“No.” Her fingers brush my forearm. “Sometimes you look entertained.”
I should move my arm.
I don’t.
Her touch feels wrong.
Good.
Maybe wrong is exactly what I need. Maybe I need to remember who I was before Sweet started leaving coffee cups on my counter, a picture of her mama beside my bed, and trust in places I forgot I had.
Trixie leans closer. “You busy?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“Ruining my own life.”
She laughs. “At least you’re self-aware.”
Her hand moves higher.
I let it.
Across the room, Ghoul looks over and his smile disappears. Boogie notices too. Sweeney stops talking long enough to watch.
Good.
Let them.
Let everybody remember who I am before Sweet starts making them think there is something underneath all this worth trusting.
Trixie takes my glass, sips, and sets it back down. “You in a mood.”
“Always.”
“This one feels special.”
“It ain’t.”
“You want company?”
The answer should be easy.
It used to be.
Instead, I see Sweet in the garage saying, I slept with you because you kept giving the choice back.
My stomach turns.
“Not today.”
Trixie studies me. “That new girl got you housebroken?”
My head turns slowly.
“Careful.”