I walk into June's bar at midnight wearing sunglasses I don't take off and a leather jacket buttoned to my throat despite the indoor heat. The music is loud. Bodies pack the space between tables. I scan for June and find her behind the bar wiping down glasses.
Her face lights up when she sees me. Then immediately falls when she gets a good look.
She sets down the glass. Comes around the bar. Her eyes track over me with the practiced assessment of someone who's known me for years. The pallor of my skin. The way I move too precisely, like every step is calculated. The tension coiled in my shoulders. She's wearing combat boots and a leather jacket over a faded band shirt. Her dad's old Nikon hangs around her neck like she just came from shooting somewhere.
"Jesus, Nora. You look like death warmed over."
I force a smile. "Thanks. That's exactly what I was going for."
"I'm serious. When's the last time you slept?"
"I've been sleeping."
"Bullshit. You have that hollow-eyed thing going on. The same look Justin had when he was using."
"I’m not your brother," I say.
She steers me toward our usual booth in the corner, her hand firm on my elbow. Slides in across from me. The waitress appears with our standing order without being asked. Loaded fries. Extra cheese. Two forks.
June nudges the basket toward me. "Eat. You're wasting away."
I lift a fry mostly to keep up the lie. The first bite detonates. Salt. Heat. The velvet slide of cheese. My mouth floods with saliva. I take another fry. Then another. Then I stop pretending. I eat like I've been starving. Two at a time. Raking up the cheese with my thumb. Barely pausing to breathe. The basket thins fast.
June's eyes narrow. Her voice drops. "Okay. What the fuck is going on?"
"Nothing. I'm just hungry."
"You inhaled those fries like you haven't eaten in a week. And you're wearing sunglasses indoors at midnight."
"The lights are bright."
"Nora."
"How's Justin doing?" I ask, hoping to change the subject. "Is he still seeing that guy from the coffee shop?"
"Justin dumped the barista two weeks ago. Found out the guy was still on Grindr. Brutal breakup. I brought him ice cream and we watched terrible rom-coms for six hours." She picks up a fry but doesn't eat it. "He asked about you, actually. Said you haven't been by the zine office in forever."
"I've been busy."
"Right. Busy." She sets the fry down.
"I’m sorry about Justin."
"You’re deflecting. Justin's fine. He's always fine. We're talking about you right now." She leans forward. "Did Dorian hurt you?"
My head snaps up. "No."
"Are you sure about that? Because you look like hell. Pale as a ghost. Jumpy. And you're eating like you're starving but you've clearly lost weight." She pauses, doubting. "Are you on something?"
"I'm not on anything."
"Then what? Because this?" She gestures at me. "This isn't you."
"I got a new job. Night shifts."
"Since when?"
"Since recently."
"Doing what?"
"Working for Dorian."
June sits back. Crosses her arms. "Of course you are."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I've seen this before. Rich guy swoops in, isolates the girl, gets her dependent on him. Next thing you know she's cut off from everyone who actually gives a shit about her."
"He's not isolating me."
"Really? When's the last time you came by during normal hours? When's the last time we got coffee? When's the last time you answered when I call?"
I don't have an answer for that.
June's voice goes flat. Cold. "I've known you since we were fifteen. You're a terrible liar. Always have been. So if something is wrong, if he's controlling you or hurting you or doing any of the things abusive men do, you need to tell me. Right now."
The words build in my throat. The truth is trying to claw its way out. I swallow them down.
I reach across the table. Squeeze her hand. "I promise I'm okay. Dorian treats me well. I'm just going through some changes and I need time to adjust."
"Changes."
"Yes."
"What kind of changes?"
"Personal ones."
"Nora."
"June, please. I need you to trust me."
She studies my face for a long moment. Then nods slowly. She doesn't believe it. But she's backing off. For now.
"Fine. But I'm saying this once." She squeezes my hand back. Hard. "If he touches you wrong, if he scares you, if anything feels off, you call me. I don't care what time it is. I will show up with whatever you need. Soup or a switchblade. Your choice."
"I know."
"And you need to start answering your phone. Like a good friend."
"I'll try."
"Don't try. Do it." She releases my hand. Leans back. "Right now, you're scaring me, Nora."
A drunk guy stumbles past our booth. His hand shoots out. Grabs my ass hard enough to make a statement.
The reaction is pure instinct.
My hand closes around his wrist and twists before my brain catches up to my body. The man yelps. His knees start to buckle as the bones in his wrist grind together under my grip. I can feel exactly how much pressure it would take to snap them. Feel the fragility of human bone under my fingers. For a split second I want to hear it break.
Then I see June's face.
She's gone white. Her eyes are wide and locked on my hand.
I release the man like he's on fire. He staggers back clutching his wrist.
"Crazy bitch," he swears.
The bartender is already moving toward us.
I stand abruptly. Nearly knock over the table.
"I have to go." My voice comes out wrong. Too high. "I'm sorry. I'll call you later."
"Nora, wait—"
June reaches for my arm but I'm already moving. Weaving through the crowd toward the exit. Behind me I hear June call my name but I don't stop.
Outside the air is cold and clean. I can finally breathe.
I walk. Three blocks. Four. My hands are shaking. Not from fear. From how close I came to breaking that man's wrist in front of everyone. From how much I wanted to. From the look on June's face when she saw what I almost did.
I pull out my phone. Text Dorian. Three words.
I need you.