Addicted

Stone is quiet when he walks over to us. He stands behind my left shoulder, holding two shot glasses in his hands. He hands one to me.

"Help for what?" I ask when he doesn't elaborate. I stare down at the brown liquid, watching as it sloshes against the wall of the glass. The smell is strong, and makes my mouth water in anticipation of the burn. The only time I ever drank was when I accidentally took a sip from dad's flask when I was eleven.

Behind me, Stone tilts his head back and downs the alcohol. He hisses, eyes squeezing shut, and he walks over to the stereo.

Haeden pokes a little at my eye, the swelling having gotten worse. "There doesn't happen to be any ice in the chest, is there?"

He shakes his head. He lays his hands on my thighs, his touch burning my skin despite the layer between them. Behind me, the artist Jelly Roll begins to play.

"I’m a fucked up person, Ella." He shakes his head, a sigh escaping him. He lifts a hand from my thigh and runs it through his hair.

"Y