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JEREMY MONTGOMERY
Smoke pavesa fiery path down my throat, filling my lungs. I suck in as much as I can and hold it, tipping my head back against the cushion to gaze up at the starless night sky.
Lowering the blunt to my side, I slowly let some of the thick white smoke trickle out from my nose, watching the way it forms a cloud around my head, before disappearing into the night.
The old Trapt song that’s been playing softly from my AirPods gives way to the next in the queue. The opening chords to “Regrets” by Dream on Dreamer filters into my ears, mingling with the distant rush of passing cars and chirps of crickets.
Out here in Will’s parents’ backyard, with music muffling the late-night sounds of the city, I can almost pretend I’m back home, sitting on the roof outside my bedroom with nothing but music, the stars, and my sketchbook to keep me company.
My bare toes curl into the scratchy lounge chair cushion. My skin tingles, and my head feels fuzzy. My mouth chalky. The music feelsmore,and I know it’s the weed starting to work its magic.
Tucking my legs up to my chest, I grip the coiled edge of my sketchbook with my free hand, keeping it from falling. A graphite pencil balances between my pale fingers.
That’s better,I think, a sleepy grin teasing my lips, my eyes drifting shut.
I don’t smoke often, but I have a script for medicinal use for when I need it, like tonight. My anxiety’s been shit, hence why I’m still awake. I know it’s at least partially from the Molly. I always crash hard from the stuff—in an antsy, depressed sort of way—which is why I typically steer clear from anything that isn’t alcohol and weed.
But when Ivy waved a little baggy in my face this morning, a wicked grin playing at her ruby-red lips, I couldn’t resist.
I just wanted to feelgood,even if it was just for a couple hours, despite knowing what would come after.
Was it worth it?
I’d like to think so.
I did end up having fun today once we reunited with the others at the end of the march, and I was able to use the others as a much-needed buffer between Mason and me. By then the drugs had kicked in, and all my issues seemed to just…fade away.
I just wish my reprieve would’ve lasted a little bit longer. Say, like, for forever.
The crash I’ve been dealing with is a stark reminder why it’s better to just live with my demons rather than try to drown them out. They only come back stronger than ever once they find their way back in.
Is this what it was like for Mason?
The thought comes unbidden and my eyes fly open.
I shake my head at the voice in my head.No, no, this is exactly why we’re not the same.
See, I don’t crave another hit just to ward off the inevitable. Instead I just regret ever trying to escape it to begin with. Running from the pain doesn’t do me any favors. It’ll just gut me that much harder when I return to earth.
Denial has never been a friend of mine.
Yawning, I reach over and tap the lockscreen on my phone.
1:32.
It’s been a little over an hour since Ivy and I got back from the club. The house was dark and quiet when we let ourselves in, telling us everyone was already in bed. A quick glance in the darkened living room as we crept toward the stairs showed Mason and Shawn fast asleep on the L-shaped sectional.
While Ivy went straight to bed once we got upstairs, joining Phoebe in Will’s parents room, I opted for a shower first before joining them, needing to scrub off all the glitter and grime and sweat from all the bodies pressed up against me back at the club.
Only once I was done, rather than find space on the bed, I grabbed my stuff and came out here instead, relieved to have some alone time to decompress.
I return my pencil to the sketchbook in front of me as my mind drifts back to the dude I hooked up with earlier at the club.
We didn’t do much. Just a quick exchange of hand jobs in one of the darkened corridors by the bathrooms. He invited me home with him after, but at that point, I was coming down hard from my climax, and just wanted to get away. I just wanted to be alone.
What little buzz I managed to get from the alcohol had all but fizzled out with my orgasm.
It helped having a valid excuse to give the guy whose name I can’t even fucking remember—if I even got it at all. Like hell was I leaving Ivy alone. I already felt like shit for abandoning her, albeit briefly, all in a shallow effort to get out of my head.
