Chapter 51
TJ
Igo back inside to find Weberly, and, sure enough, I find her where I left her.
I went to look for Cornelia despite Weberly’s objections. I should have listened to her. But Cornelia seemed uncharacteristically out of sorts, and I wanted to make sure she was all right. I even picked up a glass of champagne on my way to take to her as a sort of peace offering.
I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped on her conversation, but she was talking to Benedict, and I couldn’t help it.
While I’ve seen them interact before, this time was different.
The few other times were calculated—a performance she had put on to bother me and make me jealous.
But this… this wasn’t that. This was natural.
They were simply being themselves, and she seemed happy.
Really happy. And it felt like a bucket of cold water when the realisation hit me: she loves him.
She may not have said it, but she didn’t need to—it was written all over her face and in the way she spoke to him.
“Come with me,” I say to Weberly, taking her hand.
“Okay,” she replies, following me, unbothered that I ditched her a few minutes ago.
I guide Weberly downstairs, weaving through a crowd of people to the table I saw earlier, which is laid out with drugs—it’s almost like a buffet.
There’s coke, ecstasy, ketamine, cannabis, and some other substances I don’t recognise.
I position myself by the cocaine, release her hand so I can take out my credit card and a ￡20 note, and start rolling it.
“What are you doing?” Weberly asks me.
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” I begin cutting a line with my credit card, then turn to her. “Do you want one?”
She shakes her head repeatedly. “Let’s… let’s not do this. We can get drunk or… go back to Lucian’s and have sex.”
I would typically accept her offer. She and alcohol have been a good way to forget about Cornelia dating someone else, but forgetting that Cornelia is in love with someone who isn’t me—that won’t cut it. I need something stronger to forget.
“I want to do this,” I tell her firmly.
“I don’t. I don’t like drugs,” Weberly says sharply, and somehow, it feels like her dislike for them is personal, but I don’t really care to ask. “Let’s just get out of here.” She pulls on my arm.
I roughly pull my arm out of her grasp. “If you want to get out of here, then off you go, but I’m not coming with you,” I snap at her.
“Fuck you,” she spits out, then turns around and walks away.
I feel like I should go after her. If she were Cornelia, I would. But she isn’t.
I turn around to look at the line of coke I just cut.
I wonder for a second if I should. I haven’t done drugs in a while.
The last time… well, I shake my head hard, as if that could make me forget.
Not… not that there’s much to remember anyway—just a sickening feeling.
Movement. Since then, I haven’t touched any hard drugs in years.
Maybe… I shouldn’t.
But it can’t make the night worse, so fuck it.
I snort the line, then take a pill from the pile of drugs. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like playing Russian roulette tonight.