Chapter Twenty-Eight

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Two weeks earlier...

I stumble into the bathroom, each stall and urinal a haze as I try to cross the room without falling over. The pounding music, faint behind the closed door, can still be heard through the thin walls. I lean forward against the wall while I relieve myself, seeking support from anything to keep from falling over.

Just as I'm washing my hands, the bathroom door swings open, allowing a wave of loud music to seep inside. I turn on instinct, and then blink to try and clear my vision. Surely – fucking surely – I'm hallucinating.But the newcomer breaks into a wide grin when he sees me.

"Well, if it isn't Justin fucking Bieber," he booms. "How ya been, man?"

His long hair is tied into a tight ponytail, his shirt sleeves shoved up high on his elbows. His entire face and the brim of his shirt collar is coated in a light sheen of sweat.

He stops at the sink and splashes water on his face. We eye each other through the mirrors; I instantly get the urge to deck him, a feeling fueled by the copious amount of alcohol in my system.

"I'm fine, Nolan," I answer curtly. I don't bother asking him how he is – I don't care.

"I don't see you here often," he goes on. "Out for some tail?"

God, he's so fucking annoying. I dry my hands with some paper towels, preparing to leave, and ignore him. I can feel my face heating already.

He just keeps fucking talking, as if we're friends, purposefully egging me on. "I doubt you'll have much luck here, dude. There's nothing but little Virgin Marys out there. In fact, I just saw an ex of mine. She wouldn't put out after three fucking months." He shakes his head in disdain, and I roll my eyes. Is it really any surprise a girl won't put out for him? I instantly feel sorry for her for having to ward off his advances.

"Maybe it's you and not the girl," I spitefully observe. My words slur a bit more than I would like. "I've never had that problem."

"Oh, you would with this girl, bro. Trust me. I laid it on thick for three months. Addie fucking Richards." He scoffs her name with distate.

"Whatever you say."

"I'll bet you you couldn't land her, bro." I hate the way he refers to me with such ease, as if we've been buddies for years.

We were friends once, just barely, but that's now in the past. That was before I knew what he was capable of.

"Not interested," I mumble, attempting to slide past him. He moves slightly to block my way.

"There's got to be something you want," he insists.

"You know what I want, Nolan," I say, annoyed. I highly doubt he'd ever give in to that – not over a little wager like this.

"Done," he says immediately. My eyes widen, the room spins, and I wonder, again, if I'm hallucinating or dreaming.

Someone clears their throat behind us. We both look towards the stalls and spy a pair of feet beneath one of the doors.

I pull Nolan outside and shut the door. It's a little louder here, but it's dark and offers some privacy.

"What do you mean, 'done'?" I wonder skeptically. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

"Of course I do, man," he answers. "That's how confident I am you can't bag this chick."

"I want you to leave my family alone," I go on, just to clarify. "Max, too. I want you to drop the charges and never speak to me or Max or anyone in my family ever again. Especially Kathleen."

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