Fuck. I scrub my hand down my face, exhausted from the sheer amount of energy it takes to think. I shouldn’t have said anything to Boone at all. Now I also have his virtuous shit running through my mind. I have never craved a hit so badly like I’m craving one now. I just want to disappear into a high for like an hour and not think.
I have less than a week to sort through my shit and get my head straight.
How the hell do people do this sober.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
My back tenses, and I grip the shirt in my hands. “I’m not. Been busy.” Bringing the sleeves together, I continue to fold the tee.
Boone moves to the laundry room doorway and braces his shoulder against the frame, half in the room, half out. His hair isn’t fixed today. His usual, deliberately messed spikes lay relaxed, unkempt. I can’t help noticing it looks really cute.
He crosses his tatted forearms over his chest, watching me fold clothes. “Want some help.”
“I got it,” I say, quickly folding my last pair of jeans. I grab the folded pile and place them on top of the unfolded heap in the basket.
“I still need about ten hours of service,” he says. “I don’t mind. Laundry beats doing anything out in the heat.”
“Sorry, all done.” I grab the basket and anchor it to one hip, then move to step around him.
He blocks the doorway. “Mel, what’s up?”
>
I bite my bottom lip, my gaze aimed past him. “I have literally three days left. I’m just trying to do my time. Not really in the mood to eff off lately. That’s all.”
He drops his arms. “I didn’t realize… Damn. Time has fucking flown by.”
“Yeah, well…” I shrug. “It hasn’t for the rest of us stuck in here.” I look up at him and tick my head toward the community area. “I have a few last-minute assignments to finish up.”
He doesn’t move, instead, he continues to stare down at me, his features strained. Like if he outwaits me, I’ll be the first to bend. But I’m good at this game; you have to care in order to lose. I could stand here all day and only be pissed that I missed the chocolate pie promised to us after dinner.
Finally, he says, “All right,” and steps aside. I shuffle the basket higher on my hip as I walk past him.
“Hey,” he calls, and I freeze in place. My back to him. “Just tell me. Did I do something to piss you off? I mean, this is far from affable.”
I shake my head. “It’s not you, guy. You didn’t do anything.” I glance behind me. “I just…I have to take this seriously. And that’s hard to do when I’m plotting evil ways to lure you away from celibacy.”
A hint of a smile twists his lips. He nods slowly, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he considers this. “You probably would’ve broken me.” His eyes flick up, search mine. “All this shit aside, I’m not the good boy you have me pegged for.”
A pang knocks my chest. “Yes, Boone. You are.” His lips part, but I shake my head and continue. “Doesn’t matter, though. I’m doing what I need to try to get out of here. Period. No distractions.”
His shoulders pull back. “You have any fear that you won’t?”
Do I? After my last meeting with Doc Sid, that went about as well as my others…I’m not sure. I turn and adjust the basket to both hands, positioning it like a barrier between me and Boone. “I’ll get out. But…they fuck with your head in here,” I say. “I’m not…myself. So I’m not sure how I’ll be once I am out. I don’t think—”
He raises a hand. “I get it, Mel.” His hazel eyes skim over my face, and I feel more than vulnerable. “I’m glad you’re being honest, because you’re right. It would’ve been difficult to continue any friendship outside these walls.” He starts off around me, brushing my shoulder as he passes. My heart lurches into my throat.
He doesn’t get it. I’m doing him the biggest favor. I know I am—but what sucks? I usually don’t give a damn when I blow a guy off. I’m through. Moving on. But for some screwed up reason, I feel ashamed that I can’t let Boone in on why I’m giving him the ice bitch brush off.
“Oh wait—here,” he says.
Turning slowly to face him, I see him dig something out of his pocket. He walks over to one of the tables and scoops up a pencil. He jots something down on a tiny piece of paper, then walks back to me. During this whole process, I’m already deciding that whatever help he’s going to offer will end up in the trash. I won’t stay in St. Augustine for long. I’m not someone he needs in his good, clean world, so why bother keeping up the pretense?
“Just in case you need anything.” He hands me his number scrawled on the paper. I take it, suppressing the effect his quick touch has on me as our fingers connect.
He shrugs a shoulder. “I know you won’t find a sponsor after treatment, and I’m not offering that. But if you ever just need someone to talk to…” He sighs and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”
The paper is hot in my hands. I tuck it into my back pocket. “Do me a favor,” I tell him, looking up to find his gaze. When he raises an eyebrow in question, I say, “Find a good girl, Boone. Someone who will get you out of this scene, away from this depressing shit.”