Sway

Sway by Amy Matayo Read Free Book Online

Book: Sway by Amy Matayo Read Free Book Online
Authors: Amy Matayo
Tags: Fiction
her stricken expression, I do what a true gentleman would do. I keep going. “Know what else? I’ve changed your sheets twice. Not easy to do when you can’t find the extra sheets and dead, drunk weight is lying in the middle of the flippin’ bed!”
    I’m breathing hard. And now that I’ve gotten it all out, I feel like crap.
    When her lip quivers and she slides to floor, I feel worse. Like crap stuck to the bottom of a shoe. She buries her head in her hands. Her blonde hair that once felt so silky between my fingers is now the most disgusting mass of yuck I’ve ever seen, but I don’t have the heart to tell her.
    “How I was drunk? I only had one beer, and I don’t even remember finishing it. I’ve never been drunk a day in my life. Last night was the first time I’d ever even been to a bar!” Despair makes her voice crack, and she sniffs behind her fingers. I lower myself to the edge of the sofa and prop my elbows on my knees, feeling the hardness of my anger dissolve beneath me. I never should have yelled at her. After the night she’d had—the girl could have been raped, for heaven’s sake—it was a worthless thing to do.
    Scott’s mantra comes to my mind in a clarifying rush. Acting on the moment might feel good at first, but guilt always follows right behind it. He’s talking about sex, drugs, violence and a bunch of other shameful sins, and I’ve made fun of him a dozen times for saying it, but he’s right. It definitely applies here. Remorse weighs heavy on my shoulders, and I breathe a little prayer. I don’t think she’ll take this well.
    “You weren’t drunk. You were drugged.”
    Her head shoots up, pink tearstained cheeks puffed out in shock. “Drugged? By who?” But realization darkens her features the moment she asks. “The guy I was talking to? But how could he do it without me noticing? I never left the table.”
    I tell her everything I know, from the moment I walked out of the bathroom to find her sloshing her drink, to her confusion, to the way her body slumped sideways onto the table. When I get to the part about the guy leading her out of the bar, about witnessing the little white pill spilling from his pocket and tumbling to the ground, she visibly pales. When I tell her about the fight, about dragging her limp form out of his car and collecting the purse he tossed out of his rapidly disappearing window, I start to look around for a bucket. If this girl loses it again, I’m going to be prepared. But she gains control of herself and starts asking more questions.
    “But how could I not notice? Wouldn’t I have seen the pill in my glass? Wouldn’t I notice the taste?”
    I shake my head. “All it takes is a second. If you turned your head to look for your friends or got so enthralled by what he was saying that you didn’t see his hand move toward your glass…” I shrug. “Plus, it doesn’t taste like anything. That’s why it’s so easy for people to do.”
    Her eyes, now dry, narrow. It isn’t hard to guess what she’s thinking. “You seem to know an awful lot about it. Almost like you’ve used it before, yourself.”
    I can’t help the indignant sniff that chases her accusation. “Let’s just say I’ve had…experience.”
    She backs against the wall. “You know…” Her voice shakes as she says this, and once again she’s afraid of me. A few years ago this wouldn’t bother me. Now, I hate seeing the fear that was once so often lobbed my direction. “I don’t even know who you are. Have we met before? Are you a friend of Lucy’s or Ashley’s or…or…” She tilts her head to study me, staying silent for so long that I grow uncomfortable. I don’t remember my own mother looking at me like this, and just when I start to think about grabbing my clothes and getting the heck out of here, she speaks. “You’re the guy from the bar. The guy who spent most of the night staring at me.”
    I don’t know what I expected to hear, but this isn’t it. I

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