Page 62 of Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

Liar.

I’ve resisted the urge to knock on her door. I attended the press conference without her, making sure to review the email she sent me this morning with answers to potential questions. That’s the type of workaholic she is, sending me shit to stay on top of everything.

Agitated with myself and my stupid pacing, I knock on her door. My heart threatens to escape my chest as I wait for her. Minutes pass and the ache in my chest fails to lessen.

I knock again, wanting to make sure Elena is alive and not choking on her vomit or something. For some reason, PR rep dying by her own throw up while her roommate waits outside sounds like a terrible headline. She’d want me to check on her for that potential reputation killer alone.

After another minute of silence, I place my forehead against the door. “Elena, are you alive in there? I’m not exactly concerned, but your radio silence is unusual.” Okay, I’m slightly concerned, but what the fucking ever.

“I’m not feeling well. Can you not go out or do anything that can get you in trouble today? I know the parties are crazy fun and everything, but I don’t want to deal with any repercussions tomorrow.”

A cold feeling spreads through my chest at her off-sounding voice. “Do you need medicine or some shit?” I can’t believe I’m talking to a door at the moment, practically begging for Elena to open up.

This is unbelievable of me. I should leave, but my feet stay planted to the carpet.

“No.”

“Is this because of lady problems?” God, I’m turning into a fucking pussy today.

“No. God no. Go hang with your friends without getting drunk please.” Her hoarse laugh doesn’t ease my budding worry.

I hate her forced laugh. It’s not her usual. Fuck it’s not even her sarcastic one she saves for when I’m a total arse.

I step away from her door, heeding her advice. Liam answers my texts and tells me to come on over to his hotel.

In the car, I can’t stop fidgeting in my seat, wondering if Elena needs something to feel better. I ask the driver to turn around and stop at the nearest pharmacy.

I reason with myself while standing like an idiot in the women’s hygiene aisle. I’m purely doing this because I need Elena to help me with my reputation. Nothing more, nothing less. Emphasis on the nothing more.

I’m lost as I stare at the different products, all advertis

ing shit about heavy flows and anti-pesticide products. Bloody hell. I thank God for not being a woman at this moment. Who the fuck wants to worry about chemicals shoved up their vag?

I dial my mum. “Hey, quick question. What do women prefer for their time of the month? There’s a bunch of shit labeled pads or tampons and I can’t fathom why a woman wants to insert something looking like a cardboard bullet into her body.”

My mum laughs for a solid thirty seconds into her phone. “Please tell me why my son is shopping for sanitary wipes on a Wednesday.”

I groan as I lean against a shelf. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Elena’s acting weird as fuck and I thought it might be her period.”

“So, you went to the local drugstore for her?”

“Yes.”

“Did she ask for anything in particular?”

“No. She told me to go hang out with my friends.”

“Yet you’re calling me from the store? That doesn’t sound like your usual type of hanging out.”

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?”

Mum chuckles. “Nope. I’ll have fun reaching my own conclusions! I’m impressed with how she’s worked quite some magic on you in such a short amount of time. I thought she’d take half a year, at least.”

“This is nothing but a kind roommate thing to do.”

“Because you’re an advocate for kindness all of a sudden?” My mum’s snort makes me smile.

“Okay, fine. She helps me with a bunch of shit so I feel bad. I’ve been going slightly crazy since she’s been holed up in her room all day.”