Euphoria (Book Boyfriend Series 3)

by Erin Noelle

  Sighing, I looked at the side of the bed she laid on the night before, where for a few short minutes I had tasted her sweet flesh against my lips once again. I didn’t want to accept it would be the last time I would hold her so intimately, despite the reality it most likely was. I wanted so badly to go after her, to beg her one last time, but in spite of my complete mental and physical breakdown, I still held some semblance of pride. A few minutes after she left, I thought I heard crying in the hallway, but I resisted the urge to see if it was her. It absolutely killed me to see her cry. Even knowing it was her decision to walk away, I still hated she was distraught.

  A knock on my door pulled me from my depressing thoughts. Both Marcus and Cruz were standing there with concerned looks on their faces as I threw the door open.

  "Come on in to the suite of despair," I said with a forced laugh. I motioned them in with my hand and walked toward the kitchenette. "Can I grab y'all a drink?"

  I reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels and three rocks glasses without waiting for an answer. I poured three double shots and slid them each a glass.

  "No," Marcus said firmly as he slammed his hand on the countertop.

  I looked up at him, confused. "No? What's your deal, dude? You've been nothing but a dick since you've gotten here."

  "Are you serious, Rat? I just flew halfway across the country, on Christmas no less, to see my baby brother lying in a coma in a hospital bed because he overdosed! And you're going to ask me what my fucking problem is?" His face was beet-red as he lectured me. "You really need to take a step back and reevaluate your situation. You've had your head so far up that girl's ass you don't know what the hell's going on. Ever since she came into your life, you've completely lost all sense of reality. And yet today she has fucked you over once again, because here you sit wallowing in your sorrows while she just skipped out of the lobby kissing emo boy."

  "Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" I screamed at him. "Ever since the day she walked into Empty's, my life has finally made sense. I was doing all this shit before she was around, and none of you seemed to care then. She makes me want to be a better person; can't you see that?"

  He slid the still full glass back toward me and turned around to leave. "You need help, little brother," he said as he walked to the door. "And I hate to break it to you, but your precious little angel can't fix this. As a matter of fact, she's really no angel at all."

  I looked up at Cruz, who had been silent throughout. I was so livid I could barely speak. I assumed it was his turn to pile on, but instead, he just followed Marcus out the door without saying a word.

  I looked down at the three glasses in front of me. I knew I had a problem; I knew I needed to push them away, but I couldn't do it alone. A mixture of emotions coursed through my body—rage, despair, sadness, frustration, and most of all loneliness. There I stood all alone, and yet once again, my old friend Jack was there to pick me up. I hurriedly downed all three drinks, allowing the warmth of the whiskey to flow freely through my veins and numb the cold, empty feeling away.

  As I slammed the final glass onto the countertop, I mumbled to myself, "She is too an angel. She's my angel."

  Scarlett

  Ash and I spent the rest of the afternoon and night in my bed, only getting up to use the bathroom and get food. We made love several times around watching some old movies, but neither of us ventured into deep conversation. Several times, I found myself wondering how Mase was doing or when he was coming home, but each time I did, I consciously pulled my thoughts back to my surroundings. I didn't think Ash noticed anything wrong or off, but each time my mind began to wander, I would curl up into him and kiss him to remind me of why I'd made the decision I had.

  The next morning, I awoke early as the sun came streaming through the window. I tried lying there, willing myself back to sleep, but to no avail. I decided to get up and cook breakfast for the boys… a little way of showing gratitude for them coming to get me. I threw on some yoga pants and a thermal top, put my ear buds in, and quietly made my way to the kitchen.

  My cooking skills were mediocre at best, but breakfast was something I could actually do, which was most likely why Max and I ate breakfast for dinner pretty regularly. Luckily, we had all the ingredients for what I wanted to prepare, and after I got out all the bowls and skillets I needed, I got right to work.

  I put my iPod on random and allowed the tunes to set the pace for my cooking. Bob Marley's unmistakable voice was the first to flow through my speakers, and I couldn't help but dance around with a goofy grin on my face as his infectious lyrics reminded me to not worry because every little thing was going to be all right.

  I quickly lost myself in the task at hand, cracking open eggs and frying up bacon, while I tried to stay somewhat quiet as Ash and Max continued to sleep. I was getting close to finishing everything, when a song came on I didn't even realize I had in my music library. About halfway through it, I stopped and looked at my phone to see who and what it was—"The Last Time” by Taylor Swift and Gary Lightbody.

  I restarted it so I could really focus on the lyrics, and I couldn't help but think how relevant it was to Ash's and my situation, except I should've been singing the guy's part. I realized this really was the last time he was going to take me back if I walked away from him or put someone else in front of him; this was the last time I had to prove to him I chose him. I had to figure out a way to get over Mase and focus on Ash.

  When I sat down and thought about it logically, there really never was a choice. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on Ash he was destined to be in my life. Even if I didn't believe in fate and all that, Ash had so much to offer me. He was incredibly smart and working toward a promising career in astrophysics, he was unarguably good-looking, we had common interests in music and art, and most importantly, he was in love with me and treated me like the most precious thing in the world. He was undoubtedly the most logical choice. The only problem was convincing the part of my heart that still loved Mase of that.

  I was so lost in thought I didn't even hear Ash get up and join me in the kitchen. He slid his arms around my waist from behind as I stood at the stovetop, and then softly kissed his way up my neck to my earlobe as he greeted me.

  "Good." Kiss. "Morning." Kiss. "Beautiful." Kiss. "Butterfly."

  He then pulled my lobe in between his lips, sucked lightly, and nipped at it with his teeth. I closed my eyes and moaned in delight, forgetting the internal debate I'd been having just minutes before.

  "Morning yourself, sleepyhead," I said teasingly, as I spun around in his arms.

  "Sleepyhead? It's not even eight in the morning," he retorted as he kissed the tip of my nose. "You should still be in bed."

  "I couldn't sleep any longer, so I thought I'd make breakfast."

  He chuckled as he looked around the kitchen at all the pots and pans and the sink full of dishes. "Breakfast or a feast? Who are you expecting, the entire Texans football team?" He grabbed a piece of bacon from the cooling rack and shoved it in his mouth.

  "No, I just couldn't decide what to make, so I made everything," I explained.

  "What's this about the Texans football team?" Max asked groggily as he emerged from his room with his hair sticking up and out in every possible direction. "And what smells so good?"

  "Morning, Max. It's probably the disappearing bacon," I said cheerfully, swatting at Ash's hand as he stole himself a second piece and one for Max too.

  "You two sit down and I'll bring everything to the table," I instructed them. Obligingly, they both plopped themselves down in the dining room chairs and waited for me to serve them.

  Twenty minutes later, we had all stuffed ourselves with ham and cheese omelets, French toast, hash browns, sausage, and, of course, bacon. We all sat there for several minutes silently, in food-induced comas. I looked back and forth between Ash and Max's smiling faces and felt grateful to be sitting there with them after everything that happened.

  Finally, Max stood up, looked at Ash, a
nd asked, "Is it too early to kill people?”

  Laughing and shaking his head, Ash replied, "It's never too early to kill people." He turned to me and asked, "Do you mind if I play for a bit? I'll help you clean up in a little while."

  I glanced at the kitchen and groaned; it looked like a bomb had gone off in there. I didn't feel like tackling it just then anyhow. I smiled brightly at him and said, "Nah, go ahead. I'll make us all some fresh coffee and then I'll read a little. We can clean later."

  After brewing a fresh pot of coffee and taking the guys their cups, I curled up on the couch next to Ash and dove into Emerge and followed Laney Walker in her search for love. Little did I know how much I would connect with her as first Evan and then Dane stole my heart like they did hers. At sixty-six percent, I had to put the book down. My stomach was tied in knots and I thought I was going to be sick. Any progress that was made, as little as it may have been, in regards to me forgetting Mase had been demolished. Laney couldn't have summed it up any better than when she thought "absence makes the head dizzy and fills the heart with aching bewilderment." My head felt like I had just gotten off the spinning Mad Teacups and my heart was being tossed around in the darkness of Space Mountain.

  I sat my Kindle down on the couch and excused myself to take a shower, giving Ash a quick kiss before leaving the room. I needed to pull myself together and get a grip on reality. Standing in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, I reminded myself, "This is the last time, Scarlett. Don't tempt fate."

  Six

  Leader of the Broken Hearts—Papa Roach

  Where Are You Now—Mumford & Sons

  Mason

  Three days after I checked myself out of the hospital, I found myself on a plane heading back to Houston… alone once again. Marcus left Miami the same day he stormed out of my hotel room. He sent a text on his way to the airport saying that since I was obviously fine and didn’t need his help or advice, he needed to get back to Empty’s. As my only living relative, and for as close as we once were, I thought it was pretty shitty of him to leave that way, but I wasn’t really surprised. I was quite used to being deserted by those who supposedly cared about me.

  Cruz called me to let me know the rest of Jobu’s Rum had gone back to Austin to play some smaller local gigs while I went to rehab. Even though I knew I had a problem, I didn’t really think it was necessary for me to check in to a live-in assistance center, but Jag didn’t give me much of an option. He told me if I wanted to stay on as a client of the Donovan Group and have any chance of touring with VanderBlue again, I would spend six weeks in-house at The Right Step Center and then another four to six of outpatient care. He required I be sober for twelve weeks before he would even think about booking another show for me.

  Groaning to myself as I thought about the upcoming three months of hell, I leaned back in my seat as the plane began to taxi down the runway. As much as I tried to not think about her, it seemed I couldn’t go more than about five minutes without wondering where Scarlett was at that moment or what she was doing. Unfortunately, those thoughts normally ended up with me envisioning her lying in Ash’s arms, which sent a surge of pure envy through me. I had no idea how to even begin getting over her, especially if I had to do it sober. I wasn’t sure how much I would see her once I was back in Houston, if she would come visit me at the center, or if she was just done with me entirely. My chest physically hurt at the thought of never seeing her again. Despite everything, she still owned me, body and soul, and unfortunately, she didn’t want either.

  An hour later, as the flight attendant sauntered down the aisle with the drink cart, I didn’t even think twice about ordering the whiskey from her. After all, it was my last few hours of freedom before I would be basically put in prison, so I might as well enjoy and live up to the addict everyone made me out to be. I handed her my credit card in return for the tiny bottle of liquid gold, and I laughed aloud at the size of it.

  “What’s the maximum number of these I can buy at one time?” I asked her in all seriousness.

  Apparently, it was three, so I of course bought three. I drank them all straight from the bottle, not even bothering with the glass of ice she sat on my tray table. As I guzzled them in three gulps, I heard someone snicker from across the aisle. I turned my head to see who found my antics so amusing and surprisingly found myself looking in the eyes of an attractive woman, who I guessed to be in her early thirties.

  “Are we celebrating or forgetting?” she asked in a sultry voice as she shamelessly looked up and down my body.

  I smirked at her, attracted by her boldness. “Oh, we are definitely forgetting,” I answered. “Unfortunately, there’s not enough alcohol on the planet to make me forget completely.”

  She twisted her body in her seat so she was better facing me and, not coincidentally, giving me a better view of her amazing rack. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, which drew my gaze down to her toned calves and thighs that were on display, barely covered by a black suit skirt. My pants instantly felt tighter as my cock swelled while I took her in. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, allowing me to enjoy the view, and as my eyes travelled back up her body and met hers again, she grinned knowingly and unapologetically.

  “Sometimes forgetting isn’t the answer, hun. If you forget completely, then the lesson that was to be learned is lost and the pain and heartache were for nothing,” she said matter-of-factly. I didn’t respond immediately, as I let her words sink in. “By the way, my name is Heather,” she continued as she offered me her hand. “I apologize if I’ve overstepped, but I’m not one to sugar-coat situations, and you look like you’ve been through hell recently.”

  I took her dainty hand in mine and shook it. “I’m Mason; it’s nice to meet you, Heather. And you have no idea. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I’m still there,” I replied with a chuckle.

  She nodded understandingly and looked at the empty bottles in front of me. “Well, only you can get yourself out of there, and I hate to break it to you, but those are only gonna make you sink farther down.” She exhaled loudly as she turned to face the seat in front of her, and mumbled under her breath, “Believe me, I know.”

  I got the feeling she didn’t want to further discuss her last comment, so I changed the subject to why she had been in Florida. Over the following hour, we discussed the pros and cons of warm weather and cold weather vacations and then listed all the places we wanted to visit in our lifetime. It was nice to not think about anything serious for a little bit, and once I got over my initial reaction to her attractiveness, I found it refreshing to have a conversation with a beautiful woman that wasn’t sexually stimulated. Maybe I wasn’t as big of a douche as I thought I had become.

  The end of the flight came quickly, and after collecting our luggage at the baggage claim area, I thanked Heather for the company and wished her well. As I watched her walk away, appreciating her long legs once more—after all, I was a red-blooded male and would have to have been blind to not notice—I realized I would probably never see her again in my life, but her words about making the hurt worth it and not forgetting the lesson learned would stay with me forever. Unfortunately, I was still searching for the lesson in the midst of all of the anguish and despair I endured over the past couple months.

  Shaking my head as I cleared my thoughts, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked outside in the crisp, clear night to grab a taxi. I wasn’t due to check myself in to the rehab clinic until early the following morning, but I knew going to my empty apartment would only bring back memories of Scarlett and the short time she and I lived there together. The last time I had been there was the morning I returned to tell her I couldn’t live without her and to ask her to move to Austin with me… the morning I found her and all her things gone for good.

  I gave the driver the address for the center, knowing if I spent one more night alone, I would just end up, at minimum, drinking my sorrows away. Chances were, I’d also find someone to keep me company and I
’d end up regretting my actions in the morning, just like I did with all the others. No matter how much I drank or what drugs I smoked, snorted, or swallowed, they weren’t my angel and all paled in comparison. Thirty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of the white building I would call home for the following forty-two days. I paid the driver, grabbed my bag, and slowly made my way through the front doors. The woman sitting behind the main desk looked up and smiled brightly as I entered the lobby area hesitantly.

  “Good evening! Can I help you, sir?” she asked cheerfully.

  Taking a deep breath, I acknowledged the multitude of emotions running through me, primarily fear and anxiety, but a sliver of hope kept one foot moving in front of the other until I was standing directly in front of her.

  “Hi, I’m Mason Templeton, and I’m here to learn my lesson.”

  Scarlett

  Two and a half weeks. It had been seventeen days since I walked out of Mase’s hotel room, and I had heard nothing from him or his friends. I had absolutely no contact. I was about to lose my mind if I didn’t find out where he was or at least find out if he was okay. After the conversation in the hospital room, I knew Marcus didn’t care for me, which was putting it lightly, so I really didn’t want to call him to get an update. Truth be told, he’d probably cuss me out and hang up the phone on me. I refrained from contacting Cruz, because… well, I really didn’t know why. I guessed I just kept hoping Mase would call me and let me know what was going on, but I finally accepted that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t sure if I should take that as he didn’t want to talk to me or if he thought I didn’t want to talk to him. I absolutely hated not knowing.

  In addition, Ash and I had still not talked about the entire Miami fiasco. We had come back home and just swept the entire event under the rug, pretended it never happened. Things were good between us. We were getting along great, but Mase’s name was never brought up. I tried several times to begin the conversation, but I always chickened out, because I hated thinking about causing issues between us when things were going so smoothly.