my attention back to her. “They’re notprotective,” Roquel mimics the last word as if it’s a filthy curse. “They’re controlling.”

“At least they care.” Unlike mine.

The reminder hits me in the chest. The numerous emails from my father’s lawyer asking me to see him aren’t the only things I’ve been avoiding. My dad’s best friend, Morpheus Calloway, is another piece of my past I don’t want to think about. He’s been emailing me a lot too, asking to meet up and practically begging me to reconsider his offer. Unlike my parents, Morpheus is a good person. He feels guilty for his best friend’s daughter—even if that best friend almost made him lose his entire business.

He’s the one person in this entire fucking town that doesn’t hate me and isn’t trying to use me. He just wants to make sure I’m taken care of, and it almost hurts that I won’t let myself rely on him. I can’t. No one gets my full trust anymore. Not even him, even if he probably deserves it. Anger curdles in my stomach, flaring to life.

“Just because some parents are around doesn’t mean they should be,” Roquel murmurs quietly—almost too quiet for me to hear, but I hear it. Slowly, I turn my head again to face her. She’s no longer looking at me though. Instead, her eyes are locked on a distant point through the front windshield. “Sometimes, leaving is the better choice. If all they’re going to do is ruin our lives and fuck up our futures, then they can get lost and leave us to our own devices.”

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