Page 64 of Addiction

“That doesn’t surprise me. Well, I’ll have to remember next time to get a pizza with pineapple on it just for you.”

“So, there’s going to be a next time?” I find myself asking.

“Oh absolutely. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

I don’t want to.

He holds my gaze for a few calculated seconds and heat rushes up my body. He’s pulling me in with those gorgeous brown eyes of his, and even though I’m not physically moving, I feel myself getting closer, wanting to get closer. My eyes fall to his mouth and when the tip of his tongue wets his lips, my mind is back to those seductive thoughts once more.

Wanting.

Needing.

I look away quickly, hiding what he’s doing to me, casting my eyes on anything and everything. The deja vu hits me again, and I can’t work out what the hell is going on. Leaning forward, I place down the remaining slice of my pizza, suddenly not hungry anymore, my mind now on overdrive.

Theo has always told me that when it gets like this to just speak out and not worry about the reasons or the consequences. It’s to ensure I don’t bottle things up and end up turning down the dark road I am so desperately trying to avoid. And I’ve learnt with Wade that I can be myself, despite hiding who I am underneath.

“Why does being here and being close to you feel so familiar yet seem so new?” I ask.

A beat of silence falls between us, and I look at him.

He’s studying me hard, and I get an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

“Because you’ve been here before."

Hot panic cascades down my spine. My mind is a rollercoaster, racing through memories and trying to stop at the point where I’ll recall what happened between us and why I was even here to begin with. But I can’t.

As if he can read my every thought, he quickly adds. “Nothing happened, Asher. I found you outside my place during a storm.”

"I-I don't remember," I whisper.

"You were soaked. I got you changed and then we just talked.”

“What did we talk about?”

“You asked me how you could make it stop."

That damn silence is back again, but all I can hear now is the beat of my heart as I dread the words that will come next. I glance at him. “Make what stop?”

“Whatever was eating you alive.”

My chest tightens, and I look away, not liking the thought of not remembering and also knowing what was—and still is—eating me alive. Maybe this is why we’ve connected so well. Maybe all this time there’s been more between us than I’ve known. Just a simple conversation has brought us together in a way I’d never imagined, but more important it’s a conversation I’ve never known I had.

Drunk me wants to remember everything about that night but sober me knows there’s no point even trying.

Scrubbing my hand over my jaw, I murmur, "I wish I could remember."

"A part of you does. Otherwise, you wouldn't have the familiarity of being here." He shifts himself closer to me, his leg brushing with mine, and warmth radiates over me when he places his hand on the nape of my neck.

I close my eyes at his touch but hide my reaction to him by pinching the bridge of my nose, hating that the biggest contradiction to myself is me because I want so much of what I can’t say. My head and my heart are not aligned, and I’m struggling to keep up with both.

The rush is filled with dread.

The need is lined with fear.

The want is flooded with a past and a future I’ve been running from all this time.

I’ve been running so long now that I don’t know how to stop and along the way, I’ve been continuously looking for someone who will reach out and guide me.