Page 4 of Marked
CHEYENNE
“You should go out with him,” Javi murmurs, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb as he watches me flit around my bedroom in search of my missing sneaker. I wish I could say this is the first time I’ve misplaced something after getting blackout drunk the night before, but I’m far too accustomed to these scavenger hunts.
“Who?” I grumble back as I bend down to take a peek underneath the bed.No shoe, but somehow my sunglasses wound up under here…
“Iver.”
I roll my eyes, dropping to a knee and reaching an arm under the bed. “I don’t even know him.”
“You know that he obviously likes you,” he replies with a teasing lilt to his tone.
“He doesn’t know me,” I huff, sweeping my hand back and forth blindly until my fingers curl around my favorite pair of aviators. I’d thought these babies were gone for good– it never occurred to me to check under here duringthatsearch.
“Youdorealize that’s the point of going out, right?” Javi snorts. “So you canget to knoweach other.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I mutter as I push back up to my feet, sliding the sunglasses on before pivoting around to continue the hunt.
“Chey…”
“Javi,” I reply flatly.
He heaves a sigh, and even though I’m not looking his way, I can picture the pitying expression on his face that accompanies it. Which is why I don’t turn around to engage him. We’ve done this song and dance way too many times at this point, and it’s growing tiresome. I wish he’d just give up and accept that I’m destined to be a recluse.
“You can’t go through your whole life alone,” he says softly.
“I’m not alone, I have you,” I quip as I start rifling through the laundry hamper, bound and determined to find my damn sneaker. It’s one half of the only pair I’ve got, and I’d rather not resort to wearing my ratty hiking boots to this full moon run. Unlacing them to shift would be a pain in the ass.
Javi sighs again in quiet resignation. “Have you checked your dresser?”
My aviators slide down the bridge of my nose as I twist around to face him. “Why would my shoe be in my…?”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk and I snap my own shut, rushing over to the dresser. I hold my breath as I pull open the top drawer, anddamnit I hate that he knows me so well.
My cheeks flame as I pull the white low top sneaker out, swiveling back around and narrowing my eyes as I point the toe of it in his direction. “Don’t look so smug.”
He shakes his head with a low chuckle. “What can I say? Drunk Chey is predictable.”
“Yet you still stood there and watched me search.”
“Free entertainment,” he shrugs.
I whip my precious sneaker at him with a snarl, a laugh tumbling from his chest as he ducks to dodge it.
“You’re a real dick, you know that?” I grumble, turning back toward the dresser to hide my smile and shifting my sunglasses up to rest atop my head. I peer down into the drawer again, finding the bottle of gin that I’d assumed I finished off last night resting amongst my socks. Evidently I didn’t, and there’s just enough liquor left inside to take the edge off my frayed nerves.
Lifting the bottle out of the drawer, I remove the cap and bring the rim to my lips, twisting back around as I tip it back. It’s a struggle not to choke on the taste when it hits my tongue. Gin isn’t my favorite, but beggars can’t be choosers. My friend Meg offered me this bottle because she said it ‘tastes like gross pine needles’, and I was all too quick to accept.
In hindsight, she was right about the pine needle thing.
Javi eyes the bottle as I lower it from my mouth, his jovial expression now replaced by a disapproving frown.
He doesn’t like how much I drink.
Hell, I don’t either, but alcohol is the only thing I’ve found that numbs my mind enough to sleep most nights. Or to function some days. Everyone has their own coping mechanisms for dealing with trauma, and this is mine.
His gaze lifts, but he doesn’t say anything about the booze when our eyes meet. Rather than judgment, all I find lurking in his dark eyes is a deep sense of understanding. Javi knows how rough tonight is bound to be for me, and he’s nothing if not a supportive bestie.
I don’t do well in crowds. Or with strangers. The full moon run tonight with the Westfield pack involves a crowd full of strangers, so suffice to say I’mnotlooking forward to it.
