Page 75 of Her Sloth

My face hardens. She is so entitled that it makes my toenails curl.

“Oh yeah, and what is that lie?” I say with a sneer.

How I hate the rich!

As if their money can’t buy them any problem solution. And if it’s so bad, why not give it fucking away?

“That becoming rich solves all problems. It fucking doesn’t. It solves the problems you have right now, so you give it your everything to get money. But when you have it, you suddenly have a million other problems.”

I can’t help myself. “Uhhhh, the poor rich girl. So sad people talk about her. At least you can cry in your 80k a night suite while others don’t know how to feed their kids. Really, such a big prob⁠—”

Her fist lands in my face before I can end my sentence.

I retaliate immediately.

She evades it by ducking.

“You—“ I curse out as I go after her again.

But then Nikki steps in between.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nikki says. “We’re all breathing, okay?”

“Nothing is fucking okay!” I shout and aim to get past Nikki

Nikki pushes a hand into my chest. Breathing deep in front of me.

“Breathe with me,” she says calmly and breathes in deep.

“She fucking attacked me!” I roar. “Why are you keeping me in check and not her?”

“Because she knows my point is valid!” shouts Addy. “You measure your problems by your moral code, but the world doesn’t divide in fucking black and white.”

“You’re black and white. She’s like every shade in between. Things aren’t that easy.”

It is then that I remember what Nikki told me about her. About what Addy did. And then I remember what we talked about in the suite. That she can’t get out. The things that must’ve happened in L.A.

Gods, I’m so stupid. Why am I like this? Why does she make me so aggressive that I forget everything I know and just react like a complete idiot?

I take a deep breath in.

Nikki nods and removes herself from between us. She knows I boil fast and think later. It has gotten us in trouble countless times, but Addy…she has a way to get to me in a way no one ever has.

Breathe in and out, I tell myself.

“Why do you trust her?” I ask Addy in a forcefully calm voice, suppressing the anger I still had in me.

“Because she was the one who told me to get out while I can. It was her voice that made me choose to leave.”

“You've known her since childhood? What makes you trust her?”

Addy bites her lip.

“I do, but I can’t tell you why I trust her. It is not my story to tell,” she says.

I don’t ask any further. I value what she just said, because a code means everything to me. The question is, do I trust her enough to believe her judgment?

My blood pressure is still up; she’s still regulating her breathing, so I take a moment to contemplate her.