Page 51 of Trailer Trash

God, I need to fuck her.

Then this weird feeling will die.

Frida whispers in my ear.

“Who did that to your face? Was it... you know?”

“Bobby Morris,” I answer.

“Who?” The flirtation in her voice is gone. She’s killing my vibe.

“A dealer. You wouldn’t know him,” I reply.

Her eyes narrow, the look telling. “I need to talk to you. Seriously. Let’s get out of here.”

I glance at Harlow, who sits quiet and sullen.

“Nah, I have other plans tonight.”

Other plans with a curvy girl that better spread those thick thighs for me.

13

Harlow

We get back to the mansion, and I am drunk.

To be fair, I had three-Killian sized glasses of wine, which is almost a bottle. Unlike him, I’m a lightweight.

We don’t make it to the elevator.

I grip Killian’s forearm tightly, using him for balance. My hand clamps over my mouth, my voice muffled.

“Bathroom.”

He leads me fast to the nearest one. As soon as I see the toilet, I fall to my knees and throw up. He moves fast, holding my hair back.

I’m shameless, because when I finish, I glance up and don’t act cool.

“I am the worst! I’m supposed to call your dad because you can’t behave, and here I am throwing up in his house.”

“Bad girl, Harlow. Just trash.” He hands me a towel for my face.

I push on his shoulder and roll my eyes. “You did this on purpose.”

“I did,” he admits, equally shameless.

I wince and clutch my forehead. “Everything’s spinning.”

He helps me to the vanity, pours some mouthwash, which I swish and spit. I’m a mess in the mirror. I don’t stare at my reflection for long. As I head out of the room, I wobble. He scoops me up and carries me to his bed.

“Killian! No! The couch!”

“Relax, I won’t try anything.”

Pfft.

He sets me on the mattress. I curl into a ball, hugging one of his pillows.