"He hardly knows me," I mutter, just about the same thing I said to him, just a few days earlier. He thinks it was just some one-off thing, 'cause we let him, and I guess it was, but writing it off as a mistake, as an accident, as just something that happened 'cause we were both fucked up... it feels like a lie.

I look up, at his face, catch his eyes, and something dark slithers up from the back of my mind before I can stamp it back down again.