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"What are you working on?" he asks me while I type away at my computer.
I shrug. "Just an essay for school. Nothing special."
"Essays suck the life out of you. I always hated them."
Looking up, I can't help but smirk. "So, it's the essay’s fault? Not the twenty years of chain-smoking cigarettes?"
A hearty laugh echoes through the room. "Ouch, kid. Way to kick your old man when he's down."
"Did you expect anything less?" a f
amiliar voice says.
Looking over toward the door, both Mr. Trayland and Mr. London are standing there. It looks like they came from somewhere important, because they're both in suits. My dad instantly tries to sit up, but can't, so I help him by adjusting the bed and fixing his pillows.
"What are you two doing here?" he asks, skeptical yet happy.
Mr. Trayland walks toward the bed. "A little bird told us the news. Though I have to admit, I'm wondering why we didn't hear it from you."
"No one needs to see me like this," my dad tells him.
I go to excuse myself, to give them some time together, when Mr. London puts his hand on my shoulder.
"How are you holding up?" he questions. "You okay?"
Looking him straight in the eyes, the corners of my mouth raise. "No, but I will be."
And for the first time in a while, I mean it.
It might not be today.
Might not even be this year.
But I will be.
If someone asked me what the worst part of relapsing is, I would say having to go through withdrawal again. At least the first time, I had no idea what to expect. I knew it was going to be bad, but I never expected how bad it actually was. This time, however, I know exactly what's going to happen. It makes the urge and craving for drugs that much worse.
Then there's the fact that Paige was a lot more caring and affectionate than Carter and Zayn. The two of them each take turns sitting with me and making sure I'm never alone, not even for a second.
I spend three full days in bed, completely immobile. My head feels like someone is squeezing it as hard as possible and attempting to rip it straight off my neck. By the time the vomiting kicks in, I start to seriously think I might die. The only thing that manages to even slightly wake me up is the need to throw up, and once I'm done, I feel the darkness take over as I pass back out.
The limo pulls up to Delaney's house, where all the girls are waiting for us. Carter, Grayson, Wyatt, Hayden, and I all climb out as the girls come walking through the door. They all look gorgeous, but there's only one who stands out in my eyes.
Paige is wearing a pale turquoise dress, with half her hair tied back and the rest in perfectly done curls. She looks like something in a magazine. As she turns to look at me, the sun hits her just right, and her green eyes sparkle. The breath whooshes out of me when she smiles.
I am one lucky son of a bitch.
Carter bumps me with his elbow. "Please tell me you plan on locking that shit down."
I can't help but chuckle. "Like you plan on locking down Delaney?"
"That's different," he argues with a grunt. "You know I would if I could, but she's still harboring feelings for some shithead."
Okay, fair.
Walking toward each other, Paige and I meet in the middle. I look her up and down, just taking in how amazing she is. The second she notices, she giggles and twirls around, but Paige is anything but graceful. She trips over herself and ends up stumbling into my arms. I catch her with ease and hold her upright.
"That looked a lot better in my head," she says.
