Delinquents Turned Fugitives - Ann Denton Page 0,44

toward him. His bicep was the size of my face.

It made me laugh. "You're so huge."

He shrugged. "I was 'Born This Way.'"

I tilted my head and stared up at the big, brutal-looking gangster. "Did you just quote Lady Gaga?"

He shrugged and yanked the top off the whiskey. "Here. Drink."

I took a sip, and the roof of my mouth and entire esophagus lit up like they were on fire. "Shit."

"Yeah. Sorry. It's the cheap stuff. That's all they had here. But it’ll get the job done."

I handed it over and while he took a drink, I fought to embrace the upcoming buzz and avoid the despair that wanted to knock me over. I stared at the crown molding across the room, noting the flecks in the paint.

"My mom died when I was eleven," Andros divulged, out of the blue.

My head jerked sideways and I stared up at him. His face remained as stoic as a statue, but there was a catch in his voice when he said, "Sucks."

I grabbed the bottle from his hands and took another swig. "Yeah." For a few minutes, we just passed the bottle back and forth, me taking smaller and smaller sips as tipsiness overtook me. The dizzy, light-headed feeling made me feel like I was floating.

“What was she like?” I eventually asked.

“Mom? She was … kind of like Z. Life of the party. Always joking. Used to chase me through the school yard and threaten tickles.” He laughed and his face softened with fond memories. It was the most handsome I’d ever seen him, his blue eyes lit up and his lips curved in a soft smile. “I used to hate that.”

I settled back against the headboard and let myself remember Mom … before. “My mom was the caretaker. Good cook. Worked part-time at our elementary school to keep an eye on us. Family was everything to her.” I blew out a breath. Damn, even that had been painful. “Gimme the bottle.” I took a healthy swig and let the alcohol burn my throat as it slid down. I focused on my gasp and the way my fists clenched, instead of the rabid animal inside of me trying to escape, trying to claw its way out through my skin. I couldn’t focus on the pain or it would overwhelm me.

I leaned back against the headboard and clutched the sheets for a minute, fighting off the emotions.

"I lived with our grandma," Andros revealed randomly.

"Your and Z's grandma?" I asked, latching onto the distraction.

"Yeah. He'd stay there once in a while, when his pops was in jail. But mine was gone from the start. Left when I was born. She's a sweet lady, you'd like her. Used to try to swat me with a spatula."

"That doesn't sound sweet."

He started to chuckle. "I never told her that I'd move out of the way and back so fast she couldn't even tell. Had to make the smacking noise with my own hands."

I laughed, trying to imagine it. I pictured a kitchen with linoleum floors, a scratched wooden table, and a young Andros being a mouthy shit. He must have been a damn cute kid, I thought, based on what he looked like now. "I don't really know that I can picture you getting spanked."

"Never have been, never will be spanked. I do the spanking."

My throat grew tight and an entirely different mental image flashed through my head, one with Andros’ hand smacking my ass, completely shoving aside grief for a few seconds.

Andros seemed to realize where he'd taken things. He coughed and immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to go there."

I shook my head. "You're fine. It's distracting me."

He set the bottle of whiskey on the ground, screwing the lid back on. "And I'm done if I'm saying shit like that when I'm supposed to be the one in here comforting you."

"You are. Tell me something else," I demanded, leaning my head on his shoulder before popping right back up. "Shit. Is that okay? I'm just a little, you know--"

"Tipsy?"

"Yeah," I giggled. "But it's better than sad. I hate being sad. I feel like I've been sad forever."

Andros reached out and put his arm around my shoulders, dragging me in so that my head rested on his hard, firm, huge pec. It was sweet, and because I was drunk it didn't even feel awkward.

“Grandma always used to say when she lost grandpa that it felt like she was drowning. The sadness just soaked in. She used to say it was