Page 18 of Make Me Bleed

“Good. I’ll be back then?” she poses it like a question, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, and I nod as I drag a hand down my stomach, drawing her focus there.

“Yes. Thank you,” I add after she turns her back, and she throws her hand in the air in a half-wave.

“Whatever, Peris. I just want to get drunk.” That makes me laugh.

Oh, you have no fucking idea.

“Motherfucker…”

I wake, flushed from head to toe with sweat covering every inch of my skin, and I’m burningup.

“Mmph.”

“Wha…” I’m not sure how I manage it, but I crack open an eyelid and peer to my right, finding a body pressed against me. Dark hair is splayed across the pillows and tickling my face. I brush it away with a snort, which makes Skylar groan.

“Shut up,” I groan myself, the sound piercing my brain and making it pulse heavily.

“You shut up. My head’s killing me.”

“You’re telling me,” I complain, pushing her away from me as I roll onto my back, feeling like I can finally breathe. She grunts at the impact, but scoots over as well, and finally gets her damn hair out of my face.

It’s then I look down and notice we’re both naked. As fuck.

“Jesus,” I complain loudly, letting my head fall back on the pillow heavily. It jostles Skylar just enough that she weakly reaches over to shove me in a pathetic attempt.

“Stop. Talking.”

“Get out of my bed,” I tell her bluntly, needing to be alone. I don’t know what happened, and I can’t process that.

“Are you kidding me?” she asks sharply as she shoots into a sitting position, seeming to forget her hangover.

“No. And you know I’m not.” I drag my palm down my face and leave it there, refusing to meet her gaze. I feel her eyes on my face.

“What the fuck, Peris? After last night…” She trails off, and I sigh. This is what I was afraid of.

“Look, Sky…”

“Don’t ‘Sky’ me,” she quips.

“Okay, fine,” I acquiesce, my words coming out slightly muffled under my palm. “You know who I am and how this works. Last night—whatever it was—doesn’t change shit. I want to be alone, so I’d like you to leave now. Thank you…” I let out awkwardly, unsure if that’s the right thing to say, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Thank you?” she squeaks, and I curl my lips inward.

So, it was the wrong thing. Got it.

“Fuckingthank you!Wow. You’re a prick.”

“You already knew that, babe,” I tell her easily as she jostles the bed, working her way out to get dressed. I don’t bother looking—I’m not interested. Instead, I wait until I hear the inevitable slam of the door, and when it resounds through the house—twice—I let myself fall back into a fitful slumber, seeming to dream of steely gray eyes and flashes of pink that haunt me like ghosts from the past.

“You’re lookinga little green there, Baxter. Thought I told you to get some rest. Drink some fuckingwater?”

“What I drink is none of your goddamn business, bitch.”

“Yep, hungover,” Jordan says over his shoulder, and I see Gabriel nod his head like he already knew the answer.

“Since when the hell did you and my best friend get so…” I trail off, trying to find the right word in my muddled mind. This fucking suit is stiff and itchy, and it’s driving me nuts.

“So… so… what?” Jordan’s dark brow is raised in the seat beside me, and I want to punch it off his fucking face. Which makes no sense, but I don’t care.