Page 60 of Touch Me

“She has a point, Smash,” Alex cuts in.

“So what, am I supposed to fix all the lame fucks on the west coast? I don’t have time for that. I just want to get mine, and they can get gone.”

“Fair enough,” I concede.

Something tells me Ashley has had some major heartbreak in her past. She’s jaded and has what I can only describe as intimacy aversion. Sex doesn’t rank on that scale for her as intimacy, but even the good sex doesn’t warrant a repeat, which tells me she has no intention of finding anything beyond the superficial. She sees protection and self-preservation in her wisdom. Wisdom forged in pain, no doubt.

Of course this is purely speculation. I’m drunk, and I just met the girl.

SIXTEEN

NO RUNNING

Now I knowwhy investigative journalism isn’t my end goal. This is exhausting. And gut-wrenching. I wasn’t asked to work on the case, because, duh, I’m an intern. But I can’t help but gather all the known details, twisting and turning them over and over in my mind.

Digging my fingers into my head, I try to rub away the tension between my eyebrows and the pounding in my temples. And for what? I’m not some PI in a trenchcoat combing the streets at night looking for clues. This isn’t my area of expertise, and for good reason. I need to let it go and stop worrying so much. I mean, the chances of the guy cutting up someone I know has to be slimmer than me running into Tommy Lee at Starbucks. Oh, but wouldn’t that be grand, orgrande,whatever.

It’s Saturday, my first day off from writing since I started my internship. Yet, here I sit, searching every word of every story written about this lunatic. I don’t know why I’m so stuck on this. Once the initial shock wore off, everything went back to normal. Normal being writing fluff pieces for pennies.

I assume the investigative journalists are still running mad with the story, but they’re housed on a different floor, so I have no reason to still have the weight of it sitting on my chest. But there it rests.

Jace ordered takeout from the same Thai place he ordered from a few weeks ago when I stole his food. I’m in such a funk it doesn’t even taste good. Maybe I only like Thai food after the surge of adrenaline rushing through my veins after stealing it. I wonder if there’s any psychological research on that. Beats the hell out of focusing all my attention on a serial killer.

This mood calls for shots in an attempt to pregame my way out of this suffer spiral and straight into Girl’s Night. The shot glass clinks on the marble when the buzz of my phone scares the bejeebus out of me.

Ally:

Hey, don’t be mad. I’m gonna cancel on you.

Me:

What? Why?

Ally:

I’m sorry. I had a busy week, and Derek said he just wanted to come over and chill. Dinner, movie, cuddles. He said he didn’t want me to leave town on my own with all that happened last week.

Me:

Fine. I guess I can understand that. Makes me feel a little better actually.

Ally:

I’ll make it up to you. Promise.

Me:

No worries. Have fun “cuddling” *snort*

Ally:

You know, you’re maturing before my very eyes.

Me:

Bite me.

Ally:

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