Page 25 of Overdose
I stare at myself. Hard. Like I’m trying to find her—the version of me that wasn’t neck-deep in neon chaos and bad decisions. The one with a future. A plan. A brain not short-circuiting over two guys who feel like they were genetically engineered to ruin me.
What the hell am I doing?
My hand lifts to my lips—muscle memory, maybe. And yeah. Still there.
The echo of his mouth on mine, burned in like a bruise you forget to cover.
That kind of kiss doesn’t fade. It brands. Marks you from the inside out, and I haven’t stopped tasting it since.
He won’t kiss you like I did.
His voice is still echoing between my ears, dark, smug and unfairly sexy. God, he’s infuriating.
Yeah. No shit.
I’ve kissed a lot of people. Girls, guys, a few regrettable blurs behind club dumpsters. But none of them hadthatkind of bite. None of them kissed like Dagger—cocky, hot, sharp-tongued bastard. He didn’t just kiss to feel something. He kissed like he was trying to burn me alive and leave his initials in the ash.
All heat and hard edges. Intensity dialed up to ruin-your-life, and the most messed up part?
I want more of it.
God, Ihatethat I want more of it.
I haven’t even kissed Noir, and still—I know. They’re both poison. Just brewed in different fucking batches.
Dagger’s the gasoline. Noir’s the cigarette, and me? I’m the idiot striking the match with a grin, like I won’t go up in flames.
Voices jolt me out of the spiral.
Two girls are crowded by the cracked mirror like it’s prom night and they’re fighting over who gets the last dab of glitter gloss. Crop tops, fake lashes, the whole drunken goddess aesthetic. One of them snaps her compact closed and throws venom like it’s confetti.
“See, Shay, I told you he was a lying little bitch.”
Shay—dark hair, angry eyeliner—scoffs, tugging her top down like it’s his fault it’s riding up. “Yeah, yeah, Iknow. Should’ve listened. I still can’t believe I caught him balls-deep inmy roommate. She’s not even cute. Dickhead’s lucky I didn’t cut it off and feed it to him.”
Okay. Well. That escalated fast.
The other girl laughs, sharp and way too loud. “So what now? We just let him get away with it? You’re not gonna cry into your tequila again are you?”
Shay tilts her head, all smug satisfaction. “Already slipped something in his water bottle. Little gift. And with how he chases pills like candy, it won’t take much to push him over the edge.”
I blink. Hard.
I mean. Damn.
She says it like she just keyed his car, not plotted his demise. But her smile’s wide, eyes glittering. I should be horrified. Should be likeoh no, someone stop her!
Instead? I smirk.
Well, shit. You go girl.
I give myself one last look in the mirror, smear some gloss back onto my mouth—because if I’m going to spiral, I might as well look hot doing it, and head for the door.
Only to slam straight into what feels like a brick fucking wall.
Noir.
Because of fucking course.
