JUST A LITTLE JUNK

coming May 22nd

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...

Jodi didn't like where this line of conversation was going. Sure, she'd been high out of her mind, but she'd also been present. She'd known exactly who she'd been doing all that stuff with, every second. Yet he was acting like she was some innocent bystander who hadn't known any better. She pulled away from him.

“I'm a big girl, I'm fine,” she stressed, holding her arms out at her sides.

“Good. Cause I'd hate to lose my best friend over some dumb shit that happened while we were on drugs.”

“Yeah. That would be awful. Can we open this door now?” she snapped, turning away from him and clawing at their exit.

“What, are you mad again?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Peachy keen. Door, Calhoun. Open it,” she insisted, pounding her hand on the glass, hoping someone outside would here.

“You sound mad, Jojo,” he told her.

“I'm not. I'm claustrophobic. Get me out of here.”

“You're not claustrophobic. Tell me what -”

She let out a shout and gave the door a savage kick. Much to her surprise, it worked – where she kicked it, the frame splintered and simply fell away from the wall. The strike plate and latch were completely exposed, she was able to simply press it down with her finger and the door fell open. She hurried through it and all but jogged down the hallway.
He caught up to her in the huge expanse before the exit, the area they'd walked through three hours earlier, when they'd been looking for the rave. Now they were finally leaving - a little richer, somewhat wiser, and a lot more disappointed in life.

“Cmon, Jo, don't be mad at me. I hate when you're mad at me!” he whined, matching her step for step as they went outside.

“I'm never mad at you!” she snapped, increasing her pace. It didn't make much of a difference – he was like six foot three or four, with long legs. He easily kept up with her.

“Is it because of the sex?” he asked, and she took a deep breath, willing away a blush.

“No.”

“Don't worry – it was pretty good.”

“Pretty good!?” she yelled, whirling around on him.

“Yeah. If that's what you're upset about,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. She held up her hands.

“Let me get this straight – you think I'm upset because I think I wasn't good in bed?” she double checked.

“Don't worry about it,” he said while nodding. “We were stoned, it was crazy, who knew what was going on.”

“Are you saying I wasn't good!?” she gasped.

“No,” he said quickly. “I'm just saying don't feel bad about anything that happened in there.”

“You're a real fucking piece of work, you know that?” she yelled, shoving him in the chest.

“Thanks. And I'm sure the next guy you sleep with, it'll be awesome. You'll be sober, you'll be present, you'll be into it,” he prattled off.

Jo couldn't handle it. She was running on a couple hours of sleep at most, she had a body decomposing in the trunk of her car, said body was possibly a stalker, she'd gotten drugged at a rave, and while stoned, she'd had what she thought was the best sex ever with her life long crush, who then described the incident as “pretty good” – she had officially reached the end of her tether.

So she didn't feel at all bad when she shrieked and punched him in the throat, as hard as she could.