Faster We Burn

could comprehend.
    “You don’t have to do this alone. You didn’t let me do it alone, and I’m not going to let you. I love you, and we can get through this together. Got it? You and me. No space.”
    I gripped his face and forced him to look at me before I pulled his face down and kissed him. His lips tasted of scotch and cigarettes and salty tears. He resisted, but I opened my mouth and joined my tongue with his, not letting him pull away. I poured all my love into that kiss, hoping it would break through to him.
    His arms went around my back and he pulled me close. Tight, like when he’d been holding me together right after Dad died. I kissed him harder.
    I pulled back and kissed his chin, which had a little bit of stubble on it.
    “We don’t have to talk about it now. How about we go somewhere?” I said, not letting go of his face.
    “Where?” he said, his voice raspy.
    “I don’t know. Anywhere.” I searched my brain for somewhere we could go that was close to campus, but that would give me a little time to try to get him back together.
    “I’ll go anywhere with you.”
    “Same here,” I said, moving my hands down his arms until I was holding both of his. “Come on, let’s go somewhere.”
    He nodded and let me lead him out of the apartment.

 
     
    Chapter Twenty-seven
     
     
    Stryker
     
    No matter what, she wouldn’t leave me, just like I wouldn’t leave her. I supposed I should have expected it. What I didn’t expect was that even if I was a complete and total asshole, she didn’t react. Like I was just a child having a tantrum and she was waiting for me to wear myself out.
    “Where are we going?” I said when she shoved me into her Mazda and put my seatbelt on. The irony of the situation was not lost on me.
    “I don’t know yet. I’m making this up as I go along.”
    She turned some music on that fed from her iPod and Ed Sheeran’s “Kiss Me” seeped through the speakers. It almost made me smile, because I’d put his music on there for her.
    “Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we’re going to. You made me talk about my Dad, so it’s my turn.”
    “Katie.”
    “Nope, I’m in charge of this grief committee. You had your turn.” She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I shut my face and tried not to think about how much I wished I was back in my apartment, drinking alone. I didn’t deserve a grief committee and I sure as hell didn’t deserve Katie.
    Katie headed toward downtown. She scanned both sides of the street, looking for something. I had no idea what it was, so I just sat back as the music changed to “Dammit”, by blink-182. An oldie, but a goodie.
    “Aha!” she said, nearly hitting a parked car. She put on her blinker and turned into a small parking lot at the end of the street. The building looked like it might have been an old church, with a steeple and a bell on top. The sign out front said something about a children’s art show. A gallery.
    “Come on, Picasso,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
    “Is he the only artist you can name?”
    “No. There’s…um…Monet.” She blanked out after that. “Shut up.”
    We walked up the steps to the gallery and Katie opened the door. It was quiet inside, but soft generic piano music came from hidden speakers.
    “Should we just go in?” Katie whispered.
    “The door’s open, so I think yes,” I said at normal volume, stepping around her. I was still a little buzzed from the scotch, so my steps weren’t as steady as they normally would have been. Katie took my arm and led me in.
    The building was painted all in white to accentuate the art and had tons of windows and good light fixtures. For a small place, it was set up really well.
    “Oh, this is so cute,” Katie said, dragging me to the right. From a quick glance, they had all sorts of things here, from finger paintings, to a table of pottery pieces to some little dioramas. The first piece was done by Olivia, age 6, and resembled a princess fantasy, if that fantasy were done by a strange little girl.
    The princess had a pretty pink dress and a sword in her hand and was plunging it into the heart of what I assumed was a dragon. A guy in armor lay on the ground, his eyes wide open in death. At least I thought so. Maybe he was just lying down for a minute. With his eyes open.
    “What do they teach girls these days?” I said.
    “What? Princesses can’t kill dragons?” she said, smacking my chest in outrage.
    I shook my