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He'll Kill Me

Ben

“I didn’t mean to get drunk at all. But you know how it goes.”

“Yeah. Tequila hits you from left field, and before you know it, your balance is fucked, and you swipe your card again and again, thinking more alcohol will fix it.” Jerrod chuckled. “At least you’re back and having fun.”

The same guilt I had felt earlier twisted my stomach in a knot. I couldn’t tell Jerrod I was leaving soon. Not with Mila here. I was lying to Jerrod about more than one thing. I was an awful friend.

“I better get going before my mom calls the cops to look for me.”

“Maybe she already did,” Jerrod said.

I shook my head. “Where the hell is my shirt?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know.

Jerrod pointed to it on the floor.

“How did that happen?” I asked, trying to sound like it had been a blackout drunk night. I stood and walked to my shirt, picking it up and putting it on. I found my shoes, too. After I was dressed, I turned to Jerrod and Mila.

“Thanks for forcing me to stay over. I think I would have pisse
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