by Ashley Rose
I readjusted my sunglasses with a groan, wiping at the bridge of my nose where sweat had collected between my skin and the smooth plastic of my shades, and just as I began to turn over onto my stomach, I felt a shadow over me. I sighed automatically just from the relief of the warm rays being blocked, and I peered over my sunglasses to see Sam standing above me with a huge grin plastered on her face.
"What?" I giggled, puzzled as to what could have her so excited. We had just gotten to Mexico yesterday and I still remember the day vividly. In front of us, the ocean stretched for eternity. Around us, Spanish music floated through the air. In our drying clothes and still-damp hair, we ate junk food and talked. At some point we finished and went for a long walk in the sand. We picked up shells, laughed, and smoked cigarettes. Before I knew it, the sun was going down and we went back to the van. We lay side by side, stretched out on the blanket. When the sun dropped completely below the horizon, we let the moon illuminate us.
"Randy just got here...with a boy." Her brows wiggled with the last word. She was shorter than me by a foot, with large hazel eyes that matched her curly hair.
"Your brother is gay?" I gasped in fake shock with a grin and she just rolled her eyes.
"No, you freak! He brought a friiiiiend." The way she shimmied at me when she said the word, grinding it out for emphasis, I knew what she was inferring.
"Dammit Sam," I sighed. I felt a sweat bead trickle down from my brow and disappear into my hairline "The last thing I need is Randy trying to set—"
"He's hot," she cut me off matter-of-factly. Very matter-of-factly.
I sucked in a breath, my insides fluttering a bit involuntarily. but I was trying not to let it show. I covered it up with a bored sigh, rolling onto my stomach. "Then why don't you go after him?"
"Brother's friends are strictly off the market...but not for youuuuu."
There she was with that shimmy and emphasizing words again. Ugh.
"Sam," I groaned.
"Listen, you've been moping. We just got here two days ago, and I know you're all beat up over Tyler and trying to hide it, but you're not doing a very good job. And yes I'm calling your ass out on it, but dammit Leala it's 'cause I love you. I don't want you to be miserable on this whole trip! Have some fun. "
I groaned again and rolled onto my side, pushing my shades up onto my head to look her in the eyes.
"Okay, first, I'm not beat up over Tyler. Second, I am having fun. This...this is fun," I gestured to myself in my current state. If everyone could just live near the ocean, I think we'd all be happier. It's hard to be down about anything knee deep in the sand.
"You can lay out in Cali when we get home. C'mon, get up. The guys are heading over to the bar," she encouraged impatiently, her green eyes shining with flecks of brown and gold. The color I loved. The color of the earth.
"It's two in the afternoon," I said with another sigh as I flopped back onto my stomach, glancing at the time on my cell.
"So! They just got here. Come keep them company with me."
I didn't respond. I just closed my eyes and willed her to go away. But of course she didn't.
"Pleeeease, Leala."
Shit, her whining was always so pathetic.
I huffed out a defeated sigh. Meeting a new boy...what could it hurt?
"Fine...fine."
I can't say that I hadn't been watching him. God, I'd been watching him all night. Tucked away in the far corner of the bar, leaning up against the wall. Just watching as he sat at a table with the other guys, downing beer after beer, laughing.
And I watched him...the way he tipped his back when he laughed, the way his full lips pursed at the opening of his bottle, the way his throat slid up and down when he swallowed...
Jesus.
He'd been looking, too. It's not like I was a stalker or something but I'd caught him looking at me more than a few times. We knew we were here with the same group, we'd just conveniently been dancing around each other all night, never getting up the guts to face one another. Maybe because there was that weird attraction, that energy that buzzed between us when our eyes met. It made my stomach flip and warmth rise in my cheeks and down between my legs. God.
I turned my attention to the dance floor, watching groups and couples grind and rub on each other, cold drinks tipping and spilling down people's fronts and backs and onto the floor with the swaying of bodies and drunken arms in the air. Ah, summertime. It was a song. It was a season. I wondered if that season would ever live inside of me. And I wanted to be out there. Maybe if I did he would come up behind me, press his front to my back, and—
"Hey."
Shit! He came out of nowhere. I jumped and gasped at the sound of his voice and he grinned that crooked grin from the bar stool next to me, beer in hand.
I wanted to seem cool, older, more mature, like he didn't phase me. I wanted him to chase me. Shit, I wasn't in high school anymore, and I didn't wanna play games like I still was either. I thought I was such a hardass.
"Hey." But there I was, giggling and blushing like the eighteen-year-old that I really was. Dammit. I glanced over at the table he'd abandoned to see the other guys still laughing and clinking bottles, stealing a few glances now and then and I figured they'd all seen him come over to me. I wondered what he'd said to them before he got up. Had he been talking about me? "You left your little buddies high and dry over there."
He chuckled as he glanced over to them, and one of them raised his bottle with a smirk and he turned to smile at me. God, his smile could light up a room. The way his lips lifted upward. The way his one dimple crinkled. The way his teeth were perfectly aligned. The warm glow his happiness gave. His smile was like a ray of sunshine, and I wouldn't mind being sunburnt.
"Nah, they'll live," he replied.
"I feel kinda bad for 'em. Bros over hoes, right?" I asked coyly with a knowing smile. After that little exchange between him and the guys I knew he'd come over here just for me, and it wasn't a secret.
He leaned in close to me and I held my breath and fought the urge to just turn my head and kiss him. God, just kiss him hard and good and blame it on the alcohol. I could practically taste the salt on his lips, imagining each kiss like a summer wave breaking on an empty beach.
"Sometimes," he said it quietly, his voice deep and throaty against my ear, and I blushed as I chewed on my bottom lip. "So, you're Randy's-sister's-friend?" he asked as he sat back a bit, chuckling after he had stumbled across his words.
"You make it sound so complicated," I joked in an exasperated tone, flirting with him a little, and I grinned as I stirred my mixed drink, eyes fixed down upon it. Anything to keep me from staring at him.
"I'm just trying to get my connections right," he said lowly as he leaned in to me again, flirting back, and I wiggled a little on my bar stool to conceal the shiver that ran through my body.
"Well then, yeah, I guess that sounds about right." I finally met his intense blue eyes for a brief moment with a warm smile and he licked his lips, eyelids sagging with lust. Or maybe it was the alcohol. "So I guess that would make you Sam's-brother's-friend?" I offered nervously when he didn't speak, intimidated by his gaze. His eyes were the blue of a water so deep that you were afraid to jump in, but you were still tempted to.
"Yeah...that sounds about right," he slowly echoed my previous response playfully, tongue running along the inside of his mouth. Jesus. I would normally slap a guy for looking at me the way he was looking at me, all predatory and whatnot, but something in me really didn't want him to stop. He seemed...dangerous, but safe. I felt like I could do or say anything with him and he would keep my secrets, but at the same time I was almost too intimidated by him to even speak in the first place.
So I didn't. I just sighed and turned my eyes back to my drink, wrapping my hand closest to him around the cup, other hand stirring it absentmindedly with the black short straw. And then I saw it out of the corner of my eye. His tattooed hand, the backs of his fingers brushing against the top
of my hand, that hand that was around my cup, and I squeezed harder around the glass to keep it steady. I could feel him watching me, gauging my reaction, and I tried not to flinch but my mouth turned up in a grin when I felt his breath across my neck as he laughed. He laughed at my attempt to keep a straight face.
I turned my face to his and he was there, right there so close I could smell the beer on his breath and my cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. Damn, it was too much. I had to get away before I did something really stupid with a complete fucking stranger. I hated to leave him hanging, but this was part of my personal self-preservation. I knew if I gave in to him this soon it would all be downhill.
So I gave him a small smile and slipped off of my bar stool, making my way toward the crowd on the dance floor.
"Hey Randy's-sister's-friend!" he called out after me just before I reached the mob of sweaty, swaying people and I smiled so big I was glad my back was to him because I would've really embarrassed myself otherwise.
I turned slowly, lowering my eyes at him a bit coyly, a smirk tugging at my mouth when I saw him looking at me with that same hungry gaze, a small smile playing across his lips.
"I'm Alex," he shouted across the space between us, voice barely loud enough to hear over the music. He grinned and licked his lips as he awaited my response and I almost wanted to just step back over to him and talk some more. But I knew our next meeting would be twice as rewarding if I could just keep him hanging on, just a little bit...
"Leala," I answered simply, and turned again, disappearing into the crowd.
25
I've been in rehab for three weeks. Plus the two weeks at detox. Five weeks without him. God, I never imagined I could do it.
Oh, and six weeks without the drugs too. But for some reason that thought is second after Lex.
I finally don't feel weak physically and I enjoy walking around outside in the crisp November air, leaves crunching under my feet from the trees on the grounds outside of the center. I can feel my body changing. Just small things, like my jeans not hanging so embarrassingly loose on my hips, and my bones not feeling like they dig into the mattress when I try to sleep at night. I'm feeling healthy and things are starting to become a little less fuzzy in my head.
There's an uncommon array of people in here with me, and I've become friends with all of them. You recognize the possibility of your own demise in the lives of these other people. You're doing the same thing they are, but you can't see it in yourself. However, you start seeing all of these tragedies and potential miracles in other people. It's a real eye—and heart—opening situation.
But it's still a battle. God, it's a battle every hour of the day.
After a couple of visits with my counselor and spilling my guts about Lex, I was given a dual diagnosis for chemicals and co-dependency, which pretty much sums up to me not being allowed visitation for the first phase of treatment. Thirty fucking days. I have permission for phone calls but I usually call his personal phone because I know he won't answer, especially if he doesn't recognize the number, and I just listen to his voicemail before hanging up. I think talking to him would be too hard because I would want to see him even more, but I know I can't. Not yet.
But as soon as I get released for my first visitation, my stomach is trembling as I dial the number from the community phone at the clinic. I don't even call my fucking parents, or my sister, because he...God, he is the only person I want to see.
It rings twice. "Hello?" The tone in his voice tells me that he doesn't recognize the number. I smile when I hear his voice, I almost laugh. I almost cry. I feel everything all at once. Fuck, I've missed him.
"Hey Lex." My voice almost breaks just saying his name.
"What are you doing calling my business phone?"
I can instantly hear the smile in his voice, and I laugh a little, a wave of warmth washing over me, calming me. "It's good to hear from you, too," I quip sarcastically and he laughs. That laugh that I love.
"Fuck, how long has it been?"
"Thirty damn days," I drag out each word and I hear him sigh.
"I miss you," he breathes and a lump forms in my throat. "I've been calling your phone."
I laugh at his frustrated tone. "I don't have it you idiot."
"Oh shit, I didn't even think about that." He groans, and I laugh again. "You doing okay in there?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah...yeah, I'm good," I answer confidently, and I know he's smiling when he replies.
"Good. That's real good."
I hesitate. "So, listen, I'm past the first phase of treatment, you know, and I'm allowed to have visitors now, so I was thinking maybe if you wanna—"
"Can I come tomorrow?" he offers anxiously before I can even finish, and I grin like it's Christmas morning.
He wants to see me...
"Yeah, tomorrow would be great."
26
"Shit, shit, shit..." Lex mumbles, stumbling over his feet as he tries to pull on his new sneakers, glancing at his watch again. Visitation starts at 6:30 and it's 6:42. He had wanted to be on time because he knows he only has an hour to visit. And now not only is he late, but—
"Yo, Lex!" Fabian comes through the front door without even knocking and he lets out a long irritated groan.
"What the fuck do you want? Make it quick," he replies as the door shuts, tightening the laces on his shoes, but not tying them.
"Where you headed, man?" Fabian eyes him curiously.
"Uh, nowhere. I just got shit to take care of, you know...errands and shit," he mutters, stumbling a bit on his words. The last thing he wants to do is tell Fabian where he's really going.
"Well, I got a deposit. And I need some more shit."
"Fuck, I don't have anything bagged off the scales right now. I've been running a little behind."
"What the fuck, Lex? You need to get your shit together. I need some more shit, I still gotta make a few stops before we call it a night. Go get it from the back."
"Man, I have shit to take care of."
"Whats more important than getting this money, Lex? You've been slacking lately, and all of us are bustin' our asses to keep you complaint-free from customers. You should be happy to send my ass back out there with more shit while you lay up on yours in the meantime."
"Okay, fine! I'll fucking get it." Lex trudges to the back room with Fabian on his heels. He groans and checks his watch as he stands over the table littered with white and green, shifting through the baggies surrounding his electronic scale, quickly moving and sorting things.
Fabian nudges him with his elbow, grinning. "Why are you all draped up? You got a hot date or something? New pussy now that your girl is—"
"You can shut your fucking mouth before you even say what I think you're about to say," Lex cuts him off dryly, his face stony with rage as he turns abruptly to face him, his chest swelling as if he's ready to fight. And Fabian stops dead, swallowing the lump in his throat and stuttering a bit.
"Sorry, man. I just thought that—"
"Well, you thought fucking wrong," Lex barks before turning his focus back to weighing and measuring, trying to end the conversation, mostly to get this business over with so he can try and make it to visitation, but also because he doesn't want to mix talk of business and personal shit with the boys. To them, nothing is more important to business, and it's all about loyalty. But lately Lex doesn't know what's important to him, and it's fucking him up because he's having to run around like he lives a double life or something. The boys don't understand his feelings, and hell, he's not even sure if he does anymore.
"Are you okay, man?" Fabian narrows his eyes at him curiously.
"I'd be better if you'd shut your damn mouth," he answers flatly, quickly bagging the coke, stealing a glance down at his watch again with a sigh.
He jumps when his phone rings, the business phone, and he cringes when he sees the number on the screen. Of all the times, why now? He knows he can't answer, not with Fabian in the house, but it's the bus
iness phone. He always takes the calls.
He eyes Fabian nervously. What kinda fucked up loyalty test is this?
"What the hell, Lex?" I mutter under my breath as I listen to his phone ring and ring before his voicemail catches the call. It's already 7:00 and he swore he would be here right when visitation started.
Addicts can't be trusted...
The words ring in my ears, driven into my brain over and over from group sessions and I try to force them out, try to convince myself that Lex is different, but he's not proving that point right now. Not when I've been waiting for him for thirty minutes and he won't even answer his damn phone to tell me he's coming.
I don't want to be mad at him. I really don't. But it hurts so much because I haven't seen him in two months. Two fucking months.
If roles were reversed I would be busting at the seams to see him. I figured he would be a little more excited to see me. But now I don't even know if he's coming. And as I sit and pick a piece of lint from my thin sweater I feel stupid for taking so long to get ready this afternoon, my hands practically trembling for the past hour just in anticipation of seeing him walk through the door, hugging him, just feeling everything that I feel at the mere sight of him.
7:15.
I sigh dejectedly and head back down the hallway toward my room.
What a fucking waste.
"God, please let me in, just let me see her. Please," he mutters under his breath as he whips his truck quickly into the parking lot and tries to jerk his keys from the ignition almost before he can get his truck into park.
He swings the door opened and closed and jogs up to the front door of the enclosed porch area of the house. He stares at the call box for a puzzled second before pushing the button to ring the front desk, glancing down at his watch and cursing under his breath before hugging his arms around his body as the cold wind cuts through his thermal shirt.
"What's the patient's name?"