by Elena Monroe
There was no concern in her eyes after hearing my request. She looked inspired.
I weaved between hallways, casually trying to mimic defeat. I needed it to look like I failed in finding her. I spotted Hayley standing with Caden, both equally defeated for the same reason.
I took the opportunity to not even give them a reason to ask if I saw Jade anywhere. “How did you and Palmer do it? Being apart so long,” I asked Hayley.
“It wasn’t easy. We FaceTimed, texted like crazy, and just had to trust each other,” she answered.
I didn’t want to resort to some virtual relationship or navigate a long distance relationship. I really just didn’t want to miss her. Only the smallest part of me felt like she’d realize she was too good for me and that I wasn’t worth coming back for. Layla leaving brought up every buried feeling in me—all the unanswered questions about why the one person on this earth, who was built to love me, didn’t. Instead she carried me for nine months, went through labor, and gave me away to strangers. Apart from my birth mother, all I had as examples of “love” was Elizabeth… and Jade—more unstable women I used to replace my birth mom’s unstable love.
“I can’t do it. She’s leaving.”
Hayley wasn’t aware of the situation. I was surprised that no one told her yet. In our group, secrets didn’t exist. The weight of consuming so much alcohol when practically being sober for a year was hitting me hard. I could hear myself sound emotional as the words came out. “Layla is leaving Monday, and she won’t be back until after the new year.”
My hand grabbed for the cup in Caden’s hand pouring more liquor on top of the emotions seeping back between my words. I felt both pair of eyes analyzing my every move, every word, even my face for any odd expressions.
“You guys don’t get it. I’ve… I’ve never felt like this. I haven’t dealt with this kind… this… sober. You guys can laugh and tell me I love every girl, but it’s not true.”
Caden’s hands were hovering, like he was predicting I would fall, but I wasn’t even swaying. Was I? I held his shoulder just as a precaution. I was overly chatty. “I can’t even fuck her without being depressed. Thank god you interrupted before she realized I wasn’t getting stiff.” I never spoke this much and now suddenly I was overcompensating.
Caden handed Hayley the cup I stole from him, letting me politely know I was cut off. I didn’t blame him for making his voice significantly less judgmental and soft. I had a bad history with accusations. I clearly remember one time Palmer told me I was “over served” and “lashing out” at a party. I ended up throwing some paper weight on the mantle across the room before laughing hysterically at the damage I had done. Half the party left and the other half was too intoxicated to notice that wasn’t “normal” behavior.
My mind skipped over everything, until Caden pushed me onto my bed. I guess none of that mattered. I was exactly where I needed to be.
Once it was safe, no noises outside my door or shadows creeping in from under the door, I sat up and leaned against my headboard waiting. I wasn’t waiting for her but for what she’d bring me to keep the emotions down and numbing at a high.
Jade didn’t take long to tiptoe in, closing the door quietly by holding the door handle too long and not letting go until the door was sealed. She could sneak all she wanted, but I wasn’t apologizing for anything.
She didn’t sit on my bed. She pulled over the chair at my desk to the edge of the bed. My bed was familiar; it was where I came inside her, resulting in the child she aborted—another abandoned child before it could feel love. I guess the chair made sense after all, at least if we were avoiding having sex.
She leaned forward holding a small bag identical to the one Caden showed me earlier. “You sure you wanna do this? All that pointless counting amounting to even more pointless chips of sobriety.”
I wanted to ask why she left, where she went, and if she was even sober still, but I didn’t let myself. It was apparent none of those answers mattered now. I wasn’t some recovering addict on some high horse anymore. I was an addict, struggling to not take the easy way out of feeling the hard stuff.
“I’m sure,” sounded dry, as it rolled off my lips.
I watched her walk over to my desk lazily grabbing a book, Jane Eyre, and placing it on the bed between us. The pop of the bag’s safety seal unlocking echoed against the quiet. I watched the discolored powder as it spilled onto the classic novel. Just like Layla and I, separate realities trying to live together between the same pages.
She looked at me as she prepared the lines. “What happened to your sober act? Girlfriend problems? Not rated R enough? I could fix that. . .”
I thought I’d feel anger and snap to defending Layla, but I still didn’t feel anything.
“You’re not gonna stop asking. I know you…” I didn’t bother sitting up yet. I was still wrestling with taking this next step. “Layla is leaving for two months. So I basically jumped the gun for no reason. I shouldn’t have indulged her.”
She leaned down, taking the first sniff and looking up at the ceiling, like it would fall right back out of her nose if she didn’t. “So you wanna get high… because it’ll be long distance for two months? That’s new and desperate for you.”
I stopped lowering my head down towards the book, “Jade, just shut up.” I was close enough to smell the acetone, wafting me in the face. It wasn’t a smell you’d ever forget.
We kept eye contact, as my nose pushed against the powder, swiping the entire line up. I wanted her to watch how sure I was. I wanted her to see my mind numbing demeanor turn into heart numbing with one sniff.
She bent down again towards the book, and I leaned back, letting the rush soon wash over me.
“I’m not against this. You know I like high Ollie better, but I’m against it being about her. She’s just some girl.”
Her words echoed as I fell down a rabbit hole, feeling further away each minute.
I wish she was just some girl I decided to repeatedly fuck a few times.
I wish her smile and big eyes didn’t feel like a better high than this fabricated one.
I wish she wasn’t making me live without her for two months after getting closer to her than anyone else.
I wished a lot of things in this moment, but pushing a numbing agent up my nose wasn’t one of them.
Jade crawled her way up me, attempting to seduce me by kissing my defenseless spots—my throat and neck. I felt her hot breath when a small noise escaped her lips. She whispered against my skin between kisses, “I can… make you… forget her.”
Right now, that’s what I wanted.
I didn’t even realize Caden was standing a foot into my bedroom until I heard him yelling. His yelling seemed far away, like I was trying to hear through thick glass, muffled.
“What the fuck… are you doing?!”
I laughed, watching his anger take over every part of him from his words to his body’s slightest movement. He dripped in anger instead of disappointment. I could spot disappointment within seconds; it looked like Richard’s permanent expression for me.
All I could manage was laughing, even as he closed the door behind him, locking it. Jade rolled over, lying beside me, instead of settling for straddling my legs. The sound of the lock twisting stopped my laughter quickly. I watched him grab the book, like he hoped it offended me. I heard the toilet flush, and I knew he flushed away the fun. Little did he know, Jade was never dry and always had backups.
“Are you fucking stupid?! You’ve been sober a year! A whole year!”
I went from doing nothing but laughing to a fire feeding my anger. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed in case I needed to swiftly get up if this ended in blows.
“And? Your point? I’ve already gotten drunk a few times now. Wonder how that happened…” I heard myself blame him. I knew it wasn’t fair, but it would work.
He looked at me so betrayed. “This is my fault? Because I gave you a shot of jungle juice?! Are you fu
cking serious, Ollie? What if it wasn’t me who walked in, but Layla?! Then what?!”
I stood up, rapidly closing any space between us. Our faces were so close I was convinced our words would crash into each other violently. The thought of Layla walking in didn’t cross my mind, and it broke something inside me just imagining it.
“Don’t…” was all I said. He knew my limited response always meant anger.
He was being brave by continuing to piss me off. “Oh, you didn’t think that far, huh? Do you think Layla would forgive you after seeing cocaine on a goddamn book and Jade on top of you?”
The high was taking over my reactions forcing my hands to grasp his shirt and push him against the wall harder than I’d ever mean. “Don’t talk about her. Ever. Don’t say her fucking name.”
He knew it was a weak comeback, completely overshadowed by my actions instead. He started laughing, “What are you gonna do, Ollie? Hit your best friend? Do you think she’d forgive you for that too?”
My fists were so tight I thought they’d stay permanently clenched long past this moment. I let go of this shirt, breathing through the desire to hit his smug face that was talking about Layla like he knew her. I pushed him, but as soon as his body pushed off the wall, I was getting in his face again. “You don’t fucking know her. You don’t know anything about her or how she’d react. You know trivial shit anyone could guess. I know her.”
He looked past me, yelling at Jade, “Get the fuck out of my house.” She touched my arm when she walked by, but I didn’t take my focus off my best friend throwing Layla in my face. He grabbed her arm roughly stopping her from opening the door, “Stay the fuck off campus and away from Ollie, you selfish bitch.”
As soon as she was through the door he slammed it closed resuming back to me. He looked at me more calm, “Is this what you’re gonna do the whole time she’s gone? Get high? What happens when she comes back? Gonna hide it, like you did from Elizabeth, and fuck Jade secretly again?”
I sat down on the edge of my bed, realizing I didn’t think that far ahead. I was too high to think ahead of anything, except smiling at this feeling. I probably would have reverted back to old habits.
I rushed my own words, “I’ll figure it out. What the fuck do you care.”
He continued to block the exit in case I had any intention of leaving my room. “Because I’m the one who found you almost dead last time. Because you refuse to admit to yourself you’re falling for her in a very real fucking way, and you’re letting that denial destroy you.”
He was wrong. I did admit it to myself, and that’s how I got to the desire to numb everything. That’s why I finally gave in, and it was being ripped away by holiday break in our college schedules.
There was a small knock at the door, and Caden opened it only enough to reveal himself. “Is Oliver in there? I can’t find him.” I heard Layla’s voice and took big steps, pulling the door open despite his grip.
Caden started speaking before she saw me, “Layla, hey, we need to talk. You wanna go outside?”
The door opened enough for me to push into her eyesight taking her hands. I didn’t even have to think of an excuse for my absence. I was a pro. “I’m sorry babe. I slept off some alcohol. Too much, too quick.”
Caden didn’t leave. “Layla. Seriously. It’s important.”
He was annoying me and stealing her focus every time he spoke, as I dragged her to my bed. I kissed her like he wasn’t there at all. My lips were motivated, pressing hard against hers. I could taste the fruit flavored alcohol. I grabbed her hips, making sure our bodies were touching. Her mouth parted, letting my tongue push inside deepening our kissing.
I felt my dick stiffening against my pants just from her tongue tangling with mine. All I needed was to drown out the feelings, and I was back in action.
I pulled away, only enough to take my shirt off. I watched her bite her lip as her eyes tracked down my chest.
He still didn’t leave, “Layla.” I almost thought he was determined to stay and watch, if he couldn’t rat on me before I got my way.
I sat down on my bed pulling her with me, guiding her to straddle my lap. She relaxed on top of me, and I could feel the warmth between her legs press against my zipper. Every kiss, every movement created friction against my hard dick. She was already breathing heavily, when she pulled away to whisper, “Did he close the door?”
I peered around her to see Caden still leaning against the wall glaring at me. I looked around her better, making eye contact, “Are you going to fucking watch me make her come, bro?”
I felt her kiss my neck, just how I liked, and I realized my shy Layla would never keep going knowing he was still there. This wasn’t my shy Layla, but my intoxicated, brave new girl.
Caden only spoke to Layla: “Find me when you’re done.”
I realized when I pushed her down against my mattress and settled between her legs that we were both different people—both altered in this moment.
She was more comfortable each time she ended up below me with my hands grabbing at her curves. This time her comfort didn’t stem from gaining experience, but from the amount of liquid courage she consumed.
I had enough kissing, as I pulled away, leaning over her to reach the nightstand that housed the black box of condoms. I leaned back down over her. Between her legs, I adjusted myself, watching her squirm, as I ripped open the fragile packaging. I certainly had no issue reacting to her this time. I pushed the latex down on my length letting out quick, panting breaths from touching myself, even like this.
It made you numb emotionally, but physically, every touch felt so affecting. I was a raw nerve.
My head was still spinning; my body felt hotter than when I had my clothes on; and her legs rubbing against my sides was giving my whole body a sensation similar to being inside of her when I hadn’t yet done that.
I adjusted myself, letting my body lean deeper over hers, while resting on my forearms. Her knees rubbed against my ribs, and I groaned again. I cursed myself for letting that one escape, realizing she was going to notice I was ultra-sensitive compared to any other time. This was a different me, and I wasn’t playing it down expertly, like I usually did.
I could of came just listening to her whimper for me. I watched her bite her bottom lip harder than normal. She was holding back more whimpers and moans. Her hips squirmed against mine even though we were as close as we could be without me being inside her wetness.
She felt tighter, wetter, warmer even than ever before, as I slowly pushed myself between her legs. I could feel myself pushing her open as her hands clutched onto me harder. Confused as to why, I looked down at her, and it all became clear to me why this time was different.
Her arms slid around my neck, and her eyes looked so hopeful. She was moaning under me as my hips kept pushing against hers, not losing the pace, even though I was so distracted. She hugged my hard dick perfectly, making pulling out feel equally as good as pushing myself deeper.
I baited her into telling me and confirming my suspicions. My voice was out of breath, and my face contorted, like I was going to come at any moment. “Fuck. You’re wetter than normal.”
She immediately blushed, “Oliver. Ollie. I…” she paused to bite away another moan.
She never called me Ollie. This couldn’t be good. I tensed up above her, no longer relaxing the way I wanted to be.
She finally continued, “I… I think… I might be in…” I quickly pushed my lips against hers, not letting her admit it. I kissed her with so much passion that it probably didn’t help kill the fact that she was in love with me.
Her admitting that wasn’t going to help either us. She was still leaving for two months, being in love with each other didn’t change that.
My lips dragged against her neck every time I thrusted into her. For safety measures, I cupped my hand over her lips to keep her from confessing anything. I felt her back arch, easily turned on by me keeping her quiet.
I wasn’t going to l
ast long, and neither would she when we were both already significantly more turned on than normal before our bodies connected. Her lips were pressed against my shoulder, as I picked up the pace, sliding effortlessly in and out of her.
Suddenly I wasn’t moving against her anymore, but I was stuck in an older memory. I could feel the sensation of cold air hitting against my overheated legs and back. She was moaning more rapidly against me, and her legs were wrapped around my waist tightly. I didn’t prompt myself to talk, and I couldn’t tell if it was the memory, or I was actually talking out loud. I whispered in a husky tone, “You’ve gotta let go of my shirt baby. I’m too close.”
I heard her respond, “What…?” in a confused voice, soaked in moans. I didn’t bother clarifying; the high was talking.
I pushed myself higher above her, letting my one hand behind her hold me up. My other hand snaked around her holding her hips still against me, as I pushed myself as deep as I could go. She arched her back in a way I hadn’t witnessed before, sending me over the edge.
I couldn’t stop breathing heavily, even after I released her hips back down against the mattress. I was glad her orgasm sent her into silence instead of repeating what she originally wanted to tell me. I rolled off of her, laying down against the pillows next to her. The pillows were cold, despite the heat we just threw off, and she cuddled up to me, kissing my arm in appreciation of the orgasm I gave her.
I was too awake, too wired, too hot to lay in bed for the rest of the night. “Back to the party? I’m too awake.”
I made it sound simple, as she grabbed her panties and went to the bathroom to freshen up. It was far from simple. It wasn’t easy to make this high sound simple to someone who shouldn’t know.
I kept my arm around her shoulders, and I saw the time on my phone screen. I knew exactly where everyone would be without looking: the study for high/low.
Freshman year, we realized no one used the study at the Frat, so we made a pact that at every party we would meet at 1 AM in that very spot. I guess it was supposed to keep us connected, but we never drifted apart in the first place.