Gluttony

Because she was so intently focused on Adam-the comforting pressure of his body, the soft, snuffling sounds he made as he slept, the tickle of his hot breath on her neck-she didn’t hear the door inch open, or the footsteps creep toward the bed. And because she had her eyes closed, she didn’t see the figure standing over her, fists clenched.

But she smelled him. Stale coffee, cigarettes, motor oil, and the faint sweetness of fresh-grown marijuana. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, hoping he would believe the pose and go away, so she wouldn’t have to face him-not like this.

“Is this a fucking joke?” he growled loudly.

Adam jerked awake and stared groggily at the intruder. Beth opened her eyes and sat up, wondering how much he knew, and how much she would have the courage to tell him.

“We fell asleep,” she lied. “But nothing happened. Adam was just-”

“You think I give a shit what you do with him?” Reed’s voice, usually so warm and slow, pelted her like hail, rapid and unforgiving. “You can screw every guy in town, for all I care. You can fucking die, for all I care.”

And she knew that he knew.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Adam said, about to stand up. Beth put a hand on his back.

“Let me,” she told him. This was her battle to lose. “Reed…” Her voice sounded strangled. Which is how she felt. “I wanted to tell you myself-”

“I comforted you,” he spit out, looking disgusted. “I touched you, I held you, I let myself-” He sagged against the wall and wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, as if to wipe the memory of her off his lips.

“How did you find out?” she asked in a whisper.

Harper stepped through the open door. “I told him.” She glared smugly at Adam. Beth didn’t turn to see his reaction. She didn’t care about anything right now but making Reed understand.

“It was an accident,” she told him, the tears returning even though she thought she’d wept herself dry. “It was a mistake. I should have told you. I know. But…”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because I thought you’d hate me!” she cried.

“You were right.”

“Reed…” Beth lunged toward him, then, pulling him toward her, wrapped her arms around him and clutched his worn cotton T-shirt in tight fists so he couldn’t escape. She expected him to push her away, but he didn’t move, just stood there in her embrace, his arms at his sides, his head staring straight ahead over her shoulder, motionless, like a mannequin. She glanced over at Harper, hating to do this in front of her. But she had no choice. “Up on the roof, I only ran away because-because I was afraid of this. I told you! I told you I didn’t deserve you, that you didn’t really know me…”

“So this is my fault for not believing you?”

“No! No, that’s not what I mean.” She clutched him tighter and closed her eyes again, trying to memorize everything about his body, knowing this might be her last chance. “I just don’t want you to think that I was… I wanted to stay with you. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I wanted to tell you…” She lowered her voice so that only he would hear. “I’m in love with you, too.”

There was no answer.

“Reed? Did you hear me? I love you. And maybe we can find a way-”

He didn’t push her away, or touch her at all, but somehow he stepped out of the embrace, so quickly that Beth found herself holding empty air.

“You make me sick.” His voice was hoarse and expressionless. “There’s no way. There’s nothing.”

“But after everything we-”

“Don’t you get it? There is no we. None of it happened-none of it was real. It was all a lie.”

“It wasn’t! You have to believe me,” she begged, “it was all real. And everything I said was true, except-”

“You’re a liar,” he said flatly. “You’re a killer. You… you took her away from me, and then thought you could just replace her? You’re psychotic.”

“I love you,” she told him again, this time loud and clear. She knew now that it didn’t matter, that he was already gone, but she needed to say the words. She needed them to hang in the air so that there was at least some record of the last good thing in her life, before it faded away.

“I don’t even know you,” he shot back. “I don’t want to.” He pressed his hand over his eyes and hunched forward, as if he were struck by a sudden sharp pain. Beth moved toward him again, but Harper was quicker. She materialized by his side; he took her hand.

Beth felt like her own hand had been dipped in acid.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, the words now sounding meaningless even to her.

“Save it,” Harper sneered, leading Reed to the door. She was no longer holding his hand; now her arm was loosely wrapped around his waist. Beth didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t help herself. “No one wants to hear your lame apologies.” Harper paused in the doorway and glared once again at Adam. “Some things are unforgivable.”

Chapter 11

Sex on the Beach.

Tequila Sunrise.

Alabama Slammer.

Cosmopolitan.

Appletini.

Mojito.

Kamikaze.

The city was drowning in cocktails, and Harper planned to try them all. The world tipped and turned, spun and sloshed, and she poured another drink down her throat, and another. She drenched her doubts in tequila, showered her guilt with vodka, poured Captain Morgan rum all over the flames that still burst out of a crumpled car, washed Kaia’s wounds in a bath of gin.

Harper wobbled down the Strip, a yard-long margarita in one hand, emptiness in the other. She sucked on the straw. One gulp for Adam, who would never choose her. One for Miranda, who now understood the pain of truth. And the rest for Kaia, who’d left her behind to face it all, alone.

She wobbled. She stumbled. She fell, into the arms of a stranger. His hands were strong, his face gentle, familiar.

“Watch out,” he told her, and she’d heard his voice on the radio, she’d seen his eyes on a billboard. She’d longed for this opportunity-in what seemed like another life. “Too much to drink?” the famous addict asked her.

Too much would never be enough.

“No such thing,” she mumbled.

“Can I help?”

Front-row tickets, Harper wanted to say. Backstage passes. For me and my best friends.

Twenty-four hours ago, it was all she’d wanted. Now she just wanted him to leave her alone. She wanted to forget. She wanted to black out the world.