Casually sucking in a breath, I bring the bottle to my mouth and swallow. “I don’t really have one.”
“Okay, and how long are you in NZ for?”
“Only for a couple of months. If that. So please don’t think this is a permanent thing for me. I’d hate to give you the wrong impression.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up slightly. “I’m not really into permanent.”
I run my eyes up and down his body, once again failing to hide my attraction to him, but anytime I think, Okay, I can do this. I can find a man just to have something casual with, Bishop possesses my body and my thoughts. It’s not entirely fair, considering he has probably moved on already, but it’s just not in me to do it yet. It’s too soon.
I halt him with my hand, sensing he was going to go into the dating territory. “Please don’t. Not yet.”
He grins. “I can do not yet.”
Handing him my barely touched beer, I smile at him. “I better go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yup, 9:00 a.m.,” he agrees.
I nod, turn on my heel, and walk out the door. Figuring I’ll walk the rest of the way back to our apartment instead of calling a taxi, I eventually make my way to the main beach. Stepping down the sandy steps, I inhale the thick, salty ocean air and close my eyes, shutting out any noise but the crashing of waves and the crickets chirping within the trees. New Zealand is beautiful; there’s no doubt about that. But I miss being home in the US. I don’t know what’s happening back home. No one has found me, or no one has looked—not sure which of the two is correct.
“You okay?” Tatum comes down the steps and walks to where I’m standing. I take a seat on the sand and draw my knees up, my hair falling over my shoulders.
“Not really.”
Tate plops down beside me, her long coat wrapped tightly around her body.
“Are you wearing clothes under that?”
“What?” She bats her eyelashes innocently. “Of course I am! And also….” She pulls out a bottle of whiskey and what I’m pretty sure is a joint. “Tada!”
I shake my head and laugh. “You’re a hot mess, you know that?”
“I know,” she sighs, resting her head on my shoulder. “Be a hot mess with me?”
I swallow, looking out to the dark ocean, wondering what lies are on the other side of what seems to be an endless bank of water. “Yeah, I think I’m ready to be just that.”
The thoughts of Bishop and my dad have been eating away at me ever since I left the US. Maybe the reason why it’s not affecting Tatum so much is because she’s always high or drunk—or having sex. Although I’m not ready for the sex part—and I don’t even know why, because it’s not like Bishop and I were together—I still feel like I’m betraying him. Why the fuck should I care if I’m betraying him though? He betrayed me! He lied, cheated, manipulated, and killed someone. He’s exactly—
“Make it stop, Tate,” I whisper through fresh tears as my throat clogs. A single tear trickles over my cheek and Tatum catches it with her index finger. She then grips my chin, turning me to face her. She searches my eyes, and for a second, she seems stone-cold sober. “We will make it stop together, Mads.”
Swallowing, I nod and take the joint from her. Lighting it up, I put it between my lips and inhale deeply until my lungs catch on fire and my throat turns to stone. Blowing out the smoke, a sputter of coughs come out of me, so I snatch the whiskey from her hand while passing her the joint. After twisting the cap, I bang on my chest and then put the tip to my lips and swallow, allowing the burning of the cheap whiskey to coat my already parched throat.
Tatum falls onto her back with the joint tucked between her lips and I lay back with her, the stars swimming in the dark abyss of the sphere, a bottle of whiskey between my fingers, and my hair sprawled out over the sand.
“Do you think he ever cared, Tate?” I whisper, tilting my head and lining up the southern cross that hangs brightly in the sky.
“Bishop? No. Nate? Yes.” She coughs loudly, banging on her chest. I sit up, taking a drink until the burning turns my throat numb and my head throbs with intoxication. Tatum passes me the joint. “Sorry, Mads. I just don’t think he did. But I wouldn’t take it personally. He doesn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything.” I toke on the ganja, this time holding it in longer to intensify my buzz, and then blow it out slowly.
“Why the fuck can’t I bring myself to get laid.”
“That will come, babe. I said he didn’t care. I’m well aware that you did.”
“I’m stupid.”
“No.” Tatum shakes her head, handing me the whiskey. “No, you’re not. You’re Madison Montgomery, and you’re a fucking boss-ass bitch who feels, Mads. That’s a big deal. More people should feel.”
“Felt,” I whisper, my tears now dry. “They used me as their puppet. Now I’m broken.”
“Broken but hot, and who, by the way, has found a hot tattoo artist!”
I laugh, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth. “He is a bit hot, huh?”
“A bit?” Tatum looks offended. “Honey, he will do you fine until our next stop.”
“Have you decided where we’re going next?” I slur, my eyes narrowing on her to try to focus.
“Mmmm, Milan?”
“Spain?” I ask, shocked. “What about London? Can we do Bristol?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Just really want to find a hot British guy.”
“To bang, or to complain to me about how you can’t bang?”
I laugh, shoving her shoulder. “Shut up. Come on.” I get up off the sand and pull Tatum with me. Only we both
