I could have confessed that plan, and my suspicions that maybe, for whatever reason, we decided to go after Matt that night, and Matt killed Savvy in self-defense. And then he let everyone think that I did it as a giant fuck you to me.
I wouldn’t blame him, honestly.
But, the fear. The look in his eyes when he asked me to go to my parents’。 If that fear was because he thought I was going to try to kill him （again?）， he would have told the police the truth. I can’t think of any reason that Matt wouldn’t go to the police if we’d tried to kill him that night. The truth would have mattered, for him.
Ben is staring at me expectantly.
“I wouldn’t focus too much on Matt,” I say, finally.
“Seriously?”
“I don’t think he did it.”
“Seriously?” It’s the baffled word of someone who thinks I should know better. Seriously, Lucy? He hit you! He points to his cheek, which is red.
“It’s your podcast, man, I’m just telling you what I think.”
He lets out a long sigh. “If you want to know the truth, I can’t figure out a motive. I think what Kyle said about them maybe sleeping together is bullshit.”
“That is definitely bullshit.”
He touches his cheek and winces. “Matt’s still a dick, though.”
“You should put ice on that.”
“Meh.”
I go to the fridge and pull a handful of ice from the freezer. I wrap it in a paper towel and walk over to him, holding it out.
“I think it’s fine,” he says.
I sit down next to him and put the ice to his face.
“Ow.”
“Just for a couple minutes. Or are you hoping it swells so you can take a picture and put it on Twitter?”
A smile slides across his face, and I can’t help the one that crosses mine as well.
He takes the ice from me and presses it to his cheek. We sit in silence for several moments that are not quite comfortable.
Then he tosses the ice on the coffee table, leans over, and kisses me.
I’m in his lap almost immediately, his hands under my dress and on my thighs. I can’t remember why I thought this was a bad idea. This is a great idea. This is the best idea I’ve had since arriving in this cursed city.
He pulls my dress down around my waist, his hands on my breasts. I unbutton his pants. I’d like to blame the vodka for that decision.
And I’d like to blame the whiskey for letting him yank off my underwear so we can have sex right there on the couch.
But that would be a lie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LUCY
I wake early, before the sun. Ben is asleep beside me on his stomach, his hair disheveled and falling across his eyes. My head hurts.
I sit up slowly. I’m in his bed, naked, because after having sex on the couch he pulled me into his bedroom and we had sex in here too.
An image of me smothering him with a pillow flashes across my vision. That’s pretty standard for me waking up with men. It would be so easy to kill a sleeping man.
“I still vote strangulation for this one,” Savvy whispers. I shake the voice away.
I find my dress on the floor, and my underwear in the living room. It’s ripped, so I toss it in the trash on my way out.
I’m outside before I remember that my car is still at the bar. I debate calling the one Uber driver, but he’s probably asleep, and it’s only about a mile down the road. I start down the sidewalk, hoping a strong breeze doesn’t blow up my dress and expose my ass to the world.
It’s hot, even just before sunrise, and sweat trickles down my back as I walk.
I wasn’t nearly drunk enough last night to blame my choices on the alcohol, which was honestly shit planning on my part. Should have gotten wasted. Then at least I’d have an excuse.
But, no excuses. We didn’t even use a condom, which is really just the icing on my bad-decision cake. I’ve had an IUD for years, so there are no smug babies in my immediate future, but who knows where Ben has been sticking that thing. He fucks like he gets around.
A little podcast souvenir. I should get a T-shirt: I was the subject of a true crime podcast and all I got was this T-shirt and gonorrhea.
My car is still, thankfully, in the parking lot, and I drive home to a dark, quiet house.
I walk upstairs and close my door softly, change my clothes, and climb into bed. Early morning sun is filtering in through the blinds, and there’s a text from Ben on my phone. I ignore it and close my eyes.
* * *
My headache is gone when I wake the second time, and I’m starving now. I trudge downstairs. No sign of Mom, which is a relief. I don’t need to add that to my hangover. I smear some cream cheese on a bagel and then hurry back upstairs.