That night I’m back in the lounge. I’m exhausted, eyes burning, the world a blur.
I fish my glasses from my pocket and put them on. Everything sharpens, just enough to see faces again.
Calvin’s invited a few mates, deciding yesterday’s party wasn’t done yet. Balearic house, loud Scots, and whisky keeps coming.
They offer me a glass, I politely decline.
Calvin tries to push, says we have to toast to the track we made.
When I raise my water bottle instead, he blinks at me, confused.
“Water’s good for toasting too,” I say. He doesn’t get it.
Here’s the thing, the longer I stay sober, the more I see, and the more I see, the more confused I get.
Not about myself. About everyone else.
I love Calvin to bits, but if he’s my mate, shouldn’t he be backing me up on this? Isn’t that what they all wanted when they’d shipped me off to Arcadia?
So why do they keep sliding cut-crystal glasses my way?
It’s like tossing a steak in front of his overfed dogs and expecting them not to go for it.
I look at the bottle. That warm amber glow. The taste I remember—oak, smoke, the right kind of burn.
I keep staring. It’s a challenge, and I’m winning, because it’s doing less and less for me.
What sticks is how I’ve been writing these past few weeks. How I produced today.
How I see life again. Living in the moment, feeling the sunlight, smelling the ocean, hearing the birds.
For the first time, I don’t want to numb myself anymore. I want to feel it all, even the pain, even the ugly shit that crawls out when I revisit the worst parts of my life. Because every time I do, I’m getting a better grip, finally holding the reins.
They’re nice people, but I’m drained. Laughter feels far away, and I definitely don’t have it in me to vibe to a mix of Chris Rea’sJosephine.
I sink deeper into the cushions, lids nearly shut. Then my phone lights up on the table.
Yosh’s name glowing on the screen sends a blow of energy through me.
I snatch it off the table.
Yosh:
McKenna, just checking, should I reserve the isolation suite for you tomorrow? Cozy walls. Very private. Very exclusive.
The smile creeps in before I can stop it.
Fuck. He’s such a tease. I better answer fast, he’s rarely connected with his phone.
Tom:
Only if you’re isolating with me.
Yosh:
Not in Arcadia.
Spit gathers in my mouth. He wants me to bite. And yeah, my cock’s already pulsing like,where where where, so I play along. Because I’m a horny fucker, and he knows exactly how to play me.
