Page 29 of The Slayer
He turned his head, giving her a look over his shoulder that caused a ripple of something hot and unnamable to rush through her bloodstream.
“That was a dumb question,” she whispered.
“Yup,” he agreed as he started washing the dishes. “I don’t need you to wake me up from my nightmares. That would be a very bad idea.”
“But I’m pretty sure you do need supervision if you’re detoxing. Being alone is aworseidea.”
“I’m sure I’ll live.”
“I think I should stay with you.”
“I think it is physically impossible for you to be as naive as you’re acting,” he countered. “There is no way this is real. I feel like I’m being punked.”
“I’m not naive.” She shrugged. “I just think we’re capable of being responsible adults.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but a responsible adult was never one of them. You can’t sleep in my bed. Not unless you feel like buying a ticket to hell with me. Then, if that’s the case, we can discuss it.”
She huffed. “I wish you’d stop talking ’bout going to hell.”
“If you knew the shit I’ve done in my life, you’d agree with me.” He turned around and glared at her. “Why do you want to help me so bad? Aren’t there nineteen-year-old gringos in this town for you to fuck around with?”
“I don’t have any friends.” She looked at her hands after she admitted it. “At least none my age.”
“We already established we’re not the same age,” he reminded her. “Not even close. Why don’t you have any friends? You look like you should have lots of friends here. You’re all neat and perfect with shiny hair and straight bleached teeth.”
Alaine ran her tongue over her teeth at the mention of the bleaching. “I bought it at the store. No good?”
“It looks fine,” he assured her. “I just told you. Smoking hot.”
“Okay.” She nodded and looked at her hands again. “I appreciate that. The compliment. You’re smoking hot too, but I assume you know that.”
He laughed. “I honestly did not think anything could distract me from this miserable shit I’m going through. You’re sweet, mami. Too bad you’re stuck living next to me.”
“I was really excited to have a neighbor,” she said as she looked back up at Chuito, finding him leaning against the sink studying her. “It’s so lonely here at night.”
“Like prison,” he mused as he glanced around her apartment. “I know why I’m stuck here, but I don’t understand why you are. You don’t make friends in college?”
“I do most of my classes online, but I drive to Mercy three days a week. It’s too far to make friends. I just go and come back, because I hate leaving Jules alone to handle everything.”
“You don’t have friends from high school?”
“I had lots of friends in high school, but they were all part of the church. When I left, they stopped being friends.” She lowered her gaze, because it still hurt her feelings. “I guess they weren’t really my friends.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“I just—” She paused as she thought about it. “I wanted something different for myself. I wanted an education and a career instead of a husband and kids.”
Chuito dried his hands on the towel as he considered that. “They don’t want you to get an education?”
She shook her head. “My father thought it was a waste of money. When Jules offered to pay, he got so mad I had to move out. He doesn’t like Jules.”
“What about your mother?”
“She passed away.”
Chuito hung the towel on the stove, clearly deep in thought. “How long you been in prison here, mami?”
“Over a year,” she whispered miserably. “Alone. In this place every night.”
