The girl in my bed rolls over and yawns, stretching her thin arms over her head. The covers fall down, revealing her tits and nipples.

Annoyed, I look away and lean out of the window, sucking on my cigarette and blowing smoke out into the chilly morning air.

“Morning,” she calls out from behind me, way too chipper for my darkening mood. “Got any coffee?”

“Ran out,” I say flatly.

“Can I bum a smoke off you?” She wanders up beside me, naked. I wonder if the neighbors across the street get an eyeful. Should I care?

Nah, I don’t give a damn.

“Here.” I pass her the smokes and the lighter. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

I give her a clinical look as she lights up. She’s too skinny. She also looks a bit like Gigi, I think randomly, and cringe.

Ah fuck. That’s not why I picked her last night… is it? Jesus Christ. That’s an asshole move, Rett, and you know it. Even if I didn’t end up fucking her.

And especially since I can’t fucking remember her name. Why did I bring her home? What was I thinking?

Nothing coherent, probably. I was drunk off my ass. Happens a lot lately. I like how it knocks me out afterward. Blackout. No dreams that I can recall.

She blows out smoke and looks at me from kohl-smudged eyes. They’re blue, but much paler than Gigi’s.

And that should be a relief, that she isn’t so similar from closer up, but it only serves to annoy me more. Fuck, what’s wrong with me?

“So, hot stuff.” She smirks at me. “Won’t you offer me breakfast?”

“Fridge is empty.”

Her face scrunches up. “That sucks. Hey, did we fuck last night?”

“No.”

“But I’m naked.”

“You insisted on taking off your clothes. Feel free to put them back on.”

“Whatever.” She snorts and tucks one arm under her tits. “How about a round two?”

God, can’t she take a hint? “I said, we didn’t fuck last night, and I got to be somewhere. Finish your smoke and get out.”

She lifts her penciled brows. “Seriously? You’re kicking me out?”

She’s the first chick I’ve brought home in months, and now I’m starting to think it was a huge fucking mistake.

“Yes,” I tell her calmly. “Get lost.”

“Wow, you’re a jerk.”

I shrug. Not gonna argue about that. “Don’t forget your purse. Not gonna come after you to return it.”

She throws the cigarette out of the window, glares daggers at me and stomps back to the bed, hunting for her clothes. “Well, aren’t you a piece of work? I should’ve listened to the rumors.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, turning away from her bared ass and putting out my burned-out cig in the ashtray I’ve got there. Grabbing the lighter she left on the windowsill, I light up a new smoke. “You should have listened.”

“Joanna told me you like to pounce on girls and take them home for a quick fuck and a kick in the butt.”

I raise my brows. Apart from the fact we didn’t fuck… who the hell is Joanna anyway?

“That you like fucking them against the wall in the back of bars and clubs, like an animal.” She’s on a roll. She kicks at the bed, and I wince on her behalf. “You are an animal, Rett.”

Sure.

And she came with me hoping to experience the thrill?

“Your purse,” I remind her. “And your phone. I’m not opening the door if you come later looking for them.”

“Asshole.”

Yeah, yeah. I know. “Close the door on your way out,” I mutter.

God, I need a drink. It’s too early, but fuck that—only I’m not sure I got anything left over here at home. Damn.

I stare out at the waking city and lick the bitterness of tobacco off my lips.

Good thing I have a shift at the bar later today. Suzie and David, the other bartenders, won’t mind me having a few shots behind the bar.

Yeah, I drink a lot these days.

And since last night, I can’t stop thinking about Gigi. About seeing her, talking to her, about her face, her curves, her voice. Can’t stop imagining her.

How she’d sound, moaning my name.

How she’d look, pinned underneath me.

On her knees, in front of me.

Naked.

Writhing.

Coming on my dick. Jesus. Just thinking about her, I’m getting hard so fast I’m dizzy, and the girl I brought home last night still hasn’t left the room.

I wanted Gigi three years ago, and I want her now.

More than ever.

Three years ago, I’d jack off to fantasies of her, in her short skirt and knee-high socks and wide mouth. But fucking her was an impossibility. She wasn’t my girl, and I wasn’t even sure why she hung around me. I was a mess. For a while there I thought she wanted Sebastian.

But she kept talking to me. Touching me. Driving me insane with need.

Now it’s worse. Now it’s out of the question. Too dangerous for her.

And it’s all I can think about. Not my brother’s safety, nor Mom’s health. Not the rent, or the drugs Sebastian takes.

Gigi.

She appeared out of nowhere once more, taking over my thoughts, a bright spark in the dark. That first time, she vanished just as my world imploded, and that crushed me just as much as everything else that happened back then.

Can’t let her do that again.

Somewhere in the apartment, the front door slams closed. I don’t turn around to see if the girl’s gone. If she took all her goddamn things with her.

If she picked the apartment clean before leaving.

I don’t give a fuck.

Cursing, I push down on my hard-on that’s tenting my briefs and head to the bathroom to shower and throw some clothes on.

I just need to fucking stop thinking about Gigi. Chances are, I won’t see her again, anyway.

If I’m lucky.

* * *

It’s late, after I finish work at the bar, and I take out the key to open the front door of the building when Sebastian walks out of the shadows and flicks away his cigarette.

“What a bust,” he mutters.

Willing my racing heart to slow down, I unlock the door, trying to keep my cool. “What happened?” I enter, tensing as he steps in right behind me. “Girlfriend kicked you out?”

“Fuck you, Fen. And don’t change the topic.”

Passing the bag to my other hand, I press the button for the elevator. “What topic was that?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He shoves me aside when the elevator arrives and steps inside first. “The deal that fell through the other night, are you dense? I needed that fucking money.”

My jaw is clenched so tightly my teeth grind together. “What for?”

“What do you need money for, dickhead?” He punches me in the shoulder, and the force of it sends me into the mirrored wall, my bad knee twinging. “To buy stuff. What did you think?”

“Cool it, Seb.” He’s high, I tell myself, holding my own fists back with difficulty. Don’t punch his motherfucking lights out yet. “You got money, dude. You got paid two weeks ago for that deal you helped with. What did you do with that, spend it all on drugs already?”

“None of your business. That wasn’t enough dough.”

“What the hell do you need it for?”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he mutters as the doors open, and walks out. “Girls, bro. Cars. Good clothes, not these…” He tugs at the lapels of his leather jacket with a sneer. “These cheap pieces of shit. This hellhole of a place. The junk I’m driving.”

“How about a job instead, huh? A real life? You ever thought about that?”

“Shut the fuck up. Just… shut it.” He stands uneasily, nervously, shoulders hunched as I unlock the apartment door. He shoves a hand through his greasy hair. “Open the goddamn door.”

I give him a long look, my hand on the door. He’s sweating. He’s not high, I realize. He’s actually coming down from a damn high, and he looks kinda green around the gills.

Fucking joy.

Pushing the door open, I switch on the lights and throw the keys in the bowl on the kitchen counter. “Make yourself at home. Just don’t puke on the couch, okay?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, but doesn’t sit down, parking his skinny ass against the back of the couch instead.

“I’ll make you something to eat.” I know the routine. Something light to line his stomach. “Meanwhile, here, drink some water.”

“You drink your fucking water. You’re not my mom. Gimme something stronger.”

“No can do.” I turn the tap and fill up a glass. “And your mom would hate to see you like this. Drink this, otherwise you’ll—”

He retches, and I turn just in time to see him throw up green puke all over the back of the couch and the carpet.

Shit. I rub at my face and put the glass down on the counter. “Christ, man. What did you take this time? Please tell me you’re not doing meth.”

“None of your fucking business,” he grunts, braced on the stained back of the couch, hair falling in his face. “And I don’t need your fucking water, or your fucking food. What I need is money.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” I let my hand drop and glare at him. “Go clean yourself up in the bathroom, and I’ll clean up your puke. If you don’t want food, then don’t eat.”

“Fuck, man, I can’t sleep. Haven’t slept in two days.” He pushes off the couch, starts toward me, his steps unsteady, his gaze pleading. “I’ll just borrow the money, okay? Give it right back when I get paid.”

“No, dude. Sit down. I’ll make you something to eat—”

He pushes at me, and I stumble backward, fucking amazed that he managed to catch me off guard twice in one evening.

Goes to show how off my game I am these days, I think, and then my shoulder hits the wall, and I slam my palms on it to steady myself. My fucking bad knee twists, and I grunt in pain.

“Fuck you, Seb.”

“You say you look out for me,” he snarls, shaking his fist at me. “You think you can feed me food and lies and that I’ll suck it the fuck up and say thank you.” He stumbles two steps back and then turns toward the door. “I don’t need this shit, asshole. I don’t need you, okay? You can go to hell for all I care. Stay off my fucking back.”

Jesus Christ. I watch him go, still stunned. Does he think I don’t want to?

If only I could.

* * *

Tangled in my covers, I plunge through darkness, through flashing images and sounds. Something’s about to happen, I know it. My pulse thumps heavily in my ears.

Now, it’s already happening.

A crash.

A collision.

Impact.

I slam into something. My spine rattles. My body jerks.

The car rolls and skids, metal crunching and folding. My head hurts. I’m too cold, then too warm. There’s a fire burning. I can smell it, singeing cloth and flesh.

It hurts. My leg hurts.

I’m so fucking scared I can’t breathe.

When I scream, nobody answers. I’m alone.

Everyone’s dead.