Fearless Like Us (Like Us 9)

“Oh hey, Banks.” Sulli hugs my side, seeing that I’m actually torn up at the losses. “We can stop here. Fuck, I can pay you back—”

“No—this was my bad idea.” I lift my arm to her shoulders, and the hand that hangs over her, she laces her fingers with mine. “The guy with the good ideas is supposed to come and rescue us.”

“Hey, he doesn’t always have good ideas,” Sulli nudges me. “Case in point.” The break-up.

“He thinks it’s a good one,” I tell Sulli. “At least I know they’re both bad ideas.”

“Which is why Kits needs you.” Sulli counts her chips. “I can do another five grand.”

“I can do a hundred.” I only have six-hundred left on me, and I’m saving the cash for dinner and any problems we might meet. And last thing I want is to beg Thatcher for cash to get me by on groceries next week. “Beg” in quotations because my brother would toss money at my face without a second thought. Though, he’d give me a hell of an earful.

As we stand up and shift our chips on the table, my phone buzzes. Akara finally responds to our group chat.

Stop burning cash. I’m not coming. – Akara

Expected that.

I dig for my cigarettes. “Tell him we’re not stopping.”

She texts. “Done.” And then Sulli shoves her chips on number 9. “For Kits.”

For Akara, I think, shoving mine onto red.

Cigarette between my lips, I light the thing. Sulli watches me with worried green eyes.

“It’s just one, mermaid,” I remind her.

“Drinks?” A server leans in to ask.

“I’ll take champagne,” Sulli says, and I try not to overthink my bad influence. She’s only having one drink. Like I’m only having one cigarette. She said she knows her limits, and I’m trusting that while I’m currently fingering my own vice.

The server glances to me, and I shake my head. Muscles stiff, I take a deeper drag from the cigarette. Sulli steps in front of me, fitting against my body like a glove. I wrap an arm around her collarbones.

“Red!” Sulli and I chant loudly. “Nine! Nine!”

The entire crowd around us joins in. “RED! NINE! RED! NINE!”

The ball stops.

A sea of groans crash into the room. Black twenty-nine.

“Fuuuuuck.” Sulli leans back into me even more, and like a fucking lightning strike from Zeus, my temple starts throbbing something awful. I wince. Suddenly, the flashing lights from the slots are neon daggers to my skull.

Mother of Christ.

I breathe through my nose. I’m on-duty. I’m on motherfuckin’ duty. I repeat the mantra to calm myself, to set my priorities straight. I can’t go down while I’m supposed to be upright.

I can’t.

I lick my dry lips. And a second dagger to my skull surges nausea. I snuff the cigarette on an ashtray.

Sulli leans her head back to glance up at me. Seeing my fucked expression, she spins around completely. “Banks?”

“Bathroom,” I tell her.

I’m going to be sick.

51

SULLIVAN MEADOWS

Knelt behind Banks in a bathroom stall, I rub his back up and down while he grips onto the toilet lid. Seeing my boyfriend fighting the urge to puke is tearing me apart inside. He didn’t eat spoiled shellfish or drink too much whiskey. He’s in so much fucking pain that he’s a second away from barfing.

I want to rip that pain out of him. To jump inside his head and race against his migraine, until it’s defeated and he’s the sole fucking victor—but I can’t battle the thing in his head.

Rubbing his shoulders, I lean closer. “I’m right here, Banks. I’m right here.” I kiss the back of his neck.

I swear his mouth curves in those almost-smiles. He peeks over his shoulder, using a fuck ton of effort to rest his eyes against mine. He’s exerting way too much energy.

I try to urge him back. “Don’t look at me.”

“I like looking at you, mermaid.” He takes a measured breath. “You’re the most stunning sight a guy like me could ever see.” The way he’s staring at me, like he’s telling me goodbye, is killing every part of me.

“Stop,” I force out, tears building. I wipe them fast. “Just hug the fucking toilet.”

He curls his hair behind his left ear, then right. Not facing forward yet, he breathes, “You’re the love of my life, Sullivan, and wherever I’m going in this world or after, I’ll be waiting there for you—just don’t meet me too soon. You better become an old woman—”

“Stop.” I try not to burst into tears. “I’m not letting you die. You’re not allowed to fucking die, so you reach into your brain and tell your migraine to fuck off.” I lift up higher on my knees and speak into his hair. “Fuck off, Migraine. We fucking hate you.” My tears drip into his hair.

Banks holds my waist, and I feel a soft, low laugh tumble out of him. And then he lets go as he spins quickly back towards the toilet.