Page 29 of The Illicit Play

Just as worthy of suspension as me.

But I let her get away with it.

Why the fuck did I do that?

Hating my weakness, I sat on that bed and deleted her number. And then I deleted Simon’s and Nico’s and every other contact I’d made in Chicago.

My chest was heaving by the time I was done. And in that moment, I had no idea Cleo would reach out to me again. Reach out to torture me.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I cross my arms, hunching over myself as the rain picks up and starts to fall in thick, heavy droplets.

That night in the hotel room, all I had left on my phone was my old life… and I couldn’t reach out to anyone on that list.

Because none of them would get it.

I’d burned bridges with my high school besties, and they probably didn’t want to know me anymore.

All that was left was my family. And they couldn’t know. They could never know that their precious angel had become a complete fuckup.

But that’s what I was.

And it’s probably what I’ve always been. I was just really good at hiding it.

“Shit.” I run a hand down my wet face, no doubt smearing my mascara. Who fucking cares.

I’m shaking. My whole body is vibrating with these restless tremors.

“I need a drink,” I mutter.

I want to get rip-roaring wasted so I don’t have to think about this shit anymore.

Fuck, I should never have thrown away my fake ID. It was in a moment of weakness when I was trying to find my old self again. I chopped it up into little pieces, thendropped to my knees on that hotel carpet and cried, instant regret taking me out.

I’m sure as shit regretting it again!

I just need a drink. A distraction. Something to numb this irritation.

The nail polish was supposed to be it, but that was a bust.

I should be grateful to Grady for saving my ass…

And I am.

But now I’m back to feeling like shit over what he’d think if he knew that I’d really done it. I’d taken that polish and had every intention of walking out the door with it.

I didn’t even like that metallic blue. I wasn’t going to wear it.

But it wasn’t about the product. It was about the rush.

And I want that rush again.

Iburnfor it.

Crossing my arms, I stalk the streets of Nolan, not ready to head back to Football Frat but not knowing where else to go. I wander through the campus, my clothes getting more and more soaked as I check out the buildings and feel a small spark of interest. But it’s quickly dimmed when I imagine the mind-numbing shittiness of becoming a study nerd again. I had no life. None.

And any kind of thrill?

I had no idea what that even was.