Page 31 of False Start

“I have feelings,” I snip back just as she lets my face go. She’s still staring down at me, and it’s overwhelming. I can’t look away—I don’t think I’msupposedto look away. “Sorry if you don’t want to be reminded of that.”

She lets out a humored exhale. “What happened to your head?”

I haven’t told any of them yet, but for some reason, I tell her. “I hit a tree with my car.”

She seems satisfied by the undetailed answer. “Looks bad.”

“I’m lucky to be alive.” I say the words for the first time since waking up from the coma, the same words countless doctors told me while I spent weeks recovering.

“I don’t pity you,” she clarifies.

“Wasn’t asking for pity.” I take a long, stuttered breath. “How did Lonnie die?”

It’s like I’ve been holding in the question just for her. Maybe because asking the others feels a little like burrowing a knife slowly into someone I love, maybe because digging that knife into Harvey doesn’t cause as much guilt, or maybe it’s because I know that, despite how she feels about me, we both felt the same about Lonnie.

“Cancer.” The word is heavy, and it begs no apologies as it falls from hertongue.

Lonnie deserved more than cancer. I can’t fathom the image of them, worn and weathered, frail, dying of weakness. Lonnie was the epitome of unfaltering strength, a well of reserves for anyone who needed to draw from them. Lonnie was a goddamn Valkyrie, too battle-hardened to die from a sickness.

I forbid anymore tears from forming.

My final Roxy does the trick as it makes its way through my system, muting the sensation of the world around me and making everything just a little more tolerable. We don’t speak for a few moments. We just stare, as if it somehow makes any of this more digestible.

“Is this a problem?” she asks, her gaze shifting to the plastic bag in the trash can.

“No,” I lie, looking past her. “Why would you even care?”

“I don’t,” Harvey says without hesitation.

“Are you gonna let me go?” I’m quiet again. I don’t mean to be, but I am.

“I’m not stopping you, princess. Just came to use the bathroom.” She smirks.

Liar.

But I walk around her, only slightly disappointed when she lets me past her without incident. The party’s fizzled once I’m out of the bathroom. D and her husband are nowhere to be found, which can only mean they’re safely tucked in bed. Nancy and Bae are sharing the couch, and Electric is long asleep on the floor.

Everyone else is gone.

I fidget nervously for a few moments, deciding whether I’m going to find my own little corner to pass out in, or if I’m going to bother K and ask for a ride home. Though the latter is the more comfortable option, there’s no way inhell I’m going to make myself that much of a burden, no matterhowclose I feel to them.

The sound of the door clicking behind me makes me wince, because I know exactly who’s standing there. “Do you need a ride?” she asks.

I shake my head, not bothering to turn around to face her.

Her tone is irritated but her words contradict. “Come on. Let’s go.” She doesn’t beg, and she doesn’t look back to see if I’m following.

I know the invitation is only good for so long, and as much as I don’t want to come back here tomorrow for my car, I want to sleep snuggly in my own bed before the bout tomorrow. Tonight.

Staying up this late fucks with my brain, with my logic.

Nothing good happens this late, everybody knows that.

Even my enemies are acting suspicious.

I follow, grabbing my shoes off the ground and scurrying toward the door behind her.

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