Page 115 of Chokehold
Keith plates us up some pizza and shoves dip in the middle, and we start playing while simultaneously passing joint after joint, until I’m less anxious and more stoned out of my mind. He hasn’t sent any messages today, and for some reason, that makes me feel worse.
All I need to do is talk to him, I know, but what the fuck do I say? Yeah, you drugged me and made me fuck your girlfriend while my girlfriend sucked you off? That you’ve been lying to me the entire time? That Mia was right?
He tricked me, and I don’t know what to do.
“What would you do if someone drugged you and made you fuck their girlfriend?”
Samson and Keith freeze, the joint nearly slipping from the former’s mouth. “What?”
“Hypothetically,” I clarify. “If Keith drugged you, and made you sleep with his girl, while you got his girl to blow you, and he never told you. What would you do?”
Samson’s eyes widen. “I… I don’t know.”
“Blaise did that?”
I sneer. “No. I said hypothetically.”
“Do you plan on doing that to someone?”
I roll my eyes and throw down an Ace of Spades. “No.”
“Because if you are, that’s pretty fucked up, man. Don’t you kind of have a boyfriend?”
I grind my teeth together. “It’s your turn.” I gesture to his cards hanging loosely between his fingers, not even attempting to hide them anymore.
For the next hour, they’re being unnaturally quiet, sharing glances here and there, and they keep going on their phones. Mine is in my bag upstairs in the guest room. The idea ofchecking it every two seconds feels like a painful way to make myself even more ill.
I finish my next joint and stub it out, getting to my feet. “Going to the bathroom.”
They both hum and keep playing the game. I’m already out, so they can continue without me.
Taking two steps at a time to get to the guest room, I make my way in and snatch up my bag. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull out my phone to see only one message from Allie’s new number. The usuals of her asking me what I’m doing and how I am.
I ignore her, like I do with all her messages, and open a new message box, hunting for the number I’m yet to save.
Clocking it, I type without fighting with myself about reaching out to Mia.
Me: Did you know?
The response is strangely instant.
Mia: About what?
Me: That Blaise drugged me that night.
Mia: He drugged me too, I think. I only remember some moments, but I don’t think I drank enough to be like that. Are you finally telling me you remember what happened between us?
Me: I didn’t know.
Mia: Do you want to come over? We can talk about it? I won’t tell Blaise, I promise. I know you two are together now.
I frown at the screen. Why the hell would I want to go there and talk about it? What’s there to discuss? Blaise drugged us, made us fuck, and the damage is done. The damage is… I don’t even know if it can be fixed.
Shaking my head, I pinch the bridge of my nose as another message comes in from her.
Mia: We were sober that day in the shower. You know there is a connection between us. Why not explore it? We don’t need to tell anyone until we know we’d work out.
Instead of replying, I narrow my eyes and click off her chat box. Did I just give her mixed signals? Did I just reawaken this fucking fascination she has with me?
