Page 58 of Firestorm
I glanced at my phone, seeing a text from Skye.
FUTURE WIFE
Getting ready. What color are you wearing?
The message was an hour old.
Goddamnit.
I was fucking up again.
I hadn’t even texted her to see if she was okay after the altercation with Landon. I’d been too scared, skipping class today and hiding away in my dorm. My roommate had come by for all of five minutes, seen the mood I was in, then fled right before my mother called.
I came upon the woods, trekking down the familiar worn path. I could already hear the bass pounding in the clearing up ahead, though it was muffled by the trees. I glanced down at my phone again, seeing an email from Wyatt, encouraging me to make a secondary appointment for this upcoming week.
I scoffed. No fucking way. That had Lucille Brandt written all over it.
Another message came in from Skye.
FUTURE WIFE
We’re leaving in thirty. Should we meet somewhere?
I stopped in my tracks, my mouth dry as I blinked at my phone.
Yes, we should meet somewhere. Skye said it herself, she wasn’t a party girl. She was probably nervous, not wanting to be here alone. Knowing Willow Craig, she’d be forcing Skye into some skimpy outfit that made her uncomfortable, too. And knowing Skye, she’d wear it just to make her friend happy. Or maybe she’d be excited to wear it because she was seeing me?
Fuck. I wasn’t ready for any of that. I was in the wrong headspace, the kind where I hated myself and wanted to go jump off a building. Or get really, really drunk.
Then, a text came in from Carla, who I’d been ignoring since her stupid run-in with Skye.
What the fuck was in the air tonight?
I glanced up at the full moon, and almost laughed. No wonder everything was going fucking haywire. This party was about to be really fun or really, really horrible.
CARLA (BLONDE, BROWN EYES)
I have pills. I’ll be by the cooler if you wanna hang.
I didn’t want to hang. Especially not with Carla. She always gave me weird shit.
But my hands twitched at the thought of those pills and the oblivion they promised.
For a moment, I swear I heard Skye’s voice in my mind.
What the fuck, Aiden?
What the fuck was right. Jesus, I needed help. Not Wyatt and his canned responses, either. Real, professional help.
But what sort of help was out there for whatever the fuck myproblem was? Even as my feet started moving again, I knew I was fucking up. My stomach cramped from how badly I was fucking up. But even as that all happened, I couldn’t stop myself.
I swiped past Skye’s text, replying to Carla’s instead.
ME
See you in five.
Chapter 19
