The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(30)
Author: J.C. Reed

The question that bothered me the most was why spin a concoction of phantasms rather than just recognize Jett? Sylvie was right: Even under the influence of alcohol, that part made no sense.

I closed my eyes, because I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “Jett asked if I was high. It didn’t strike me as odd at the time, but now…” I opened my eyes. My gaze scanned the room before settling on the bucket, and a horrible thought crossed my mind.

Sylvie spoke out the obvious first. “You think your drink was spiked?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. I grimaced but didn’t respond. “Do you think he would—”

I shook my head, horrified at the thought. “No. That wasn’t Jett. Gina bought all the drinks.” I paused long enough to notice Sylvie’s frown, then added, “She’s someone I met at work.”

“I see,” Sylvie said, deep in thought.

I didn’t like the look on her face and almost feared what she’d say next, but to my surprise, she just leaned back on the bed for a minute.

“Back when we were in college, my mom always had that irrational fear that we’d get into drugs, remember?” Sylvia finally said.

I nodded, unsure of where she was going.

“It didn’t exactly help that some guy smoked pot in the communal kitchen right before my mom popped in for a surprise visit,” Sylvie continued.

I grinned, remembering the scene vividly. Her mother had been livid, and back then, I was sure I’d never see Sylvie again. She never told me how she managed to diffuse that bomb.

“She bought a couple home drug-testing kits to detect the presence of common street and prescription drugs—you know, the usual, like ecstasy, amphetamines, opiates, and that stuff.”

“Really?” I stared at her, open-mouthed. “I didn’t even know they make such a thing. No wonder you never told me.”

Sylvie waved her hand, her expression betraying her annoyance. “Wait, that’s not all. Whenever she made one of her surprise visits, which was often, she insisted that I do the test. If I refused she’d cut off my allowance.” She grimaced, and her expression darkened just a little more. “Anyway, my point is that the test is 99.9 percent accurate. Were it not for the negative results, my mom never would have believed I wasn’t taking anything because she has this unnerving tendency not to trust anyone, including her own daughter.”

“Wow. Your mom…” I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t blame her for what she did though. We used to party pretty hard.”

“Yeah, like crazy.” Sylvie let out a high laugh as her expression adopted that faraway look that screamed she was being transported back to a different time in our lives. “Anyway, I still have a kit in my room. If you unknowingly took any drugs in the past forty-eight hours, we can know for sure within a few minutes. So…” She looked at me, surveying me for a moment. “Are you up for it?”

“What? Now?”

“Yeah, now.” She jumped up and pulled me to my feet. “It’s probably expired, but we could still give it a shot.”

I nodded, even though the idea wasn’t exactly appealing. How would I react if the test came back positive? What could I possibly assume other than that Gina might be into drugs and that she might have thought she was doing me a favor, helping me loosen up? It wasn’t unusual or unheard of. I had grown up in an area where teens offered others drugs, because they assumed their friends wanted to give them a try, too. But would Gina do that without even asking me? I just couldn’t believe she’d sneak it on me, without even telling me.

I watched as Sylvie retrieved a box from an upper shelf in her bedroom and motioned for me to follow her. Even as I walked after her, I knew I didn’t want to go through with the test because I feared its outcome. Then again, if I didn’t find out, the fear of not knowing would always be greater, nagging at the back of my mind. Metaphorical dark clouds descended upon me as soon as I joined Sylvie in the bathroom. For some reason, it was almost as bad as peeing on a pregnancy test. With each passing second, I grew more anxious, and finally it was time to evaluate the results.

“Here you go,” Sylvie said.

With a flick of her hand, I had my answer. We both stared at the paper in shock. All substances appeared to be negative, except one.

What the hell!

“You’re positive for GHP,” she whispered.

“Now would be a great time to shoot me,” I murmured. Sylvie opened her mouth to protest or lecture me, but I held up my hand to stop her. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvie said slowly.

“Don’t be.” I looked at her grimly, my mind strangely devoid of thoughts. I should have been shocked, fuming mad about the results, anything but—cold and composed.

Someone had spiked my drink, and it seemed that someone was Gina, for whatever reason. The comprehension stung, but it didn’t register. Instead, something else seemed to take center spot in my mind. The knowledge that I wasn’t to blame for what had happened the previous night didn’t ease the guilt of having slept with Jett. Perhaps my foggy mind had failed to recognize him and I had mistaken the entire sordid encounter for a dream, but as sure as hell, Jett had been lingering in my memories the whole time. I wanted him, and he was the one I would always want, the choice I would always make, no matter how bad for me.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not your fault, Brooke,” Sylvie whispered.

I shook my head, because she didn’t understand. It was my fault, and I had no one else to blame. “I could have chosen any man. Why him?” I turned away to hide the telltale moisture in my eyes, but I could feel Sylvie’s intense gaze burning a hole in my back, and her thoughts and anger were almost palpable in the air.

“Oh, sweetie, come here.” She enveloped me in a hug as tears began to trickle down my face again.

Chapter 16

In spite of my constant assurance that I was okay, Sylvie called in sick at work so she could stay with me. She made breakfast for us, consisting of her usual black coffee and toast, then cleared out a box of old movies for us to watch. For the first time in my life, she even offered to cook us Chinese.

I laughed, until her offended expression told me she was being serious.

“We’d better use them before they expire,” she said, standing in the kitchen with a brand new apron tied around her narrow waist. Scattered across the table were the contents of a gift box consisting of a cooking set for beginners, complete with Chinese ingredients. She had received it last Christmas from an aunt and had stashed it away in the back of a cupboard, along with all the other clutter she didn’t need. At that time, she had claimed the gift was ridiculous. Now, she seemed hell-bent on giving it a try.