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Come on, Hunter,that dark voice begins.You know you want it. You know you miss it. What’s one more thing? You’ve been drinking every day. What’s a little coke? It’s nothing. You’re nothing.
“You want some, Hunter?” Jeremy asks while handing me the rolled up bill.
My fingers twitch, my hand reaching for the bill. Before I touch it, I see Rachel’s face flashing within my mind; how beautiful she looks, the tears in her eyes when she found me, how she held me after my mother’s death, how worried she was about me. I can’t do this to her again.
I jump up from the coach, striding briskly toward the exit.
“Hunter!” Brody shouts after me. “Hunter! Where the fuck are you going?”
I don’t say anything as I continue through the long hall and down the stairs. Before I reach the exit, I take out my phone, using my app to get a cab. I thankfully don’t have to wait long. The line is still long—longer than before with even more men finely dressed. I don’t even know if the same hostess is standing outside, nor do I care as I get into my cab. I inhale deeply as I watch the streets pass me by. My body won’t stop trembling. I tap my fingers hurriedly against my knees, ignoring the need to turn back and inhale that white powder.
I’m not that person anymore,I tell myself with a shake of my head.I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.I repeat those words over and over again, like a mantra, hoping by repeating them I will believe them. I repeat them on my way out of the car and all the way up to my hotel room until I’m standing in the middle of the room, staring at my refrigerator.
“I’m not,” I whisper while opening the door, seeing the small liquor bottles in the corner. I never told the hotel staff to take them out. All six of them stare back at me, urging me to drink them, telling me I will feel better about this night.
I can forget this ever happened,I tell myself while reaching for the small vodka bottle.I don’t ever have to remember the hostess I never helped and the dancer Brody was rude to and the cocaine on the table. I can drink and forget.
I sit down in front of the fridge, drinking one little bottle at a time. I don’t taste, I only drink. My head goes numb, my vision blurs, but not enough. I can still see my phone in my hands. I can still see Dr. Forrester’s name at the top of the messages. I’m hardly aware of my thumb moving, but I can see the words.
Give up on me,I message her.There is no hope.
Chapter 15
SETH
IfrownwhilewatchingDr. Forrester pace back and forth. Something is obviously on her mind. She keeps looking at her phone. It’s fine. I came early. Maybe she’s having some issues at home. Even therapists are people. However, she won’t stop frowning, won’t stop tapping her fingers on her desk. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her act so unprofessional. I hope everything is okay.
“Seth,” Dr. Forrester begins, her voice tinged with worry. “Have you heard from Hunter at all?”
I straighten in my seat, my head tilting as I watch her brows pinch together, worry lines marring her face. “Yeah, I have,” I say. Not for a while, though. The guy is busy with his NFL star life. It’s not like I can call him randomly and have deep, meaningful conversations. Maybe I should check on him more now that Dr. Forrester brings it up.
But why would she bring him up? Is he the person worrying her?
“Is everything okay?” I ask, unable to hide my concern. Did something happen? Is his dad okay? Did he get injured during one of his games? Fuck, why am I such a terrible friend? I should message him after this appointment.
Dr. Forrester smiles, yet the gleam doesn’t meet her eye. I can still see the worry lines on her forehead. “It’s nothing,” she says, her tone overly cheerful. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.”
“Are you sure?”
Dr. Forrester sighs. “I’m sorry, Seth. I shouldn’t be discussing other clients with you. I shouldn’t have asked.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Maybe,” Dr. Forrester says hesitantly, “check on him a bit? If that’s possible?”
“Will do.”
Dr. Forrester forces a smile, yet I can tell her mind is nowhere on her job or on my appointment. I kinda want to ask if she wants to reschedule, but all thoughts of that fly out of my little head when she asks, “How are you and Alex, Seth? Has anything else happened between you?”
I fight the need to groan. How is my relationship with Alex? I can’t quite say it’s the worse it’s ever been, but it’s definitely not good. If I hear him in the hallway, I keep my door closed, which has caused me to be late to class a number of times. I keep my distance during practice. I ignore him during meals. Hell, I don’t even train with him anymore and yet he continues to invite me out, which annoys the shit out of me. How can he be so blind? Can’t he see what’s happening between us? Can’t he see there’s something wrong with me? Fuck, I can’t even look at the guy without wanting to either hurl or grab him by his perfectly chiseled face and slam my mouth against those plump lips of his.
“Fine,” I mumble, my gaze dropping to the carpeted floor.
“Just fine?” Dr. Forrester asks, and I clench my jaw at the subtle tone in her voice hinting she can see right through me. Of course she knows it’s not fine. “Nothing has happened?”
“Nope.”
I chance a glance up at Dr. Forrester, finding her eyes fixated on me, her finger tapping lightly against her chin. “Have you tried speaking to him at all about your feelings? Your friendship?”
