by Elena Monroe
My hands didn’t feel soft and lazy against his chest anymore. My head snapped upright, making it harder for his mouth to continue kissing my skin.
A low growl came from his mouth against my chest, “Come on, princess. I know guys like him…”
I pushed on his chest, even though he barely moved an inch. He stopped kissing and looked down at me, as his hand pushed against my cheek and his fingers pushed against my neck begging for access. His words didn’t motivate me to crawl into bed, but to want to understand what he meant, one bad boy to another.
“What do you mean?”
He rolled his eyes, still not backing up or dropping his hand from my body. “He’s not a relationship guy, Layla. It would have never worked out. I asked around.”
My eyes went wide, “Asked around? Asked who? Why?!” My voice was angry, like he had overstepped, but instead, I was relieved. He had answers. I didn’t. I was hoping they filled all the gaps Oliver left.
He finally backed up, realizing I was completely cold compared to moments ago. He sat on the bed, and I felt frozen, waiting for him to explain, desperate for answers as to why Oliver betrayed me.
“Friends. Friends of friends. Some dealers I know. People who knew him.” He only got up to grab the bottle of whiskey and sat back down quickly on Adrian’s comforter next to him. “He’s trouble, Layla. Not like the trendy ‘he’s a bad boy’ way. He’s got real demons.”
I scoffed the same way I did when I saw B attach herself to someone who wasn’t Caden. “You’re a ‘bad boy,’ so...”
He laughed, while stretching, “Different breeds, princess. I don’t have demons. I’m just trouble.”
“What kind of demons do these people say he has?”
“The kind you don’t get over with one rehab visit. You always wanna see the good in everyone. People aren’t only good. Keep thinking that way, and you’re in for one cruel world.”
I felt myself getting angry. I wanted to defend Oliver, and, at the same time, I was ready to mentally punish myself for it later.
“You don’t know him. People change.”
“No one changes, Layla. People only hide those parts of themselves better, just like downstairs. You were mad because B changed at college, right? Less of a slut? Except she didn’t change at all. She just hid her true self better. People will show you exactly who they are if you just pay attention.”
I felt tense and argumentative. “You met him twice, and it resulted in getting hit both times.”
“Do you think fighting came because of you, from someone who changed Oliver, or do you think it just snuck out of hiding?”
I didn’t bother trying to formulate a sentence. I knew his tone didn’t leave room for a response.
I played a highlight reel in my head, looking for clues as to how I became such a fool. How did Hunter have this many answers? I plopped down next to him on Adrian’s over plush bed from pacing, taking the bottle from his hands. People didn’t change, but here I was drinking like a professional, changed from who I was.
We talked some more about how much trouble Oliver was in his mind before we re-joined the party that I knew wasn’t ending any time soon. It made me laugh outside of just thinking to myself to laugh. Alcohol always made me loose enough to not hide how I felt. I didn’t want to slip back into old habits just because I was back in the bubble of Florida. I liked this version of myself I found in the fall.
Hunter had been in fights as long as I knew him, in and out of juvie, constantly in trouble, barely went to school, dealt pot to everyone, and then what had happened with me. Yet, he was marking Oliver as the true bad boy, because he was more than trouble. Maybe I dodged a bullet. Damn demons.
Holiday break really felt like summer without having to work full time. By week three, I almost had myself convinced to try and get my old job back. I needed something constructive to fill my time. B’s version of constructive meant shopping, laying out, and boys. I just wanted to soak myself in romance, rooting for characters to find true love while mine was miles away.
Hunter showed up on my doorstep almost every morning with coffee, sometimes breakfast too. I never fought his presence. He was a welcomed distraction.
I even came to like him, despite our disagreement of the high school night in question. He lived so much life that his insights felt like poetry. I didn’t have it in me to hold onto anger towards him—all my emotions were reserved for Oliver.
She got on that damn plane almost two months ago. My phone never lit up with her name or buzzed wildly because she was trying to reach me. I wasn’t innocent in any of this. I sent a single text that read a simple: Hey… like she’d forget what I said if I sent that one message—one text, one she never responded to. I knew I fucked up; that part was obvious, but how to fix it was playing the best hide-and-seek game imaginable.
That is, until I found the solution: I was going to drown my demons the only way I knew how, with my same old habits.
Caden had been up my ass for two straight months. Peering at me like my silence would speak to him. He constantly asked me if I used again, if I wanted to go to rehab, and if I had seen Jade. He even attempted to take my door off the hinges, but his pledges were more terrified of my wrath than his.
He didn’t take into account what a pro I was at hiding this before. I only got caught because I got greedy; it was never enough to pace myself and sit back into the high. I chased the next one before I even came down. This time, I eliminated that danger. I limited myself with an iron fist.
I refused to get caught.
I refused to let it get that bad this time.
I refused to let the high become bigger than Layla.
Caden was driving me crazy. At least, he kept my recurring slip up to himself. The last thing I needed was every friend I had acting like him.
I could have went to my place for the duration of the holiday and avoided Caden, but it was only trading annoyance with the evil of Richard instead. I was happy to be permanently uninvited from events for my past behavior.
I went over the day before Christmas Eve to see my mom, while he was “working late,” expertly avoiding him. I stopped wondering what that meant or how important it was for him to log 13-hour days as a partner at a financial company. My mom was unaffected, solely focused on her annual Christmas party she hosted every Christmas Eve. She only had me, but her parties made it feel like she had a giant family. I always thought that was why she wanted me in the first place: to kill the loneliness she felt with him gone too much.
She begged me to come to the party, but she knew better than I did how Richard would only take that opportunity to control me. He was borderline psychotic. His need to be “right” came by means of breaking you down, until you relinquished control, making you feel small, fearing him… It was manipulative to a professional level.
I kissed her cheek, handing her the gift I had picked out back in October. It was tradition, longer than I could pinpoint a specific memory, to add to her charm bracelet. She was never without it dangling from her wrist. It was overflowing with charms that you could hear jingle into each other every time she moved her wrist.
I hoped the sound annoyed him.
I hoped it reminded him I existed beyond his grasp and in her love.
Jade wasn’t staying at my place anymore, but it was only a matter of time before Dylan became annoyed with her and she came crawling back. She always did. My place would have been quiet, dark, and lonely. I would hear the heartache and my self-loathing thoughts louder. Staying at the Frat meant strength in numbers.
Caden went home only for a few days. I couldn’t ever tell if he hated going home because he wasn’t the star of the show there like he was on campus. He never stayed long when he did go home.
Aspen was back from his ski trip—well-rested and caught in his normal Jekyll-and-Hyde routine. I realized only in this moment I knew exactly how he felt. This self-loathing was exhausting and comforting at the same time. It felt as healthy as sniffing
up lines.
Palmer stayed on campus with me, while Hayley filled her obligation of attending my mom’s holiday party. Neither of us desired guests. It was always hilarious for all of us to see Hayley cover up her scattered small tattoos and abandon her own personal style just to please her parents.
Elizabeth: She was always gonna be Elizabeth. I wasn’t sure what that meant, really. I knew when I thought of her it was different than anyone else. It wasn’t what I felt for Layla. It was endearing the way her name pulled at my heartstrings, but I never paid any mind to it. Maybe it was true: First loves never truly die?
She went home for longer than any of us. We all needed the break from each other. It was obvious in our short tones and agitated body language. Elizabeth was wound up so tightly I thought she would completely come undone if she stayed on campus for the whole break. Even without classes, she’d create work for herself.
I stayed strong against her attempts to seduce me while Layla was gone. I couldn’t be off the wagon and have sex be a problem too. Layla would never forgive that.
Hell, I didn’t know she’d forgive me at all.
Holiday break was in the past, and each day, I looked down at my phone I would see the date inch towards her arrival back on campus.
I thought time would slow when you ached the way I did, but I woke up and it was one day before New Year’s Eve. I silently bit down on my lip on the inside shouting, Fuck! in my head. My plan was to give myself time and numb myself up, until I could investigate why I felt the need to be an asshole in a stronger state of mind, but now I was out of time. Time was a sneaky bastard. I didn’t wean myself off or even contemplate, even once, why I pushed her away just because she was leaving. She was coming back. My jaded mind, ragged soul, and the traumatic events that shaped me continued to haunt my decisions.
I got motivated, not letting myself look in the direction of my hiding spot, not even a glance.
I wondered why everyone was downstairs when I could hear their voices talk over each other and laughter echoing. I had to scan my own memory through the moments of pure ecstasy to recall if I agreed to some kind of meeting. I didn’t let my face give that away, as I sauntered into the room, grabbing some coffee.
Caden spoke, but it sounded like yelling. “It’s fucking 2:30 in the afternoon.” He paused examining me, like he did every day since that night at the party. He wasn’t stupid, but I still couldn’t tell what conclusion he was making. “We’re trying to figure out what’s going on for New Year’s. I’m gonna have pledges hand out flyers.”
Coming down from a high was worse than being hung over. My head pounded, aching in a way that my fingertips sliding against my temple even felt sensitive. My mouth was dry, like I had left it open the entire time I slept. My eyes were barely open, trying to deflect the sunlight pouring in and fighting against the light bulb hue.
“Every time classes start, we do the bonfire. What’s the problem?”
The girls whined almost in unison, “It’s too cold!”
Their voices overlapping with the same intention made me laugh. I didn’t feel it coming quickly enough to stop it, as it chuckled out. I hadn’t done that in two months.
Nothing was funny when Layla was gone. It was like a part of me was missing without her smile, her small laugh, catching her bright eyes on me from across the room... I don’t know how I went 19 years without knowing her. This was the most I let myself think on this subject.
I wasn’t ready to picture her under me as she tried to confess to loving me.
I wasn’t ready to submit to feelings I had figured out.
I wasn’t ready to love someone else and subconsciously sabotage it, until I had to watch her crack, watch her break, and watch her crumble.
Aspen was eating cereal for lunch, when I slumped down next to him with my elbows against the countertop. I grabbed an extra spoon before I stole his bowl and a hearty bite. His eyes opened wide and his arms flew out, like he was ready to say something, but he didn’t. He let his words slip right back down his throat before I handed the bowl back. All I wanted was a bite. I never asked for things; I just took. I always thought it was a curse of “Oliver Twist”—having nothing and taking everything.
I was sure I interrupted whoever was talking when I pushed out my opinion after not paying attention. “Then have it inside. What’s the debate?”
Caden spoke up, grabbing a beer and cracking the tab back. He had a way of telling people what to do, but didn’t follow his own advice. “I need a change. I’m tired of the same old parties.”
Aspen spoke up, “My parents are in Paris for their anniversary; they went right after Christmas. We could probably use the guest house. I don’t wanna trash the main house.”
He sounded unsure, but Caden didn’t care when he decided for him. Everyone around the island was immediately glowing with ideas and excitement. I wasn’t comfortable with the wealth surrounding me still. Every time someone mentioned money, guest houses, or vacations, I felt like the orphan boy who wasn’t wanted all over again—the poor orphan boy who didn’t fit regardless of the Porsche or perfect parents I had now. I was adopted so young that I had no memories of my life before this one, but the worst possibilities always lingered.
I walked away once the girls ganged up on Aspen for information on the space. They were designing in their heads, and I barely wanted to attend.
I was headed for my room when Caden’s hand grasped my arm, pulling me backward, to a stop. .
“Hey, Ollie, hold up,” he said calmly, but I knew he was anything, but calm.
I rolled my eyes before I turned around, facing him, waiting for the interrogation now that I was away from our friends. “You doing okay?” He leaned against the banister a few steps below me. I sat down at the top, knowing one-word answers wouldn’t suffice, but maybe if I sat down it would look like I was giving in.
“Caden, I’m fine… just like yesterday… and the day before… the day before that...” My voice sounded annoyed, like I meant it to.
He examined me again, trying to tell if I was, in fact, fine. “She text you yet?”
I didn’t bother responding, as I pushed my tongue against my teeth trying bite back a response. If I answered it was going to be sarcastic and would probably turn into an argument. We both knew she didn’t text me, and I didn’t need to humiliate myself by saying it out loud.
“Their flight gets in tonight. I was picking B up, but now I assume I’m driving Layla back too.” He paused, unsure of where he was going with this. I wasn’t sure either, I just waited for him to bring up rehab again. His eyes met mine when he dropped the volume in his voice, making sure no one else could hear. “So get it together, Ollie. Unless you want her to see this version of you and hate you more than she already does.”
His words weighed me down more than I expected. I couldn’t get up until Caden turned around, leaving me alone, taking the weight of the words with him. It was true, I lost a part of the control I thought I had. I planned this out: Stay numb until I could come to terms. Get clean before she came back. Beg her for forgiveness. Somewhere, though, I lost track of time, and she would be on campus tonight… and I wasn’t sober. Caden’s information didn’t have the sobering effect he hoped for. It made me want to push more powder up my nose.
My room was a mess compared to normal. Normally it was an organized mess with stacks of books that I meant to read versus TA shit in another pile. Now I had clothes littering the floor, shoes kicked over, and this odor like a cooped up room hadn’t had the door opened in twenty years. I breathed heavily as I started to clean my room, baby steps right. I couldn’t let Layla see what a mess my room was—an extension of me.
I opened the drawer to my hiding place and stared down at the small baggies Jade had left for me. I still had plenty left over, but I couldn’t land on a decision if I would be done right now. I toyed with the idea of my last high to say goodbye and get me through the party tomorrow. Whatever senses I had left pushed my hand for
ward slamming the drawer closed.
The rest of the night I felt anchored to my desk, while I prepped for classes to start again—anchored to the same spot where the instant numbing effect lived. Being high never affected my grades before, but this time around, I was much more distracted.
Her expression of disappointment before she walked away haunted me; the drawer taunted me to forget.
I closed my computer aggressively, forcing myself up and away from my desk. I grabbed my keys, pushed my shoes on, and slammed the door behind me, like it could insult the hallucinations I conjured up. Aspen was in the hallway in a towel, staring at me like I had eight heads. All I hoped was that I wasn’t talking out loud and didn’t realize it.
I barked out an angry, “What?”
Aspen’s eyes were wide, and he shook his head. I almost forgot I was talking to the weaker version, Hyde. He was stone cold sober. The sobriety had him caught in this loop of guilt for the wreck. Most nights he would wake up the whole Frat, either screaming or bawling his eyes out from whatever dream had its claws in him.
Drunk Aspen was the Aspen we all knew before—carefree and fun. Well, I just barked at the wrong version. The version we were all much more careful with.
I put my hand on his shoulder, “Hey, sorry, man. Fucking Wi-Fi isn’t working. I’m gonna go to Intuition and work.”
Lies rolled off my tongue with ease when I wanted them to. They usually stuck too, but my sympathy for Aspen caught me off guard. I hadn’t felt much in two months, and even a pang of sympathy felt overpowering.
But when he responded I knew I was caught in a lie. “Don’t forget your laptop then.”
I cursed myself in my head. If I was crazier, I would have gone full Tyler Durden from Fight Club and socked myself as punishment.
I opened the door, and the desk drawer was open, not how I left it. I slammed the drawer closed and swiped my laptop off the desk.
The whole way to the coffee house, I contemplated if I was taking drugs without realizing it or just coming off of a two-day streak.
