Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“Than V?” Payden pauses, a look of confusion painting his face. “Sure. I’ve got oxy if you wan—”
“Yeah, I’ll try oxy.”
His features darken. “I was gonna say ‘if you want to kill yourself.’ I don’t sell oxy to students, and I’m definitely not gonna sell it to your lightweight ass.”
“You’re exaggerating.” I pull my hair into a tight bun, my scalp screaming with pain.
“Nuh-uh. You’re fast approaching tweaker zone, and those assholes tend to die and get their dealers into all kinds of trouble.” He runs a hand through his sandy hair. “Look, I know you’re good for the money, but you ain’t worth the risk.” His eyes lick me from head to toe appreciatively. “Sure you don’t want a repeat of our night of passion, for old time’s sake?”
I’m too polite to tell him his lovemaking skills match those of a dead hedgehog. “Positive. Give me ten of the Vicodin and go on your merry way.”
“Ten? Bailey…”
“Payden.” I arch my eyebrows pointedly, stretching my palm open in front of him. When he remains a pillar of salt, I seize my wallet from a drawer and pull out a wad of cash, fanning it like a magician doing card tricks.
He swallows. “Dude, this is no longer recreational. You’re getting a dependency.”
“Dependency? Don’t be ridiculous. I know WebMD like the palm of my hand. I just need to finish this semester. I can handle it.”
He says nothing.
“Since when do you care about me?”
“I don’t,” he says dispassionately. “I care about me. My ass is too talented, young, and hot to end up in jail. You know what they do to people like me there?” He frames his face with his fingers.
Avoid them, because you’re a horribly annoying human?
“I’ll be fine, Pay.”
Ultimately, his survival instinct trumps his pesky conscience and he sighs, taking the money. He shoves the bag of pills to my chest, raising his finger in warning. “Shit, dude. You’re my steadiest client on campus. Didn’t see that one coming.”
Didn’t see me coming, either. Seriously, why did I ever think sleeping with him was a good idea?
“Thanks so much. Enjoy your night.” I jerk my chin to the door. Which is literally less than a step away from him. “See ya around.”
He shakes his head. “You’re one messed-up chick, Followhill. I’m glad we never got together seriously.”
Feeling’s mutual.
I push him out of my room, though he takes his time looking around, loitering, hoping I’ll change my mind about a hookup. “Done anything to your room? It looks different…”
“Payden!” I chide. “Get out before I tase you.”
After the door shuts, I hop on my bunk bed with the bag of Vicodin pinched between my fingers and take a slow, steadying breath. I could take one and wait for it to kick in, facing more pain and anxiety…or I could take two and get knocked right to sleep. I’ll be able to wake up tomorrow ready to conquer the world. Kill it onstage. Get perfect grades. Payden is wrong. I’m not an addict. I’m just trying to save my career like every other dancer out here. And…maybe forget about how cold, isolating, and unfriendly New York is.
Sliding two pills into my open palm, I knock them back with some water. After twenty minutes of pacing and pretzeling from the pain, I take a third one. Finally, it kicks in. I let my body sink down onto my bed. Only it feels like I’m soaked into the mattress. My head drowning in the pillow.
I’m falling…
Plunging…
Plummeting to a place deep and dark where light can’t break through.
A place where dreams go to die.
I wake up groggy and shivering.
It’s not supposed to be this cold in here. The heater is on full blast, and I’m wearing Daria’s oversized Valentino sweater. Last time I felt this cold was when I got mugged this November and the prick forced me to strip down to my underwear so he could steal Daria’s Vivienne Westwood ivory silk dress. An incident I conveniently forgot to tell my parents about so they wouldn’t freak out. I check my Apple Watch. It’s only been twenty minutes since I fell asleep, yet I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. My breathing is labored, and my arms feel like they’re nailed to the bed. Good news is I can’t feel the pain in my legs. Bad news is I can’t feel my legs, like, at all.
I’ve been to enough D.A.R.E. classes to recognize the signs of an overdose. A violent shudder tears through my flesh. I throw a heavy hand down on the carpet, where my phone is charging. My balance is so off, I twist out of the bed, falling to the floor. I can’t move. I can’t stand up. Holy crap, what do I do?
Somehow, my fingers curl around my phone. I yank it off the charger and aim the screen at my face, shaking, sweating, panicking. A lifetime passes before it unlocks. I think about calling Katia, then realize I can’t afford to waste my one call on someone untrustworthy. Instead, I punch the first name I call when I’m in trouble. Or that I would call if I ever got into trouble. Doesn’t matter that things have been weird between us. Doesn’t matter that I yanked his heart out of his chest, put it in a blender, and set the speed on x4. Doesn’t matter that he pretty much hates me.