Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 82

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My mind is sharpened enough by the cool air to figure out which way is south.

It's past three. Shade's going to be livid to find me at his door.

I texted my brother from my watch, telling him that I'd be at his apartment in twenty minutes.

He responded with a wtf.

I don't have my phone to request an Uber. I have no money to pay for a taxi if one happens to come along. I'm too disgusted to text Maven from my watch. I'm too drunk to come up with a better plan.

The other side of the fence led to another cute, modern patio. An unlocked door took me to a living room that was thankfully empty, and another door took me to a street corner.

It didn't take any time at all to stumble down into a subway station, half a block from five cop cars, flashing their red and blue lights. It was harder than usual to hop over the turnstile.

The train station wasn't empty. A few other young people, also evidently intoxicated, waited along the tracks. Nobody bothered me.

The five-block walk afterwards was cold. It was also uneventful, save for a few near-trips over uneven sidewalks. My stomach's had it. I thought about stopping, but couldn't find a drug store or a trash can suitable to vomit in.

I start down the stairwell that goes to Shade's apartment.

At the bottom, just outside the door in the deepest of shadows, stands Diana Farley in her signature Brooklyn sweatshirt. The hood's drawn up. I don't bother asking why Shade isn't here.

"Girl," she drawls. It's somewhere between amusement and concern.

At least she doesn't yell.

"I need to throw up," I mutter to her.

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"See, Mare," Farley continues over the island counter, cracking another egg into a frying pan, "this is why you have to play a sport in high school. Like I did. You won't have time for this loser partying crap."

Swathed in a pair of her sweatpants and sweatshirt, I stare at her blankly from the couch. Farley already dimmed the lights, gave me a thick blanket to wrap around myself, and ordered me to start drinking water.

I don't bother to tell Farley that I dropped out of high school or am a professional dancer.

She would tell me that dance isn't a real sport.

"Why were you out, anyway? Don't you have class tomorrow?"

I only nod at first before noticing how Farley scowls at me, expecting an actual answer.

"We went to a Weeknd concert."

"And then felt the need to go to an NYU frat party. It's a Tuesday, Mare. Well, Wednesday now. You aren't possibly going to class today."

I angle my face away so that Farley doesn't see the lone tear that falls down my cheek. Everything that I drank has since left my body, making for a gaping pit of anxiety and regret in the bottom of my stomach.

"Speak, girl. Or I'm not making these eggs."

I ignore Farley.

I can't blame Maven anymore than I can blame myself, really. We both drank, both wanted to go to the party. I kissed him first, told him what I wanted. I took off my shirt.