Page 35 of A Perfect World
“I’m okay,” I lied. My eyes unfocused, warmth blooming in my blood as the drugs kicked in.
“Christmas is at Marie’s this year, did she tell you?”
Of course, my sister hadn’t told me. We never spoke unless mom was there. She didn’t see me as a person- to her, I was a monster.
“Pretty sure I’m not welcome.”
“You’re always welcome, honey, we miss you.”
Her words were hot pokers on bare skin. Drugs loosened my tongue.
“I miss you too, mom.”
“Go to the next session, honey.”
I didn’t remember hanging up or if I told her I loved her, because I was soon drifting in a sea of silence.
A repetitive rift from Jack’s guitar roused me from the drug induced nap, followed by a string of unintelligible curses. I checked my phone. It’d been hours since I passed out and an unopened message blinked on the screen.
Courtney: Meet me in the library. I’d like some company.
I laced up my sneakers, grabbed my laptop and entered the living room.
“If I can’t get this shit to sound right, I’m smashing this guitar over Marty’s head,” Jack growled to himself. Buddy had his paws over his ears. Both of them tracked me as I headed for the door. “Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna meet Courtney in the library.”
My best friend grinned and unstrapped his guitar. “Oh, so she didn’t rip out your fancy eyeballs when you told her we were made in test tubes?”
Glancing at the glass of amber liquid on the coffee table, I flashed my eyes, tipping it over.
“I hate you. Like actually fucking despise you,” Jack dead-panned as he watched beer drench his guitar.
“As you can tell by my intact eyeballs, she handled it better than expected.” I shrugged. He wiped his palm down his face. I smirked at the soggy sheets of music. “And might I suggest not working on a song while drinking?”
He pointed at me with a guitar pick. “My best work comes from Drunk Jack.” I raised a brow. He waved his hand at the door. “Gostudy. I’ll pretend not to be royally jealous that you’re getting your dick wet while I struggle through Music Theory and Songwriting.”
Chuckling under my breath, I left him to his endless ranting and crossed the subdued campus. As I walked into the library, I scanned the tables, finding her nestled in the back. Like a streak of moonlight, Courtney’s silvery blond head was bent over her laptop with a pen sticking out the side of her mouth. I set my laptop down on the table, startling her. A beautiful smile beamed up at me.
“Is this seat taken?”
She tapped her pen on her pouty lower lip. “I was saving it for this guy I know.”
“He sounds like an ass for keeping you waiting,” I murmured, curling over her chair from behind and brushing my lips to the shell of her ear.
“Oh, he is to the people he doesn't like, but he can be sweet,” she whispered with a smirk. I grinned back and took the seat next to her, scooting until our legs bumped, then palmed her thigh.
"He can."
“I need to focus,” she warned.
I shrugged, moving my hand an inch higher. Her doe eyes darted to the other students studying a few feet away before returning to me. I inched my hand higher. And higher. Her face shifted from horror to fleeting shock to aroused. When I brushed the apex of her thighs, the tiniest gasp escaped her lips.
“Ollie,” she hissed, “There are people here.”
“Are there?”
“Ollie.”
