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It wasn’t only my cum and her tears that were washed down the drain in that shower.
I feel doors banging shut up and down the length of this hall, hear whispers as people pass at my back, but I don’t care what they say about the junkie hockey player. I don’t really give a fuck what anyone says about me. Thinks about me.
Except for her.
Sucking in a sharp breath, opening my eyes, I rap my knuckles against the door. Silence now beyond it. My head spins, and I think of pills, of powders, of needles, razors and blood. And I wonder if she’ll do it all with me.
Lose herself with me.
Me with her.
The two of us together.
Oblivion could be a beautiful thing if we weren’t lost in it alone.
There’s movement beyond the wooden blockade separating us, like shuffling knees on the rough carpet. I could use my key, the door probably not even locked anyway, but I don’t, slowly, finger by blanched finger, I release my hold on the frame, take a step back from the door. My eyes never leaving the wood, I trace the grains, the darker lines, deeper colors. Studying it as I listen to my pulse pound in my ears, my breathing too hard and too quick, chest heaving with every breath.
Anticipation.
To see her.
To do something.
All of it confusing inside my head, but after last night, what we did, what I orchestrated. Knowing full well that Hendrix and Raiden alike were not happy about it. But they are loyal, to a fault. I wish they weren’t so catering to me since I’ve been back. I wish my brother had never seen her, that Flynn never looked into her. I wish that I’d hidden her better, kept her safe, kept her just for me.
“Oh, fuck no,” the blond from the dorm opposite ours half screeches as she opens the door. “Sleep somewhere else,buddy,” she clucks her tongue, throwing the door in my face, but I place my foot over the threshold, the flimsy door ricocheting back in towards her. “Lynx!” she whines, stomping a foot. “Get the fuck out, you’re not welcome here.” Her arms are flung wide, blocking the opening.
The room is dark beyond, the lights around the window aglow, but I can’t see anything with the way she holds the door, shielding her friend.
It makes my heart happier, knowing Poppy’s not alone, but it thuds harder with pain all the same.
“Let him in,” it’s another female voice, not the one I”m aching to hear, but it’s familiar all the same.
“Emma,” I say her name with a thread of relief.
She's a smart girl, when she isn’t high, we shared a couple classes last year, a few too many lines, too, but she’s sensible, mostly.
“What?!” the blond before me half-snarls as she whips around, still barring the door to glare at her friend.
But Emma isn’t looking at her, her dark eyes are lifted over the blond’s head of thick, curly hair, locked on mine.
“You need to deal with this,” she warns, volume low, coming closer, standing tall, shoulders back, unafraid. “You have royallyfucked up,” she hisses, real anger in her tone that makes my gut pinch. “What iswrongwith you?”
The blond turns back to me, a smug grin on her plush mouth, realizing her friend is taking her side after all. I don’t say anything for long moments, staring into her rich brown eyes, narrowed on me with her temper. It feels good, someone not babying me just because I’m fresh out of rehab.
I think of her question.
‘What is wrong with you?’
And I do and don’t have an answer.
Everythingfeels appropriate. But I’m not talking to Flynn. I’m not in fucking therapy, AA, I’m in the open doorway of my dorm,mygirl on the other side of it and I don’t gotta answer to these two.
“Move,” I snarl at blondie, shoving her into the door, sending it wide.
She squeals with a grunt at my back as the door thuds against the wall with her weight falling against it. I step inside, blinking in the dim light, eyes scanning the room to find her. And when I do, nothing inside of me seems to work right.
Emma stands right before me, unmoving like a brick wall. I make to step around her, but she follows my movement, halting my steps, dark eyes on mine. I sigh, yielding, shoving a hand through my hair. Waiting.
