Chapter 6

When the booze started hitting you hard, I played out the last of my money and half-carried you to the car. In the dark parking lot, you leaned against me, your body burning alongside mine. You breathed fire, and my blood felt like kerosene. Every little touch threatened to set me aflame.

I remember thinking to myself, Annaleigh gets this? It isn’t fair. You were mine first. You’d always be mine.

Back at your place, I helped you inside and up the stairs. In your bedroom, you fell face first onto the bed and I had to struggle to undress you. Just like Myrtle Beach. Shoes first, then socks, then pants—rolled you over so I could unzip them, tried to ignore the erection pressing against my fingers as I did so, then yanked them down your skinny legs until they pooled on the floor at the foot of the bed. Leaning over you, I began to unbutton your shirt. You blinked slowly, watching me, one hand resting on my arm, the other tossed carelessly onto the bed.