The way he looks in the light? No. That’s not it.
Hyyerr. I need another hit. I hate the way it feels inside my head.
“I’m not okay, I promise.” I smile through the smoke. Nick laughs. I laugh too. It’s funny even if I wasn’t joking.
Hump de bump. The bass hammers out. I like the way the sound gets stuck in Nick’s basement, the way it bounces around the room, spinning colors in my head.
Chelsea and Dean hum hallelujah as their lips connect. My head hurts like that time before.
Should we call the hospital again? No. I don’t want to stop looking at him. I like his shine.
What you waiting for? I’ve heard it a million times before. That little pixie’s in my ear again, singing silly things. Singing lies.
His eyes are like a holiday in Spain, hazy and filled with fire. I like the way he burns, reckless and abandoned.
I hate how he can disarm me. I hate that he doesn’t even know it.
I’ll chalk it up to bad education. I’ll blame my father, the voices. Anyone but me.