Page 66 of Breadwinner

“A pitcher of cucumber-mint water, please,” Nell added.

The waitress nodded and disappeared.

“Just water?” Sarah asked, her curiosity rightfully getting the better of her.

She didn’t answer Sarah, simply looked at Nate, who slipped his phone back into his pocket and gave her a look that said,Are you sure?

She was.

She was more than sure that this was something she wanted to do with Sarah. She nodded, and he slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. He produced a small metal tin that he placed on the mirrored table between the three of them, opening it with the ease of someone who had done this before, because he had—dozens of times.

Nell watched Sarah closely as she digested the revelation.

“Are you fucking serious? In your minimal free time, you do... Molly?” she asked, looking at the tin on the table.

“Molly. MDMA. E.” Nell shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Call it whatever you want, but yes. From time to time, when I’m feeling like I want to let go, this is what I do.”

“And you...” Sarah turned her attention to Nate. “You just, what? Play lifeguard?”

“Yup. I’m here to keep you both safe. I don’t touch the stuff anymore.” Nate shrugged. “We’re all adults here. Who am I to judge what a lady likes to do in her free time?”

“Nate isn’t a lifeguard. He’s our safeguard. His job is to ensure nothing goes wrong. And it won’t, because I control the dose, the environment, and the way out, if we need one.”

“Rule number eight,” Nate said. “Don’t do reckless shit unless you can buy your way out. Isn’t that right, Nell?”

She didn’t answer him, instead opting to jab the end of her heel into his shins under the table.

“Oww!” he yelped.

Sarah gave a dry laugh. “Your version of letting go feels awfully controlled.” She ran her fingers through her hair, looking around. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Nell. I’msomeone’s mom. I can’t be casually doing Molly on a weekend like it’s Pilates or something.”

Nell draped her arm over the back of the couch and turned toward Sarah, tucking one leg under her. “It’s not about what you can or can’t do,” she said, her voice low and direct. “It’s about what youwantto do.”

Sarah studied her for a long moment, and Nell could feel it—the tug-of-war happening behind those swirling eyes as Sarah’s morality squared off against her desire, discipline versus curiosity.

She filled with delight as Sarah leaned forward and plucked one of the clear, unassuming capsules from the tin. The white powder inside shimmered faintly in the booth’s subtle lighting as she turned the capsule over between her fingers like a pearl.

Sarah looked at Nell, her mouth curling at one corner. “You know what? Fuck it,” she said, tossing the capsule into her mouth and swallowing it dry. “For once, I want to do something risky.”

Nell picked up the remaining capsule and followed suit. “Excellent,” she said, loud enough for Sarah to hear over the music as they leaned back into the cushions, waiting for the shift in their senses to begin.

The music had changed somewhere in the passing minutes that followed. The bass felt funny in her chest, like it was coming from inside her and all around her at once. She turned to Sarah, checking in on her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, I think? I keep having these waves of feeling overwhelmed and like I’ve just done something stupid.”

Nell propped her head on her hand as she watched Sarah’s mouth form words, creating pleasing shapes with each new syllable.

“That’ll be the come-up. It’ll pass,” Nate said, getting up and walking toward the entrance of their booth. “Give it a few more minutes.”

Sarah leaned back into the couch and took a sip of her water. Nell reached out to trace her fingers along the exposed skin of Sarah’s thigh, suddenly filled with the overwhelming need to feel her.

No.She stopped herself.

Focus. Don’t detach. Not yet.

But it was no use. Nell felt fluid, like liquid, the haze of her altered state melting all the sharpness she used to keep people away.