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“So, you really are after drugs, aren’t you? Getting a head start on that addiction, good idea. Then you will be married and divorced all before your thirtieth birthday. Such a dreamer.” I tap his chest and forget he is shirtless; my hand sticks to his body like a magnet for a few more seconds.
Before Lad catches me ogling him, I roll my eyes and remove my digits from his pectoral.
“It’s not drugs, Alaska.”
I quirk my eye because I don’t know when he thought we became intimate friends with a nickname I’ve hated for decades.
“I mean Alyeska.” Not pronounced Alaska, but you can’t convince a bunch of hormonal assholes of that pronunciation.
“Why don’t you just go by Alaska?” Lad rubs his temple, trying to figure out a riddle no one asked him to figure out.
Plus, why go by a nickname some jerks picked out because they were too stuck on their own dicks to figure out they were being giant temperamental ball sacks?
“Why don’t you go by Al?” Because if we want to play who is superior and who is stupid, it might be a tie.
“Because it’s not my name.” Now he stares at me like I am dumb.
“Enlightening, Alaska isn’t my name either.” I grab my backpack and try to move past him, but of course he refuses to let me go that easily.
“So, are you going to help me or not?” There is a perfect peak on his eyebrow as he lifts it up.
“If it isn’t drugs, then what do you want? Because rumor has it you are on a fast track to gold medals that are actually ninety-two-point-five percent silver. Or is it with passing classes, weren’t you valedictorian?” It’s old news, but I bet he loves hearing it. I sure the hell love walking into a parade of Lad’s swimming accomplishments every day.
People need to find a new son of God to start worshipping, or maybe the old one was fine, and Lad shouldn’t have replaced him.
“I don’t need your help in studies; I am smart as fuck.” There is the cocky man himself; nobody needs to boost his ego. It comes inflated all on its own.
“As I said before, valedictorian. Heavy on thedickportion.” The snark comes out of the side of my mouth.
“I need help with steps, with solutions to issues and problems.” But he smiles at me as he says it, still enjoying the sass on my mouth.
“I’m not a therapist?” Don’t plan on being that selfless. I am going to need a few more traumatic problems to earn me a psychology degree.
“No, I know. We don’t know each other, but I need help being held accountable. I’ve been slipping lately; I got into trouble over the past year.” It’s quiet and remorseful; his perfect reputation isn’t working its way through my shield.
“Meaning?” But he doesn’t continue. Who is dramatic now, bitch? “If you want my help, spit it out.” Time is wasting away with these pauses.
“It’s mostly pills.” Lad bites his lip and there is confusion. But it clears up pretty quick when I realize pretty boy doesn’t want a blemish on his perfect record. “I just need you to be my accountability buddy.” It’s chipper, hopeful this time.
“So, you want me to babysit you? Hard pass, bro. Get one of your cock keychains to do it.” I put a hand to his chest and the hard part is spot on.
“No, I mean, I figured in rehab they taught you coping skills, ways to deal with temptations or pressure.” Ignoring the awesome jab about calling the women he sleeps with as cock keychains.
“Again, I went to rehab for physical therapy and one time for alcohol, not for drugs.” Is there an eye-roll big enough to get this dude away from me?
“Alaska, I know what rehab you went to, okay. This city may be big enough for you to blend in the cracks. But I also know you couldn’t afford anything better than the state-funded place, where I know for a fact, they group you with all types of people in recovery.” Lad knows too much to be this cruel.
“Because I am a minority, from the reservation?” It isn’t the first time someone has put me in a box and treated me as such. “Listen up, Aladden, I’ve never even lived on a reservation. My mom is Japanese, remember? And she is the one, in fact, an abuser of similar substances.” Anything to make her shadow skinnier and less visible to the world.
“No, that isn’t what I meant.” Lad is backing up now, trying to force me to see his side, but I am blinded by my own damn reflection.
“Of course it isn’t, you saw a poor wounded girl and thought hey, she probably would feel so good about herself if she helped me. I am really doing her a favor.” Could this fucker get a billboard so he could do his idol worshipping away from me?
“Alaska, please, I need help. I don’t know who else to ask. I can’t trust anyone else.” Lad grabs my hand and there is a sharp spark, making me jerk away.
“And you trust me? You can’t be serious, Aladden? I legit grill you alive with insults every day. Is this some humiliation or subjugation kink?” I am learning new things about my friend every minute we keep talking.
“What? No? Why would you even—what does the last one even mean? Forget it, don’t answer. I trust you because of what you told me yesterday.” Lad fumbling over his words is cute.
