Page 26 of Backslide
I feel sick?No. Too much fuss.
I forgot I need to get home. Maybe. It’s believable. Her mom is on the stricter side.
Third, find the elevator, press the button, pray not to get stuck, act like a normal human around any other tenants, exit the building with an awkward nod to the doorman.
Then burst into fresh air, blissfully alone.
She can do that. If she can move from this safe spot back into the other room.The other room. She rotates toward the sink and fills thetumbler with more water. Then she leans over, propping her forearms on the edge and her head in her hands, and groans.
“Um, hey, are you okay?” A voice from the entrance. Gravelly, low.
She looks up. Blinks. And it’shim. Noah of club and sidewalk fame.
Oh Lord. Not him. Not now.
Why didn’t she realize he might be here? With Damien and the short stocky kid?
“I’m fine,” she squeaks, pivoting and leaning back against the counter like this is no big deal. But she misjudges the distance to the sink and almost topples over. He bounds through the narrow kitchen and catches her as she teeters. And the conductive heat of his hands on her lower back and arm is, for just an instant, a distraction from the chaos unraveling in her mind.
He peers into her face, close enough so she can stare in wonder at the yellow flecks in his hazel eyes. “You don’t seem… fine?”
She considers trying to play it off. Pretend all is okay. But, as she steadies herself against the counter and he (regrettably) removes his hands and takes a step back, she realizes she has already humiliated herself enough to render her forever unattractive in his eyes anyway. So, she’s honest.
“I’m too high.”
“Oh,” he says, a look of pity coming over his adorable face. “That sucks. Does this happen to you a lot?”
“What? No! If this happened to me a lot, I would never have taken the bong hit in the first place!”
“Right, right. That makes sense. I didn’t know if you were, like, a stoner.”
Fantastic.
“I actually don’t normally smoke pot,” she says.
“Because?”
“Because I’m scared of something like this!” To clarify, she adds: “I am not, like,chill.”
He suppresses a laugh, like this last fact is obvious, then brings a finger to his mouth like he’s having a thought. “You’re really freaking out, huh?”
“I’m really freaking out.”
“Don’t freak out.”
“I mean… okay?”
He studies her intently, his eyes narrowing. “I think I can help.”
“Really? Can you turn back time? Can you find a way? Can you—”
“Who are you? Cher?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turns and opens a cabinet above them, rifling through its contents with his arm outstretched, so that his shirt rises to expose that smooth strip of skin above his Marky Mark boxer briefs.This again?She wills her eyes up, up, and away, but it isn’t her fault—the drugs made her do it!
If he catches her gawking, he doesn’t let on as he pulls a box of Cheerios down from the shelf.
“Cereal?” she asks, ignoring all the tingles.
