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I was just a weirdo.

Because of you,

I’m fully fucking deranged.

“Don’t know what you’re doin’, but me?” I say, pushing off the counter. “Right now, I’m takin’ this wine, this bag of blueberries, these smokes...” I swipe the pack off the counter without looking. “And I’m gettin’ naked, drunk, and maybe cry in my hot tub. ‘Cause, yeah, everything hurts right now.”

He stands there, gaze conflicted,

unsure if he’s tired or turned on.

“Allison. You got punched in the face. You ain’t drinkin’ in the hot tub with a head injury.”

My eyes narrow. “I literally have alcohol in my system right now.” I sidestep him, juggling everything in my arms, and head for the terrace. “Little more won’t be what kills me.”

I fumble with the locks, fighting with the door until it opens, and winter punches me in the face. It’s New York cold, with wind ripping across my mouth, stinging the split in my lip.

Snow’s still falling. It sticks to the edges of the hot tub, melting instantly when it hits the surface of the water.

Steam rises up thick into the cold air, dramatic and moody. I head straight for it, dumping everything on the ledge before stripping down.

One sneaker, then the other.

Socks peeled.

Jeans down.

Crewneck over my head.

Sports bra gone. Panties off. Skin bare and screaming as thirty-degree wind snakes between my legs and crawls across my chest. My nipples go tight, goosebumps racing up my arms as I tie my hair up high and off my shoulders before stepping in, sinking into the steam with a sigh.

The skyline’s wearing December,

the lit-up high-rises wrapped in fog,

snow falling sideways.

I reach for the wine,

already halfway tasting it.

But I find the cork still sealed.

Sonofabitch.

Andrew snatches the bottle up from the ledge and flicks the knife from the corkscrew. “Uh-uh. Lemme break it down for you, angel.”

He slices through the foil, eyes on mine.

“You kiss me like you do?

“Fuck me like you do?

“Bleed for me?

“Then act like you ain’t in this?”

He drives the screw in and twists.


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