Page 92 of Insatiable Hunger

Katie’s expression softens as she stares at me with what I can only describe as pity. Maybe sympathy. “Oh, honey,” she sighs. “I’ll be right back.”

I kick off my shoes, wipe off my face, and shuffle back until I’m resting against my headboard. Katie isn’t gone long. A few minutes pass, if that, and I hear her soft sock-covered feet jog up the staircase. When she appears in the doorframe again, she’s got a frosty half-drank bottle of Ciroc in one hand and a two-liter bottle of Sprite in the other.

“So, we are clearly going to talk about this now.” The bed dips as she sits on the edge, handing me the vodka. “But we need alcohol first.”

Unscrewing the bottle and bringing it to my lips, I down a couple of swallows, not bothering with the Sprite she’s holding. I pass the red and clear glass bottle to her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

After she takes a shot, she hands it back. “So, how does she know? Let’s start there.”

Shaking my head, I say, “I have no fucking clue. There’s no way Zeke would’ve come out and said something unprovoked.” I mean, sure, he said we would figure it all out when we got back, but I would’ve hoped he would’ve given me some sort of a heads up if he was planning on dropping that bomb on her. “So, she must’ve figured it out, but I don’t know how.”

Taking another shot, it warms and numbs on its descent. If only it could also numb my emotions. And possibly my feelings for Zeke.

“Okay, start from the beginning, then,” Katie murmurs.

“Well, I already told you about the Lavender Party,” I remark. “So, I’ll skip that.”

I go through the motions. Telling her everything that’s happened since then. Stopping a few times to take more shots. Not that it’s doing a damn thing to calm my nerves. Especially when I tell her about the rehearsal party kiss in the hallway. And then again when I tell her about the Fourth of July party, when I fucked both Jordan and Zeke within less than an hour of each other.

By the time I finish spilling my guts, I’m definitely buzzed, and I’m unsure if the flush to my face is more from the alcohol or the embarrassment.

“Wow,” Katie blurts out. “That is just… so much more than I expected.”

“Gee, thanks,” I deadpan.

“Did you move out with me, thinking it would stop?”

Blowing out a breath, I drop my head back onto the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Ihopedit would’ve worked, but I don’t know if I truly believed it would. I’ve been living in deep denial over here.”

“I can tell.” Sarcasm drips from her tone but, thankfully, no judgement this time. “So, why him? What makes him so special compared to someone else. Like, say… Jordan?”

My left shoulder lifts in a pathetic shrug. “I don’t know, Katie. The heart wants what it wants.” It feels corny to say that, but it’s the truth. I don’t know how else to word it to make better sense. “Jordan is lovely. I had fun with him, and in a perfect world, we could be friends, but when it came down to it, he just wasn’t what I wanted.”

“And Zeke is?” Again, no judgement.

I blow out a deep breath. “It doesn’t make sense, and it’s wrong on thirty-seven different levels, but yes.” A weight is lifted off my shoulders at that admission. “Zeke is everything I have ever yearned for, but could never put into words. It’s like he was annoyingly made perfectly for me.”

“Is it only sexual?” she asks after taking another shot, handing it to me.

The bottle rests on my knee as I think about her question. The answer pops into my head immediately, but it’s like I don’t want to accept it. At least, not after everything that just happened.

I shake my head before taking another pull, the burn not even present anymore. “It’d probably be easier that way, if it was. Zeke makes me feel safe and adored and special all at the same time. He knows exactly what I need, when I need it, on an emotional level as much as a physical one. His scent literally makes me feel warm inside. Like, how fucking stupid is that?”

“Oh my gosh,” Katie murmurs.

“What?”

“You’re in love with him.”

“I am not,” I scoff. Bringing the bottle up to my lips, I pause briefly before taking a sip. “Oh, fuck. I…” I slap a hand over my mouth, my gaze darting to meet hers as the epiphany of all epiphanies hits me. “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, Elias,” she sighs.

“What the fuck am I going to do?”

“Tonight? Get really fucking drunk with your favorite cousin.” She grins, grabbing the bottle. “And tomorrow? Who fucking knows. Maybe talk to him. Talk to your mom once she has a chance to cool off.”

“She’s probably never going to talk to me ever again,” I grumble, scooting down until I’m lying with my arm thrown over my face. Emotion so thick, it chokes me, hiccups out of me as tears stream down my face. Growing up, it was always my mom and me. She was someone I always knew I could count on, and the idea that she may never forgive me for this guts me.

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