by Claire Adams
I avoided this — getting involved with people this way — because I wasn't willing to let someone have my heart at their disposal to do with whatever they wanted. It had only been a few hours since we were at the beach together, but it had probably been building the entire day.
I knew I said I was going to help him, but maybe he had misunderstood what I meant. Maybe I had misunderstood what he had meant in letting me do it. He had kissed me and asked me to stay the night, but just because those things had happened didn't mean that they had to happen again.
I wanted them to, but that was less important than what I had promised him on the beach. A knock on the door broke me out of my reverie. I wrapped myself in a towel and opened it, seeing Nate. He held something out to me.
"Here," he said, "I know you didn't carry any extra clothes with you." I looked down at his hand. It was a gray t-shirt. One of his. I took it gingerly.
"Thanks."
"Come on out when you're done. The food's almost here."
I agreed and closed the door, walking back to the mirror. I knew I hadn’t been with a lot of guys, but I wasn’t a child. If he didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be. If sex had been all he wanted, then he’d already gotten it. He didn’t need to have me around any longer if I’d already served his purpose for him.
I pulled the t-shirt over my head. It fit me a little bigger than the ones I typically wore to go to sleep. I walked out slowly and looked around the living room. He was in there, wearing boxer briefs and nothing else. He smiled when he saw me.
“I got you the same thing I got, an American burger and fries. I hope that’s okay,” he said. He was pulling the cloches off of hot plates of food.
“Nate,” I said, “you don’t have to do any of this. What happened between us doesn’t have to change anything.”
“Are you seeing someone?” he asked me.
“I’m not. That isn’t it. I want to help you, and I like spending time with you. I don’t expect anything in return. I just want to see you well again,” I said, tripping over my words.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m not going to ask you to stay here with me if you really don’t want to, but I want you, Abby,” he said.
My breathing slowed. Was it really that simple? He wanted me? But he was leaving. How could he tell me that, knowing that in a couple months he’d be back in LA and I’d still be here?
“Just stay with me, Abby,” he said, insistently. So what if he was going? I thought suddenly. He was here now. The connection we’d shared at the beach, the time we had spent together — it all had to mean something. It had to.
I walked over to the table and ate with him. We talked about how well his room had been restored since that morning and chatted about the places we’d gone that day, like a date.
When we were finished, it was still fairly early in the night, but I was tired. I thought for a second about asking him whether I could take the sofa bed, but reeled it in, not really willing to throw away an opportunity to be close to him again. His bed was really comfortable. I fell asleep next to him as the television quietly droned in the background.
Chapter Seventeen
Nate
I woke up like someone had just punched me in the chest. The room was dark and quiet. I had to take a minute to remember where I was because my mind felt like I was still asleep.
My skin felt clammy; I was soaking wet with sweat. I threw the covers off and tried to get myself up into a sitting position. Every move I made hurt like I'd been lying still for years. My heart was racing, and I felt like I was definitely about to throw up.
Fuck. Couldn't even do one whole day, huh? I should have known this was coming. I was still on my back. Pushing myself up, I realized I wasn't alone. Abby was asleep, facing me. As if this night could get worse. I tried to move quietly. I couldn't do it quickly because my body felt like I'd just run a marathon.
I needed a fucking dose. I was dying. That's what was happening. This is what death felt like. I'd almost gone an entire twenty-four hours without shooting. That was long enough. I was calling that a record. I'd get clean – as soon as I shot up just this one last time.
Where was my stuff? I couldn't remember. I couldn't think. Where the fuck had I put it? I stumbled into the living room. Was it in there? I couldn't see my kit anywhere. Was it even still there? I'd trashed the place the night before; what if it was gone? I went to a couch and threw the pillows on the ground, checking behind them. There was nothing on the piano or the dining table. I checked the shelves pushing the vases and decorations onto the floor, not caring whether they broke.
Nothing. Where the fuck was it? The bedroom? I couldn't go in there. Abby was still in there. She was asleep. She couldn't see me like this. My stomach was turning. I tried to get to the fridge, but switched streams halfway because I was going to be sick. I scrambled back into the room to the bathroom, barely making it before I started throwing up.
I puked my dinner into the toilet bowl, feeling my stomach cramp painfully.
Shit. That was new. I knew other people who had gotten the cramps and thrown up, but I hadn't stayed sober long enough before for it to be me. Look at that, new milestone, I thought.
I slumped against the toilet, flushing it. I felt exhausted. My heart was still racing, but my body ached and I was sweating. God, how awful would it have been for Abby to walk in right then? Yeah. We’d had sex and she was pretty into me, but this would probably cool her down real quick.
I pulled myself painfully back to my knees. Had I left it in here? I checked the tub and shelves, throwing the towels on the ground.
"Nate?"
Fuck.
"Go back to bed, Abby," I growled from the ground.
"Nate, what's going on?" she asked.
"I said go back to bed. Leave me alone." She came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.
"Nate, come back to bed," she said putting her hand back on my shoulder.
"Where's my kit?" I asked her.
"Your what?"
"My kit, Abby, don't play dumb. Did you take it? So I couldn't shoot up? That how you plan on helping me?" I demanded.
"Nate, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Tell me," I demanded.
"I don't know where it is," she insisted. She looked at my face, touching my cheek. I flinched away. "Have you been throwing up?" she asked. I ignored her question and tried to get up. "Nate," she called.
"Fuck off, Abby. Unless you're helping me find my kit, I don't want to hear it," I said.
I got up and left the room feeling bad for talking to her like that, but maybe she'd leave. She'd leave, and I wouldn't have to feel like a disgusting degenerate shoving the needle into my shoulder because my hands would be shaking too hard to get a vein without missing.
I got back out to the bedroom, starting with the bed. I ripped the covers off, throwing the pillows on the ground. I threw the cupboards open checking inside.
I was getting frustrated. I started on the couch, pulling all the cushions up. One of them caught the lamp on the second nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor.
"Nate!" I looked up seeing Abby in the bathroom doorway. The bathroom light was on behind her, so she looked like a ghost or something, like she wasn't really there. She came up to me. "Nate, stop," she said, taking the cushion I was holding from my hand. "You have to calm down," she said.
"Where's my shit?"
"You can't give up now, Nate; you've managed not to use the whole day," she said, putting her hands on my arms.
"Yeah, now we know my fucking limit."
"If you give up now, you'll have to start again from scratch," she said.
I was nauseated, and my heart was racing so fast I thought it was about to stop. Starting again from scratch meant not feeling like this right now, and recovery or not, I wanted to stop feeling like I was about to die.
"I can't fucking do it, Abby," I said.
"I said I was go
ing to help you."
"The only way you could do that is helping me find a vein that isn't fucking dead," I snapped. I saw her flinch a little. I was being an ass. I knew that, but I couldn't fucking do it. If I showed her it was useless to try and help me, she wouldn't have to waste her time trying to do it. She wouldn't have to fucking watch this anymore.
"I'm not leaving you alone, Nate," she said.
"Well, maybe you should," I said, knowing I was pushing her away. In the dim light from the bathroom, her eyes became glassy. She was crying. She shook her head. Shit. Leave, goddamnit. Leave me alone. Why wasn't she letting me destroy my life in peace?
"I know you're struggling right now, but this is the worst of it. It will get easier. All you have to do is ride it out. I said I'd be here for you, and I meant it," she said.
I sighed, feeling my body sag. I wanted to believe her. I really wanted to let her help me, but I didn't know what to do when someone was trying to look after me.
"Come on," she said. She took one of my hands and pulled me after her. I resisted a little, but let her do it. We went back into the bathroom. The shower was on, making the small room foggy and warm.
I watched her pull my t-shirt off and slide her hands under the waistband of my boxer briefs so they could slide down, too. "Come on," she prompted gently again. I followed her into the shower. The water was sort of hot, hotter than I would usually have it, but it felt good because I was hurting so bad.
I turned my face up into the stream. It felt good. Abby was running her hands over my shoulders and chest. We stayed there a while before she stopped the water, and we went back to the room. She had put a robe on, and I was in a towel. I let her lead me to the bed and make me lay back on the bed. I still wanted to shoot up, but I wasn’t feeling as nauseated. I was feeling sort of tired. The room was dark, but I could still see her moving around.
"Wait here," she said, getting off the bed.
"Don't leave," I said quickly. I started getting up off the bed.
"Stop moving," she said. She sat on the bed behind me, letting me rest my head on her lap. She ran a hand through my wet hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," I grumbled, looking up at her dark silhouette. She was stroking my hair. It felt nice.
“What can I get for you?” she asked.
“Heroin,” I said.
“What else?” she urged. I sighed. She wasn’t going to let me do it.
“Why are you still here?” I thought, saying it out loud. She didn’t say anything, and her hand slowed down a little in my hair. She moved a little under me, and I was scared she was actually going to leave.
I hadn’t meant it. I was just pissed, sick, and tired. People gave me what I wanted when I asked them to, but not her. Her kindness was throwing me for a loop. I didn’t know what to do when someone was nice to me without any real reason to be and didn’t have to be.
She didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything, either. I don’t know when it happened, but I must have fallen asleep because I woke up. Abby was gone. I sat up, I was groggy and sort of tired, but the pain from the night before was mostly gone, and I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up. I started getting up when I stopped, seeing a piece of paper with my name on it, handwritten.
I sat down to read the note.
Nate, I had to leave for work. I didn’t want to wake you. You did great last night; call me at the front desk when you wake up. Abby.
She stayed, I thought. Why was she even still talking to me? I remembered what I had said to her. I would have punched myself in the face if I was her. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I owed her an apology. And a thank you.
I looked for my phone to check the time before calling the front desk. The room was clean, I noticed; she must have arranged that, too. Already too much, I thought. I needed to start paying her or something. She probably wouldn’t take it, though, because that was the kind of person she was.
Too good for me. That might have been true, but if she had seen me last night and still wasn’t done with me, I wasn’t letting her go. I sat on the couch with the phone and called the front desk.
"Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Four Seasons Lanai, you're speaking to Abby. How may I help you?" she said picking the phone up.
“What did you tell housekeeping after they found my room trashed two days in a row?” I asked, smirking.
“Mr. Stone, I trust you’re fine this morning. How can I help you?” she said.
“What did I tell you about calling me that?” I said, laughing at her professional work voice.
“Yes sir, I can certainly make arrangements to take you around the island today. Come to the front desk when you are ready to leave.” I stopped. The fuck was she talking about? “Is there anywhere specific you would like to visit?” she asked.
Oh, of course, someone must have been listening to her. Her boss was probably there, and she wanted to make him think I was asking her to take me out again.
“Is your boss there? Let me talk to him,” I taunted her, smirking.
“We can definitely make the trip there and back before sundown,” she said, answering a question I hadn’t asked her. This was so funny. I didn’t know she had a sneaky streak in her.
“Is this your way of making me leave my suite again? Let’s go back to that beach we went to yesterday and fuck in the sunset again,” I said. I heard her giggle a little before clearing her throat.
“One hour? Of course, sir. Everything will be arranged,” she said before hanging up. One hour. More than enough time to shoot up before I have to leave, I thought. I still felt a little sick, and I had time. If I took just a little, she probably wouldn’t even be able to tell I was high.
I’d made it through last night, though. It would have been a shame to throw that away. How about it, I thought, do this one thing for once that you can be proud of yourself for. I put the phone down and in an hour was downstairs ready for my day with Abby.
Chapter Eighteen
Abby
"I could have sworn that we were sitting right here just last week as you told me how much you wished you didn't have to be the one who was, and I quote, ‘babysitting Nate Stone,’" Makani said to me as I hung the phone up.
I shot her an apologetic glance. I wasn't going to hear the end of this, and I knew it. She had managed to squeeze what had happened the night before out of me, and I knew I'd have something else to tell her when I saw her again that night. Provided we did actually see each other. Nate had gone from barely leaving his suite to completely monopolizing my time.
The thing was, I wasn't even mad about it. Part of the performance had been for Joseph's sake, to make him believe that I was going above and beyond as a proud member of the Four Seasons staff to accommodate a special guest. The other part had been for Nate, but mostly for me. I wanted to spend more time with him.
If I put the sex aside and just focused on Nate as a person, I liked him a lot. Last night had scared me, and his words had hurt, but I couldn't get over how it felt to watch him fight and win against something that loomed so large in his life.
He had fought, and he hadn’t given up, no matter how hard it had gotten. I could only imagine how hard it had been for him. He could have chosen the easy way out, staying sick, but he hadn’t, and that was extremely commendable. That right there told me about the kind of person that he was and the strength that he had even when he was suffering. Guess there was something to my fangirl crush, after all.
"Are you about to tell me something about being careful and not letting him get to me because this can't be permanent?" I asked her.
"Looks like I don't have to because you've already thought about it," Makani smirked. "I was about to say you owe me for all the hours you've made me man this desk alone." I smiled.
"Can I repay you in gratitude and goodwill?" I tried.
"How much of my rent can I pay with that?" she joked.
"How about a full play-by-play of what
happens today?"
"That's more like it. Go have fun," she said. "Your choice of partner could have been better, but you deserve to relax a little."
"Thanks, Makani," I said. I started for the back to get changed.
"Oh, Abby," she called.
"Yeah?"
"He is a guest, and he is going to leave. Just don't let yourself think that that day isn't going to come," she cautioned.
I nodded and went to the changing room. I wasn't going to forget. I knew that. I wouldn't have gotten myself into being his tour guide today if I had forgotten. This was...
It was a lot of things. I cared about Nate, and I wanted to help him with his addiction; and that meant the less time he had alone to think about using, the better. I was sure he didn't have sex with all his tour guides, but I didn't have sex with all the guests. We had something, a connection or whatever, but it didn't have to make things complicated.
Maybe we'd talk about it today. No, we definitely had to talk about it.
I got into a pair of shorts and halter top before making my way up to Nate's suite. I knocked on the door. We had just been on the phone, and he sounded like he was okay, not like last night. Still, I was nervous which Nate was about to come to the door. He pulled it open. He wasn't dressed. He was still in the same thing he had been wearing when I had left him: a towel. He ran a hand through his wet hair.
"Abby."
"Are you ready, Mr. Stone?" I asked, looking pointedly at the towel. Clearly, he wasn't. He opened the door wider letting me walk in.
"Thanks for telling your boss you wanted to take me out today," he said. "Listen. About last night… I was a mess."
"Mm-hmm, I was there. I remember," I said smiling. I wasn't mad, but he looked apologetic.
"I'm really sorry about what I said to you. I can't even say I was loaded or anything. I was an asshole last night."
"Don't apologize."
"I mean it, Abby. I-"
"Really, Nate. If I were mad, I wouldn't have asked to see you again today. Just forget about it. If you're really sorry, what you need to work on for me is getting up closer to sunrise than sunset," I said walking into the bedroom. "Have you eaten already?"