Page 4 of Ward Willing
I won’t fucking tolerate it.
She’s my…
She’s…
The music is too loud, and my skin pebbles for no reason other than the fact that I’m touching her. It’s like everything is enhanced.
“What are you doing, Liam?” she yells, trying to pull out of my grasp. I open and close my mouth to respond, but the lights from the stage are flickering around her face and combined with the bright purple flower behind her ear, she’s somehow even more fucking beautiful than she usually is. “Are youhigh?” she asks, laughing hysterically. “Your pupils are dilated.”
My brows furrow as I watch her. “High? Why the fuck would I be high?”
She’s nearly doubled over in laughter. “Did you happen to eat some of my special brownies?”
Realization slams into me.
The brownie—the one I shoved into my mouth without thinking.
“Edibles?Really, Zoe?”
Her hand comes to her mouth as she laughs some more. “Please, like you never got high with my dad. Besides, they’re legal in California?—”
“Yes, because I’m sure that argument holds merit considering it’s only legal if you’re twenty-one,” I snap, my eyes dragging over the pebbled flesh of her chest.
My pulse spikes when I see how heavily she’s breathing, how fuckingsofther skin looks…
Shit. It’s the edible talking.
“It was fucking irresponsible of you to bring drugs with you,” I snap, wavering between being impaired and wanting to scold her.
“Fine, but?—”
“Listen to me,” I say, emphasizing each word. I reach out and grip her shoulders, wanting her to fully grasp the reality of this situation. She could’ve been arrested. “I’m pretty sure it’s still a misdemeanor to possess marijuana under the age of twenty-one. That’s a hefty fine, or maybe jail time, or both. Is that what you want? Your entire future up in flames? This is a big deal, and I won’t tolerate this behavior.”
It’s been drizzling on and off all day, and the rain begins to pick up, suddenly coming down harder. The man she’d been dancing with walks over to where we’re standing, but I pull her away from him.
“You can fuck right off,” I growl at him, my hands still on Zoe’s arms.
As Zoe opens her mouth to argue, the sky opens further and people scatter. She stares up at me without flinching.
“What was that for?”
“He’s twice your age,” I explain.
She steps away and balls her fists, and in this moment, she lookssosmall—especially with the rain already soaking through her dress. I watch as the heavy drops cling to her golden skin and her dark lashes as she stares up at me.
Beyond the playfulness, I see the sadness behind her pupils.
The heavy weight that follows her everywhere.
Thegrief.
I know because that same weight follows me everywhere, too.
I’m an asshole for being so hard on her, because at the core of it, sheisgrieving.
“You know you can stop worrying about me now,” she slurs.
“I’ll always worry,” I grit out.
