THE BOUNCER STOPS ME AND THE TRIPLETS at the entrance to Q, looking me over with a dumbstruck expression and a deep frown. “Are you Mia Harlow?” he asks, shaking hands with the triplets.
“I am. Why? Is there a problem?”
I left my fake ID at home, so if that’s what he wants—
“Not at all, I just…” He trails off, shaking his head as if dismissing whatever he wants to say, then presses a finger to his earpiece. “Mia’s here.”
Cody grunts beside me, good mood slipping off his face. “He’s got to be fucking kidding.” He pulls out his phone and taps the screen, jaw locked tight.
“He?” I mutter. “Who?”
“Nico,” Colt supplies, resting his long arm over my shoulders. “Looks like he called security to keep an eye on you.”
“He sure did,” the bouncer admits. “You’ve got the VIP booth upstairs, and Johnny here…” He points at the guy exiting the club, “…will be your shadow all evening.”
“That’s unnecessary—”
“Boss’s order,” Johnny cuts me off. “Don’t worry, you won’t notice I’m around. I blend in very well, and I’m only supposed to ensure you’re not left alone.”
He’s taller than Nico, so no way he can blend in.
“It’s cool, man. I’m not that surprised he called,” Conor tells him, swaying me left to right. “At least he let you come out with us, Bug. That’s big considering he’s like a fucking rottweiler around you. Come on, I’ll make your head spin.”
“Next time, we won’t tell you where we’re taking her,” Cody snaps into the phone, his tone dripping with irritation. “We’ve been taking her out for months, and nothing ever happened!”
Conor pushes me gently, urging me to move. “Six is playing in an hour,” he says in my ear, ushering me through the crowd, up the stairs to our booth.
Colt heads for the bar, and once he’s back with a tray of drinks, Cody joins us.
“You need to stand up to him, Mia. He’ll end up controlling every part of your life if you let him get away with this.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Conor chips in. “He let her come out with us, right?”
“Let her?” Cody seethes. “Do you hear yourself? He doesn’t get to let her do anything. She’s not a fucking child.”
It’s like Aisha versus Nico all over again. Only this time, it’s his brothers arguing on my behalf.
“Dance with me,” I blurt out before this escalates.
The truth is, I don’t mind Nico calling security. I wouldn’t even mind if he said I should stay home. I’ve never been a party girl. Much as I enjoy spending time with the triplets, I’d happily do it elsewhere. The arcades, the beach, at home watching movies, or playing piano while Cody plays guitar.
If Nico feels better knowing there’s a bouncer looking out for me, then so be it. It’s not like I plan to do anything he wouldn’t approve of.
“Yeah, alright. Come on.” Cody grabs my hand, taking me downstairs. Johnny follows suit, not blending in. “He’ll dictate everything you do if you let him, Mia,” Cody says, pulling me into his side. “And I mean everything. From where you can go and who you can be friends with to what you can wear. He’s a good guy, but he gets carried away easily. You need to stand up to him.”
We step onto the dancefloor, giving me the perfect opportunity to nip the topic in the bud. I doubt Cody would understand if I told him I find Nico’s controlling personality ridiculously appealing. It draws me in because letting him take the lead makes me feel safe.
I’m his. And he’s mine.
I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere before. Not at home with my absent parents, or my sister, not at school where no one would utter a word in my direction, scared to end up on the wrong side of Jake Grey. The first glimpse of belonging came with the triplets.
And now?
Now I really feel I belong. That being with Nico is where I was supposed to land. That all the years of loneliness finally paid off because they brought me to him.
“My turn,” Colt shouts twenty minutes later, snatching me from Cody’s arms.
There are at least a dozen people in the booth when we go back upstairs after another five songs. The triplets are popular, so whenever we’re out, it’s never just the four of us for long. People flock to them, expecting good times and great friends.
“There, drink that,” Johnny says, placing a lemonade on the table.
“He told you to keep her hydrated, too?” Cody huffs. “Is she allowed to pee unattended, or will you hold the door?”
“Your fight’s with your brother, man. I just work here.” He walks away, taking a stance nearby in case he’s needed.
“Just ignore him,” I tell Cody, running my fingers down his arm. “I don’t mind.”
“You should. I bet you’re not allowed to dance with anyone other than us, Mia. He doesn’t fucking trust you.”
“When have you ever seen me dance with anyone but you?”
“That’s beside the point.”
I slam my glass on the table. “Your annoyance is beside the point. I get you think it’s wrong, but I don’t. That should be enough for you to drop this. I’m not naïve, Cody. I know this isn’t how most boyfriends act, but I also know Nico’s working hard to tone it down.”
He really is. I see the small adjustments he makes, how he checks in when he thinks he’s going overboard.
“And he does trust me,” I continue. “He’s just worried. Whatever your problem with him is, it’s your problem.” I stand up, pointing at the guy sitting beside Colt. I think his name’s Grayson. “Dance with me.”
He cocks an eyebrow, glancing between the triplets like he’s checking it’s okay.
Oh, look at that. I’m not allowed to dance with anyone else without their permission, either.
Seeing no disapproval, Grayson gets to his feet, adjusting his t-shirt in one tug. “Yeah, sure.”
Johnny moves from his post to stand beside me, but doesn’t intervene.
“See? I’m allowed,” I tell Cody, and before he can say anything else I follow Grayson downstairs.
The one thing I overlooked while proving my point is that I now have to dance with a guy I barely know. We squeeze through the crowd on the dancefloor, finding space by the stage where Six is setting up to play his set. For now, “Jungle” by Fred Again blasts through the speakers, and Grayson starts jumping, carried away by the beat.
He takes my hand, spinning me around, then pulls my back flush to his chest. Not even thirty seconds later, there’s a shift in the air, and different hands slide around my middle, holding me firmly so I can’t spin on my heel to check who’s there.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” Brandon purrs in my ear, his voice raising the hairs on my neck. “How’s my pussy… cat?”
“Not yours.” I tilt my head so he can hear me. “Aren’t you bored of getting shot down? Let me go before I get security.”
“I like this game we play.” He slowly moves side to side, disregarding the upbeat rhythm pumping around us. “Ready to give up?”
Johnny’s watching, one eyebrow raised in silent question. I could wave him over, but I’m sure he’d tell Nico I needed help and I am not involving him. He’s overlooking my age but avoids talking about college to the point that he immediately changes the subject whenever the triplets ask me about finals. While Brandon’s game remains nothing but an inconvenience, I’m not telling Nico.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I give up. Save your face. Your plan isn’t working.”
“Not working? So you’re saying you’re not even a little bit scared of what the guys might do?” He spins me around, his warm breath fanning my face. “I find that hard to believe since you kneed Dennis in the balls the other day.”
“He slapped my ass, and only my boyfriend gets to do that. I told you I’m no longer available.”
Brandon trails his fingers down my back, stopping an inch above my ass. “Your boyfriend, huh? How come I’ve never seen you with this guy? He’s imaginary, right?”
“God, no.” I spin around. “He’s very much real.”
Brandon smirks, looking me up and down. “I’ve not fucked you yet, kitten. You can call me God when you’re coming on my dick.” He stares at something over my shoulder. “I’ll bite. Who’s the lucky guy? It sure isn’t Conor unless you don’t mind that he’s currently sticking his tongue down Ann-Marie’s throat. That leaves Cody and Colt. Which one’s getting the money?” He leans closer, both hands on my waist as he sways to the music. “Or is it, Justin?”
“Justin?” I scoff. “He might be a decent guy, but he’s still your friend, Brandon, and anyone who sticks by you can’t have much common sense. Let me go, or—”
“Or what? You’ll knee my balls? I dare you, kitten.” A lick of malice flares his eyes as he grabs my wrist, yanking me closer. “Hit me again, and I’ll stop being so fucking nice.”
His grip tightens, bordering on painful, way past bruising point. This will take some explaining when Nico spots the bruises tomorrow.
The music fades, drowned out by blood whooshing in my ears, panic settling into my gut. This feels too familiar… Q, a guy touching me against my will…
Memories blur reality, diminishing my composure. Brandon’s face morphs into Asher’s and back, over and over, the tighter he holds me.
I can feel myself shaking, but I can’t stay grounded. My head’s too loud. Too chaotic to think straight, to weigh the consequences when I look to the side for help. Johnny’s still there, apparently blending in if Brandon hasn’t noticed him by now.
Our eyes lock, and that’s all he needs.
My pulse soars immediately. Not because of Brandon. Not because Johnny grips his neck, gouging his fingers into his flesh so hard his nails whiten. Not even because Conor is suddenly beside me, shoving me back and nailing Brandon’s face.
It’s because Johnny will report this to Nico, and I’ll have to lie again. If he finds out about the prize, he’ll leave me.
I’m not losing the best thing that happened in my life over Brandon Price’s misogynistic worldview.
“What the fuck?” Brandon booms, thrashing against Johnny’s hold. “Let me go, man! What’s your problem?!”
Two of his buddies jump in to help. One sends a clenched fist to Conor’s stomach, and the other jumps on Johnny’s back, climbing him like a tree.
All hell breaks loose.
Someone shoves me back again, and I slam into a hard chest. The last thing I see before Cody spins me to face him is a glimpse of an enraged Colt charging Brandon. All fire and brimstone as he steers out a punch.
“He put twenty-five grand up for you?!” Cody yells over the surrounding noise. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?!”
“I-I… I’m sorry, I—”
“Save it for later,” he snaps, tucking me against his side as more bouncers and more football players arrive.
Colt hammers his fists into Brandon in a deranged frenzy, paying no attention to his bleeding nose and split eyebrow. Random partygoers jump in, lashing out at everyone in their path, and the brawl gets out of hand within seconds.
“Get her outside!” Johnny yells, pointing to the exit.
Cody grips my wrist, forging a path through the crowd of onlookers. No one in sight is dancing anymore. Everyone stopped to watch twenty men throwing fists.
I double over as soon as we’re outside, pumping crisp evening air into my lungs.
“You gonna puke? Fuck, your bag’s upstairs.”
“I’m okay,” I mutter, leaning against the wall. “Please don’t tell Nico about the prize. Please, promise you—”
“No way! Don’t ask me to keep that a secret.” He steps back, tearing his hair out of his head. “Why didn’t you tell us?! How long has this been going on?!”
“Since the Spring Break party,” I mutter, staring at the ground beneath my feet. I should’ve stayed home… nothing would’ve happened if I’d just stayed home tonight.
Argh, who am I kidding?
The triplets would’ve found out soon enough, and I’d be right where I am now—about to lose the man I love.
Once Nico realizes that on top of all my flaws, I bring a heap of trouble and drama, he’ll question our relationship.
He’ll move on.
I might excite him now, but long term, not much speaks in my favor. In this day of feminism, strong personalities, and confident women who know what they want and how to get it, I’m a freak. An anomaly. Someone to pick on and laugh at.
I’m cautious, weak, and shy. I’m afraid of the dark and nervous around strangers. I’m awkward, insecure, and inexperienced.
Nico deserves a woman who’ll own every room she walks into. Let me in that room, and the only thing I’ll own is the best corner to hide in. He deserves someone who’ll be his equal and challenge him every step of the way.
A woman who’ll make his life exciting but easier. He’s got a lot going on without me adding stupid college drama to the mix.
“Who told you?” I ask, disappointment clutching my heart.
Even if Nico doesn’t point blank cut me loose the moment he finds out, our relationship will expire soon enough.
“Grayson,” Cody snaps. “But it should’ve been you! Jesus, Mia!” He grips my shoulders, pulling me into his arms. “You have any idea what could’ve happened, Bug? You should’ve told us. You should’ve told Nico.”
I shake my head, my breathing shallow as tears threaten to spill. “He’s the last person I want to know about this.”
“Why?” He pushes me away. “He’ll take care of it.”
I step back, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears. “He’ll also realize I bring nothing but problems. He gives me everything I ever wanted, and I… I’m just a phase.”
“You’re not a fucking phase, Mia, he—”
“It’s okay,” I say, my chin quivering. “He was worth the wait, and he’s worth the tears.” I pinch my lips together, forcing a smile. “I’ll get my bag. I’m sure Johnny called him by now, and he’s on his way.”
“Stay here. I’ll get your bag.”
“No, you won’t,” the bouncer manning the door says. “You’re not allowed back in.”
“I wasn’t fighting,” Cody seethes. “She’s not going in there alone, man.”
The bouncer shrugs, stepping aside when Johnny exits the club, holding Brandon and Colt by their collars, and shoves them outside.
Cody shoots forward like a spring, gripping Brandon by his neck. “You’ll call it off. Tonight, you got that?!”
Using a second of their inattention, I get back inside. Johnny’s hauling two more guys out, and another bouncer trails behind Conor, nudging him toward the exit.
The party’s back on track, fight under control. I climb the stairs to find Grayson in the booth with a few friends, my bag safely tucked behind his back. Once I have it, I make a stop in the restroom, needing a moment to gather my thoughts.
Passing two girls in the doorway, I find the restroom empty and a little quieter than the rest of the club. The music never stopped while twenty-odd guys threw punches. It’s still pumping as Six plays his favorite set.
I grip the sink with both hands, looking into my glassy, teary eyes in the mirror.
One day at a time.
That’s what I’ve been telling myself since I kissed Nico. I knew this was too good to last, and I fought not to get too comfortable, not to let my romantic side take the reins and imagine a future I’d never have.
I wipe my cheeks when the door swings inward, flooding the restroom with Six’s take on “I Got 5 on It” which drowns the tornado of thoughts brewing in my head.
For a second, I fail to realize this isn’t a unisex restroom.
I fail to realize these three guys shouldn’t be in here…
It all clicks when my eyes lock with his.
He’s changed a bit since high school: lost weight he never had much of to spare. His skin is ashen, eyes dull, but disdain shines clearly, and a giant cold fist clutches my stomach.
The air shifts immediately. An unrelenting aura of impending doom fills the space when his best friend, Michael, slaps a makeshift Out of order sign on the door before yanking it closed. He stands his ground, barricading the exit with his big body and greeting me with a sly smirk.
I don’t care much about him or Jessie, who scrutinizes me with a hard edge to his narrowed eyes. My focus is on Jake Grey, his steel-gray irises almost completely swallowed by blown pupils, the way he grinds his teeth back and forth, the tremble of his hands…
“Missed me, BJ?” he asks, cracking his neck as he casually leans his hip against the sink.
Cold fear slithers in my gut, the space between us less than five feet. I’ve got no chance, but I snatch my bag off the sink, tugging the zipper.
“Grab her!” Jake booms.
I almost close my hand around the pepper spray. So close, but Jessie rips the bag out of my grasp, tossing it aside, and ties my hands behind my back, his bony fingers hurting my wrists.
Panic kicks in. An unreasoning, nerve-shaking, blood-to-water-turning sort of horror courses through my veins, rendering me momentarily useless.
“Calm down, BJ,” Jake chuckles. “I’m here to help.”
“Help?” I choke, glancing right and left, up and down, assessing my position, the distance to the pepper spray that rolled out of my bag, stopping not far from where Michael’s barricading the door. “Help with what?”
He pulls his phone out, tapping the screen. “I hear Brandon Price is playing games with you. He put a prize up for the first guy who fucks you, correct?” He looks up from the screen, his nostrils flaring. “Correct?!”
I nod, struggling against Jessie’s hold. “Let me go.”
“Not so fast,” Jake tuts, taking a few wobbly steps from the sinks, pointing at the ground before him. “Get her on her knees.”
“N-no,” I stutter. “Please, just—”
“Please, just stop,” Jake mocks, imitating my voice. “Relax, BJ. It’ll be fun. I’ve wanted that pouty mouth of yours wrapped around my dick since I nicknamed you Blow Job Lips back in fucking high school,” he muses, unbuckling his belt.
The realization of what’s about to happen grips my throat like cold, dead hands squeezing hard enough to cut off my air supply. Every self-defense technique the triplets taught me evaporates from my mind.
I’ve got nothing. My mind blanks. Panic grows swiftly, annihilating rational thought.
I thrash about, losing the battle before it begins. Jessie manhandles me to where Jake stands. He bumps the back of my knees with his, and I hit the ground, wincing when a sharp jab of pain shoots up my legs.
“You hated me for years,” I choke, grasping the only rational thought: play for time. The triplets are outside. They’ll start looking for me soon. I’ve been here too long already. I just need to stall. “You didn’t want me to touch you all through kindergarten, and now you want me to blow you?”
He grips a fistful of my hair, yanking me back so hard I yelp. “I don’t have to like you. I think the fact I don’t like you makes this even more exciting.”
Tears drip down my nose.
My stomach curls into a hard, hot ball, and I tremble all over while Jessie holds my hands behind my back.
“What happened?” I pant through the sting of my hair getting almost ripped out of my skull. “You bragged about how girls fall over themselves to get a taste of you every day back in high school. No one wants to blow you willingly anymore?”
Jake scoffs, outstretching his hand that holds the phone, grinning like a maniac. “Strap in, Price.” He turns the phone, tilting it down, so I’m visible on the screen. A red dot at the bottom tells me he’s recording. “The show’s about to begin.” He lets go of my hair, slides the zipper of his jeans, and frees his hard dick, proudly showing it off to the camera. “Come on, BJ. Don’t make this awkward. People are watching.” He looks in the camera again, shoving his dick closer to my lips. “Grab a pen, Price. I’ll be collecting that check soon.”
Money? He wants the money? Confusion knocks the breath out of my chest. Jake’s loaded. His father…
Oh, God.
Nico’s conversation with his assistant a few weeks ago comes back like the aftershock from an earthquake.
Arnold Grey pulled out all his money last week and just called to say he lost everything.
I didn’t think much of it back then, but now it makes perfect sense. Arnold Grey. Jake’s father.
They’re broke…
I look up at Jake, my teeth clenched tight as the head of his cock hangs less than an inch from my lips.
Fifteen years ago, he wouldn’t go anywhere near me, afraid he’d contract cooties.
Ten years ago, I was too chubby for him to consider me anything other than disgusting.
Five years ago, he called me four eyes and destroyed my glasses whenever he had the chance, laughing when I held onto the wall because I couldn’t see.
And now, he stands before the girl he wouldn’t touch with a stick, his eyes ablaze, pants down, buzzing erection twitching with precum, and one goal in mind: to win twenty-five grand.
“Don’t be like that, BJ,” he coos, artificially friendly for a second before his words turn thick with hatred. “It’ll be more pleasant if you don’t fucking resist.”
I grit my teeth tighter. My pulse hammers in my neck like a bird in a box, and tears come on stronger. High, hysterical sobs reverberate off the tiles like the wail of a violin.
Jake has no idea what he’s getting into. I’m no longer the outcast or a loner. I have people in my life who care about me. People who will do anything to protect me.
A boyfriend who’ll tear him apart when he finds out Jake’s trying to hurt me. I want to scream, tell him whose girl he’s about to touch, but if I part my lips, I lose.
“Open her mouth,” Jake snaps at Jessie, who immediately digs his thumb and index finger into the hinge joints of my jaw.
Pain zaps my nerve endings. The harder I clench my teeth, the worse it becomes.
Jake angles his phone, recording as he strokes his stiff cock, smearing small beads of what’s dripping from the end around his Prince Albert piercing. He was absurdly proud when he got it done. A picture of this exact cock with this exact piercing was glued to my locker daily for weeks before graduation.
Tears drip down my nose and chin, gaining momentum as Jessie increases the pressure. It feels like my face is being squeezed by metal clamps and my bones will fracture any second.
I can’t take it anymore. I whimper, and more tears follow when my mouth opens despite my best attempts.
God, where’s Cody? Where’s Colt?
“Good,” Jake huffs, hooking his thumb over my lower teeth. “Pretty, pretty, pretty,” he chants. “Relax, BJ. I know it’s big, but if you keep your mouth wide open, I’ll fit in there just fine.”
I’m thrashing about, trying to break free, but Jessie’s grip on my wrists tightens, and he’s pressing on the backs of my ankles with his whole tibia to keep me in place.
I’m powerless. I can’t stop him when he jerks forward, guiding himself into my mouth. His piercing touches my tongue, and he unhooks his thumb from my teeth to lower his pants.
His balls spring from their confinement, hanging low, dangerously close to my chin. The musky, sweaty smell makes my intestines crawl up my throat, and fifteen years of bullying flicker before my eyes in a maddening clip of cruelty, my mind like an intersection with too much traffic.
Every time Jake tripped, pushed, and shoved me comes back like a recoil of a fired gun. Every foul word, everything he ever threw at me, every time he made me cry, it all resurfaces. All the sandwiches I ate in the bathroom, too afraid to enter the cafeteria. All the things he destroyed…
I’m a pot of boiling milk. There’s no more room left in me. I can’t take any more, and for the first time, I’m struck with a burning need to fight.
He trapped me in a corner.
My fight or flight response kicks into its highest gear. One rational thought, like a stark-white bolt of lightning, ignites my senses, and I do the only thing I can, not thinking twice… I brace my teeth behind his piercing and clamp down with all my might.
I rip it out.
Warm, metallic blood floods my mouth a second before excruciating pain registers with Jake.
“Fuck!” he roars, jumping back. His phone lands on the floor. “Fucking whore!” He balls his hand into a fist, landing a powerful blast on the side of my face. “You filthy bitch!”
I’m dizzy… my head spins… I feel stupefied when Jake jerks away, holding his cock sputtering blood in crimson ejaculation.
I spit his piercing out, shaking like a newborn puppy sniffing for food. In most other high-stress situations, I’d be puking my guts out by now, but nausea doesn’t register yet. Survival instinct sharpens my senses, clears my head, and spurs me on.
Michael pales, still manning the door, his resolve wearing thin. A blizzard of uncertainty twists his face as he watches Jake. Two heartbeats later, he bails, scrambling out so fast he almost trips over his legs.
Jessie still holds my hands, but he’s back on his feet, muttering Jake’s name. Blood squirts onto my face, neck, and dress as if it’s being sprayed from a water gun.
I don’t take a second to consider my position. I act, converting adrenaline into courage as I dip forward, then wing myself back, ramming the back of my head into Jessie’s groin.
It hurts me, so I can only imagine how much pain I caused him. He lets go of my wrists, hissing profanities under his breath while Jake’s still two feet away, crying real tears. He drops to his knees, frantically trying to stop the bleeding, teeth clattering from pain, shock, or both.
I jump to my weak legs, wobbling on stiletto heels. I need a weapon. I’m too small to cause much damage with my fists, so I need something to hit with. I’m not thinking clearly, not weighing the consequences when I burst into the first cubicle and grip the ceramic water tank cover on the toilet.
I tear it off, stumbling back a step, then spin around, raising it over my shoulder like a baseball bat. It’s heavy. Under normal circumstances, I’d lack the strength to lift it with such ease, but nothing’s impossible when you’re cranked up on adrenaline.
“You’re fucking insane, bitch!” Jessie roars, jostling to his feet, arms outstretched like he wants to catch me.
He won’t touch me.
I won’t let either of them touch me.
I swing on my heel, the heavy cover almost tipping me over. I use the momentum to my advantage, ramming Jessie across the side of his head, my muscles stinging with the effort.
The cover shatters against his head, and Jessie’s unconscious body folds to the blood-stained tiles. His head thuds on the floor as the restroom door swings open, hitting the wall with a bang.
Johnny fills the height of the frame, his face glowing red. “What the—” He pauses, taking a quick look around, his complexion blanching. “Shit… fuck!” He walks in slowly, hands up like he wants to show me he has no bad intentions, but I stumble back, twisting my ankle, and barely manage to keep my balance. “Easy, there, it’s okay,” he mutters softly. “It’s okay, Mia, you’re okay. I won’t—” He cuts himself off again and stops mid-step, the white of his cheeks turning ashen.
I’m not sure why.
All I know is I’m backing away from him. Everything blends together. Sounds distort. The music fades, masked by the thunderous pulse drumming in my ears…
The rage seizing every cell in my body disintegrates, leaving me defenseless.
Nausea wrings my stomach when I follow Johnny’s line of sight. That’s why he stopped talking. Jake’s piercing glistens on the floor with bits of flesh attached. I thought I only ripped the piercing, but Jake’s missing a mouthful of dick.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrors above the sinks and take an involuntary step back. Blood mixes with tears on my face, neck, and dress, the sight like a still from a cheap horror movie.
Jake’s still crying, ripping his t-shirt off, probably trying to stop the bleeding, unaware of what’s happening around him. I don’t think he even noticed Johnny arrive.
My legs give in.
I collapse to my knees, adrenaline long gone, body limp, cold, and exhausted. I crawl into the cubicle, shaking all over when I grip the toilet with both hands and finally throw up.
“Fuck!” Johnny booms. “Mia! Mia… shit! Hold on, I need to…” His voice trails off when everything I ate today comes back.
“Nico…” I rasp, coughing, gagging, and gasping for air. Cold sweat coats my back, inducing a shivering fit. I grip the toilet harder, holding on for dear life as I beg, “…please get Nico.”
