to Kiss a Drug Addict

31. Judgment

Me? I had no choice but to sleep in wet boxers. The drier broke before I could finish with my jeans. Rose doesn't seem to mind. Her back is to me right now as she lays on her left side. Her wet hair rests against my left arm. I don't mind that either. The vanilla scent is pleasing.

"You should've taken a shower too." Rose mumbles "Now you're gonna get sick."

"I won't." I lie.

She turns to face me. We look at each other for a long time then start talking again, getting to know each other so much she becomes my best friend all over again.

She tells me about her father In the Army, how he's thousands of miles away, and how much she misses him. She tells me how she broke her arm in the fifth grade and the time a neighbor daringly kissed her on the lips while they were playing house. She tells me stories of her childhood and dreams for her future. She tells me she likes me after the story with Prim and whispers 'I love you' when I smile at her joke.

In return, I tell her more about my old life, before I lost everything. I tell her about my first pet hamster and how I got bit by a turkey once on a farm. I tell her about the lavish trips my family took on the holidays. I tell her my dreams: to be sober, to be happy, and to travel the world like I used to. I tell her the emptiness I feel when she isn't there, because I have no one if she isn't there.

We talk for two hours, until she finally starts drifting off to sleep. She turns to her side again, her back to me, her hair on my arms.

She sighs, "We'll talk more in the morning."

I feel her smile in the air.

"Okay." I agree.

After a while, I start whispering "Rose."

She doesn't answer.

"Rose." I whisper a little louder

"Hmm?"

"Guess what."

"What?"

I stare at the ceiling. My heart beating fast.

"I love you too."

.........................................................

Rose pov:

Our breakfast consists of two bags of chips and a can of soda. We walk up to the front desk, return the key, and then walk hand and hand out of the motel.

From there we make our way back to his car parked in the camping grounds. He tries turning it on again but it's no use.

"That's it, I'm throwing this garbage in the junk yard." He declares.

"Why didn't you get rid of it sooner?" I giggle.

"I get too attached to things." He confesses "It's a bad habit of mine. I bought this with my own savings. I was too proud to take dad's money and buy myself a new one."

"Your dad's inheritance money?"

"Yeah." He mumbles "Makes me feel guilty living off him even after his death. But no one in Lancet wants to give me a job."

My stomach ties in knots. The more I think about Peirce being hated on, the more I hate Lancet. These people are judgmental to the point it makes me sick. They're self-righteous and old-fashioned and they're raising their kids the same way.

We wait next to the car until Matty arrives to pick us up twenty minutes later. He parks in front of the car, then comes out. The slam of the door and the look on his face makes my stomach knot even more. I had the hope he wouldn't be angry with me because I called him through a payphone to let him know what was going on.