said, "Whiskey," as he slid onto the stool next to the wall. He had a crack in his voice. His hands were shaking. The bartender looked up from a dirty cloth. Do you have cash? Zach put a cr

turned and undid one button on her blouse at a time. So keep going. He shut the door behind him, and the latch caught like a warning. As he pulled the hoodie over his head, his hands shook. The cold air touched his ribcage. She moved closer and looked at him closely. not hungry, not soft. Just here. You aren't running away from a woman, are you? She asked, half-joking. Once, he laughed. That clear? Only to someone who has done it too. She delicately caressed his shoulder, not possessively or demandingly, just there. Her hand was warm. He shut his eyes. He said, "I don't want to think." Okay. Thinking messes everything up. They tumbled into each other, not elegantly but with the need of people who had nothing left to lose. Her mouth found his neck, and her lips brushed against the spot where tension lived. He pressed his fingers into her back. She said something in Spanish in a low voice. He didn't want a translation. They fell into bed together, their limbs entwined and the only sound was their breathing and the occasional gasp that wasn't quite pleasure or agony. Later, she laid on her side and ran her fingernail over his chest, making lines that weren't there. What do you call yourself? Zach thought about it. Is it important? She smiled into the dark. No. Not tonight. Somewhere amid the mound of garments at the door, his phone buzzed. Again. Again. He didn't pay attention to it. The woman rolled aside, already falling asleep. Zach's heart raced as he looked at the ceiling. Bzz. Bzz. He picked up the phone. There were six missed calls. Five texts. Selene. He felt his chest tighten as he opened the screen, and everything started to fall apart. Zach sat up straight, the blankets slipping over his chest. The phone's light made