Page 50 of Ecstasy
My stomach flutters as I watch the silver knob to Alex’s door turn. I hold my breath as Eli Addison steps through the doorway, his tattooed hand clenched around the knob.
His eyes go to me first, and I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I want to kill him.
Alex’s arm tightens around me, his fingers curling around my shoulder.
Eli must notice the subtle movement, or else he’s done torturing me, because he looks up to meet Alex’s gaze. “You want a ride?” He’s in a black t-shirt, grey shorts. There are shadows under his green eyes, and I wonder if he’s always up like he was last night.
I wonder if he ever sleeps. I wonder if he’s actually insane.
I wonder if I am.
I wonder when I can talk to him. When I can rip his fucking head off and tell him we are never doing that again. It was a mistake, and he’s a fucking bastard.
I have no idea why he lied. Maybe he’s just bored? I don’t know, but I do know he doesn’t know me. Not like he seems to think he does. And if he thinks I’m going to let him get away with that shit, fuck that.
“Nah,” Alex says, leaning against me as he sinks onto the bed. “I’ve got to take Zara to her place so she can get some clothes.”
Eli’s eyes find mine again. I open my mouth to tell Alex I’m not going to the funeral. It’s not my place to be there. I don’t want to go.
But nothing comes out as Eli stares at me, the corners of his mouth lifting, like he thinks my paralysis is funny.
“Oh?” he says in his quiet voice. He lets go of the doorknob, crosses his arms and leans against the frame. “You’re coming? I didn’t know you and Rihanna were close.”
Dick.
Alex looks to me.
My mouth is still open, but all I can think about is Eli fingering me last night against the kitchen island.
My face heats with the memory. This bastard.
“She wasn’t,” Alex finally answers for me, “but she’s coming with me.”
Eli arches a brow, focusing on Alex. “I didn’t know you two were so close either.”
“Whatever, man. My dad will be there. I’ve got to go.”
His dad will be there? Yeah. I’m not going.
Eli nods. “See you there.” Then he pulls the door closed without looking at me again and I hear him walk down the hallway, toward the stairs.
I exhale, my heart fluttering in my chest.
“You okay?” Alex asks me.
I clear my throat, shift on the bed and slide off, ducking out of his arms. He stands too, facing me, his hands in his pockets. “Alex, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“I know, Zara,” he says through gritted teeth. “I know you don’t know. I know you would never really do that.” He says it like he’s not sure. Like he’s trying to convince himself.
“I’m not actually…” I clear my throat again. “I’m not actually feeling well. I’m going to um, I’m going to stay home.”
Alex’s brows flick up. “I don’t think you should.”
My temper rises alongside my hunger, my thirst, and my general irritation with being in this house, so far from my drugs, and with two boys that I’ve fucked with, one I’ve fucked over. “I want to stay home. I don’t want to go.”
