sᴜɢᴀʀ sᴛᴏʀᴍ | ✓

33

Amara choked on her words as Primo's anger saturated the air. The man stepped forward and reached for his estranged son but Primo smacked his hand, lips curled in disgust.

"Don't you dare touch me!" he yelled.

"Primo... please... let us talk," Antonio Pavlov begged. His voice cracked as desperation clung to him like a leech.

"No!" He glared at his father as he spat his words. "Shit! I can't believe we are on the same continent!"

Amara moved to grasp his hand and stifled his fury but she was too late. Primo ran away from her, disappearing back into Maxine's mansion.

She yanked at her hair, pacing on the street. "What should I do?"

A pained groan emerged from the man as he clutched his chest. Zeke moved to help him. "Dad, are you okay?"

Amara moved before she could think. She and Zeke helped the older man back in the house. Zeke set him on a weathered brown couch in front of the television set as he hurried to get his maintenance medicines. Her grey eyes scanned the place, noticing the happy faces that decorated the sky blue wallpaper.

Zeke with his parents and two high school girls.

A complete family.

"Are you Primo's friend?" he asked with a small smile.

Now that Amara looked closely, Antonio and Primo's resemblance were striking. Blue eyes, dark hair, and pale skin. Even the way he tapped his fingers nervously was the same. "Yes. I've known him since we were ten."

Zeke came back with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. He sat beside his father and helped him.

Amara began to walk, knowing that she didn't belong in this place. But after one step, Antonio called out for her.

"Wait, Miss!"

She turned and met Zeke's brown eyes with a silent question but he only shrugged. Amara took the other end of the couch, twisting her fingers together.

"You know what happened between me and his mother then?"

Amara crossed her arms. She shot Zeke a pointed look after sensing that she was here to be a bridge between his father and Primo. "This is the reason why you were nice to me?"

Zeke ran his palm over his face. "No. I didn't know who you are. But dad asked—"

"I asked him to be friends with Primo. And he searched in that... app or something. Zeke recognized you," he explained. The lines in his face went deeper as he forced his words out. "I'm dying. I don't have much time left so that I... if I could talk to him..."

Zeke sighed heavily.

Amara remained aloof. Even if Antonio was dying, she was certain that Primo wouldn't even blink. She had witnessed each time he cried out of resentment and hatred.

Besides, she was on Primo's side.

"I'm sorry I can't!" She shot up from the couch and headed straight to the exit.

Amara found her way back to the party. She hit several drunk bodies. She stumbled and tripped too many fucking times but her focus didn't wane. She needed to find Primo before he does something crazy. Again.

Her attention shifted towards the pool where the students kept daring someone to jump.

"Oh, no." Profanities left her lips as her eyes landed on the balcony. Primo sat on the edge with a beer in his hand. Diving headfirst on the pool while drunk... Fuck.

Amara ran back inside the house, shoving drunken teenagers out of her way as tears blurred her eyes. A part of her believed that this was her fault. If only she and Zeke never got acquainted... maybe his best friend wouldn't be in this situation right now.

"Amara!" A soft hand gripped her wrist. "What's happening? Are you okay?"

She blinked back the tears that Isla's worried face became clearer. "I'm fine. I... Shit! I need to get to Primo!"

Amara pulled back from Isla and rushed to the stairs. She heard the girl follow her, asking questions. She disregarded her. Her heart hammered when her gaze found Primo's back. He looked down on his audience with a small laugh.

"Shit." Amara grabbed Primo's hand. "Primo, come on."

"What? Baby... no..." he complained. "So nice here... You... Come here."

Amara wrapped her arms around his waist, disregarding his garbled invitations. She yanked him back, toppling on her feet. At that second, Isla helped her. They managed to draw him in after several pushes and pulls.

"The... hell! Don't touch me... Are you... You ruining my fun!" Primo expressed his annoyance, swatting Amara's hold on her as Isla stepped back. She shot her a worried look but Amara ignored it.

"Primo!" She begged, her left arm supporting his back. He swayed on her hold and the beer fell from his hands, breaking into pieces.

"Fuck! No! Come on... My beer!" Primo bent down to pick it up. 

"Primo, no! Please!" she yelled.

"But... my beer...?" he slurred and tried to grab the shattered glass. Amara cursed and stopped him. Primo straightened before he slapped a hand to his mouth. "It's spinning..."

"Amara!"

She yelped as Primo staggered against him, his weight too heavy for her to support. They fell fast and Amara barely had time to keep them from completely collapsing with her other arm.

Pain lanced through her wrist as their asses hit the marble floor.

Fuck. What was that?

"Are you okay?" Isla steadied Primo as Amara straightened up. They leaned him against the balcony's white rails. "I'll ask someone to help."

She nodded. "Thank you."

Isla smiled and went down the stairs.

Amara sat next to her best friend. She eyed her wrist, pressing near the thumb area. She winced.

"Please be a mild sprain."

Even as she said that her fingers tingled and her wrist throb. Tears emerged from the corner of her eyes. Amara gritted her teeth. This wasn't a good time for this.

"Sorry," Primo muttered next to her.

Amara turned to him. His eyes were shut close, head propped against the railings as his skin shone with his sweat. "You okay?"

"I don't know... Can I drink... more? Much more..." Primo raised his knee, hitting his forehead on it. "Forget this. Want to forget this..."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."