Free Born Wrong by C. M. Stunich Page B

leave. His eyes are so different. I've never seen a gray like that on another human being. They remind me of the lake in the morning, just before the sun comes up, and there's that soft mist drifting across the water.
    “With me?” Naomi asks with another smile. I think we're going to be good friends, me and this chick. “Good luck. I hear I'm hard to get.” Turner rolls his eyes and stomps towards the door. I don't know if I've ever really seen him just walk. When he's in a good mood, he swaggers. When he's pissed, he slams his feet against the floor like it owes him money.
    “Don't you bother my brother, ass weed,” I tell him as he starts into the hallway. “He just woke up from a near death experience. The morphine makes him think he's okay, but he's not. Remember that.”
    “Uh, yes, Mommy Dearest, I fuckin' got it.” And then he leaves, slamming the door behind him. The sound startles Dax out of his sleep, sending him straight up in bed, chest pounding, eyes darting every which way. Until they find me. My own breath gets caught in my throat and threatens to strangle me. I want to be buried in those depths in an unmarked grave. I want to get lost in the gray fog of his gaze and never find my way home. I seriously almost fucking swoon. And how often does that happen? Yeah, never.
    “Shit,” he groans, and just the sound of it almost convinces me that I should jump his bones. Almost, but not quite. “I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me.”
    “Dax, please,” Naomi says, her voice friendly but not overly affectionate. I still want to know what their story is. As soon as I look back at him and see him looking at her, I get part of it. Ah. Dax is staring at Naomi and then flipping his eyes back to me. Back and forth. He does this for a minute and then swings his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing roughly onto his face and digging his fingers into his scalp. He likes her. And me. Well, he's got a thing for her, and he wants to fuck me. When Dax stares at Naomi, his expression softens and his mouth relaxes, but when he looks at me, he swallows too much and runs his tongue over his lips. “You've been pushing yourself too hard. You need to take it easy.”
    “What happened at the hospital?” he asks her, carefully keeping his gaze trained on her face. “Is everything okay?”
    “Everything's fine,” Naomi says, pauses, touches her hand to her blonde hair. “For now. Just … rest up, take a shower. We can talk later.” She glances over at me and an awkward silence descends on the room. Everyone has a system here, a group, a set of people they should be with, things they should talk about, places to go. Me, I'm new here and I don't fit. I can't call a horde of demons to my hands and smash them into an instrument. I can't fight with that fury and that rage that I saw Dax in earlier. I'm not a singer or a musician or even an artist, I'm just a stripper with a stupid baby brother and his dumb friends. But I'm here to help, not make things more awkward.
    “I'll be in Milo's room if you need me,” I say, and then, with one last glance at the beautiful, dark eyed drummer before me, I turn away and walk out the door.

“I'm not doing this again, Hayden,” I say, pushing her off of me. It takes a lot of effort. Sometimes, I just let her hang on me, touch me, whatever, because it takes so much work to get her to stop. Especially on days like today when I feel like I'm going to throw up. I should have never slept with her. That was my mistake. She's been a lot more lovey since then, usually when we're in private. But that day she came back … I was so wracked with pain over Naomi's supposed death. And Hayden seemed so upset, looked up at me with those eyes and told me horror stories. I'm such a bleeding heart fuck, I tell myself as I check my cellphone. There are no missed calls, no messages. Did I expect something different? A good job, son or something? If my dad even watched the concert – which