Consumed (Addicted to You Book 1)

by Flatman, NJ

  When he took off, I was grateful for that job. No one bothered me. If I felt like crying while I worked, I could do that. Mostly, I could hide there and never have to answer questions or pretend I cared about conversation.

  I’d been glad when that assignment was over and I’d moved on to the public side of life. I wanted people. But as I stood there and looked at the clock I realized I still had three hours left of my shift. That made me long for the comfort and quiet of that lonely office.

  “Avery,” the deep voice startled me as I stood at the pick-up window, waiting on an order and avoiding the people sitting at my tables. “Everything good?”

  Dominic was a stern boss, but a caring one. He’d always made me feel like I mattered and I appreciated that. Nice as he was though, I still had very little desire to communicate. Besides, the reality was that people only asked out of habit. Even my closest friends didn’t want an honest answer.

  I couldn’t imagine his reaction if I’d told him the truth.

  ‘ No Dominic it isn’t. Spencer left me again while I was off. He didn’t even say goodbye. I feel like everything in my world is gone and there’s nothing left. It’s as if the sunshine has been removed and all I can ever hope for is a gray and depressing sky. I don’t know how I’m going to exist from minute to minute. People want me to chat and be normal, but I’m not even sure what that is anymore. There are moments when I don’t really even want to try and if I had the money for the bills I’d probably curl into the fetal position in my bed and cry until I just withered away into the nothing I feel like.’

  Right. Because that is what someone wanted to hear. The truth was that people weren’t equipped for honesty. There were no simple answers that would solve the situation and so they just didn’t bother.

  “Yep,” lying had become second nature in my world by necessity.

  “Need a break?” somehow the plump little Greek man had seen through my less than honest answer. He didn’t know the full truth, but he knew something was wrong. And that kind of pissed me off. “We are slow.” He added as if that made up for him believing I couldn’t handle working.

  I wanted to refuse. My stubborn nature didn’t want anyone to think something could make me weak. I almost said no.

  Almost.

  He was offering me a chance to get away from the cake lady and her silently patient husband and I needed that more than I needed to feed my ego. So I nodded a yes and he instructed another server to take my tables.

  Grabbing a pack of cigarettes and glass of soda, I slipped through the kitchen and out the back door. The new no smoking anywhere inside the building rules had left us with nothing but the alleyway for a break room. At that moment, it was perfect. No one would be there besides me and that was what I needed most.

  Silence. Time to sulk and hurt. A moment of peace without any expectation of me.

  Placing my back against the brick exterior of the restaurant, I slid down onto my ass on the pavement. Even the cold, hard asphalt felt comfortable after a couple of hours of being on my feet. It amazed me sometimes how tired my legs and feet could end up feeling. The slower we were, the worse it seemed to be.

  I knew I should probably eat something, even if it was only to keep my body going, but the thought turned my stomach. I was still reeling from the four or five saltines I’d stuffed in on the way to work.

  I lit a cigarette, but the taste wasn’t appealing and I spent more time holding it than I did actually smoking. That was the way my life was at that moment. Nothing I did had quite the same impact when I was in the state of mind that currently controlled me. Every so often I’d flip the ashes out of habit- feeling like a robot somehow going through the motions instead of a person experiencing life.

  If anyone had paid any attention they would have realized that is exactly what was happening. I was moving, talking and doing the things I had to do. But it wasn’t really me. It was like I was programmed and I carried out the assigned tasks. But I did so without feeling or emotion. Because bringing any emotion into my body meant facing the pain and I knew that I wouldn’t get through anything that needed to be done. So I walked around in a daze and routine.

  Nothing I did required much effort or seemed overly difficult except for holding back the tears. They wanted to fall randomly, during those moments when I’d remember that he was gone, and I had to keep that from happening. If I succumbed to the pain, I’d lose my ability to function. I’d become damn near comatose from the hurt. Wearing makeup helped simply because I didn’t want it all across my face- but nothing would keep the ache completely at bay.

  Ten minutes into my thirty minute break I contemplated going back inside. Sitting in the dark alone only enhanced the barrenness that had enveloped my soul. If I had any soul left. That was debatable. I was pretty sure that he’d taken it with him. But, just as I was about to stand and do so, my phone emitted a sound.

  My heart raced. I felt a dash of hope fill my body. One little glimmer of possibility was all it took to bring the emotion out. I didn’t bother to try and read the number through my cracked screen. I just pushed answer and said hello like the automaton that I had become. Only this automaton had a fraction of optimism.

  “Well, it’s about time you stopped ignoring me,” a quick giggle let me know that Colby was teasing.

  Once again I crashed. The little of my heart that seemed to be left was crushed under the pressure of yet another disappointment. It wasn’t him. He wasn’t going to call. The pressure against my chest felt unbearable as that realization set into my mind.

  “I’m at work,” I offered as a makeshift excuse that I knew wouldn’t fly. No way had I been working every time she’d called over the past couple of days. But I couldn’t very well say that I just didn’t want to talk to her or anyone else.

  “Want to get out tonight?” her voice sounded eager. “We can talk about our trip and have a few drinks.”

  I could hear the hope on the other end. I tried to forget how much I hated her for being right about him. It wasn’t Colby’s fault. She’d never want to see me destroyed. She just guessed based on what she knew and she’d been accurate.

  “Nah,” the effort to hide my own heart break wasn’t going well. “I don’t feel good.” I lied.

  “Then I’ll come over,” she announced, uninvited. “We can have a bowl of ice cream, watch a movie and discuss our trip.”

  Her excitement was borderline fucking annoying. She didn’t know that I was distraught beyond repair. There was no way she could have figured out that my life had buckled, breaking into a million broken pieces. But I still wished she’d have the decency to pick up on the fact that something was wrong.

  “I think I want to sleep,” something told me that no excuse was going to be good enough, but I continued to try.

  “Does he not want you to hang out with me?” I heard that shrill girly squeak for a second time that day and automatically began to tune it out. I hated when girls felt the need to offer up ear piercing sounds. Why could they not just talk?

  “I’ve heard about that you know. Guys that keep their girls from having friends. It’s not healthy Avery,” I really wasn’t listening to what she was saying. Tuning others out was how I coped. It kept me from snapping at them. But she continued to talk nonetheless. As my brain put together random words that she uttered I realized I had missed a lot. “Abuse is serious,” she was saying. “You have to think about that.”

  “Whoa,” stopping her I tried to formulate what she’d been saying. “Abuse? What?”

  “I mean if he doesn’t want you to have friends….” She began, words getting quieter as she went on. “It’s abusive. Controlling.”

  “He’s not there,” I announced, pissed that she was forcing me to share things I wasn’t ready to even say, let alone tell anyone. “He left.”

  “Again?” she didn’t sound any more surprised than I’d felt. Her tone, however, really upset me. Then suddenly, she acted as though I hadn’t said a thing. As if I should
n’t be upset at all. “Well that settles it,” she giggled. “I’ll be there tonight, but I’ll bring alcohol.”

  Colby hung up the phone before I could refute her self-created invitation. She knew I wouldn’t be able to call her back and be rude, so she’d left me no choice. Her pushy nature was one of the things I loved about her, and one of the things I hated. This was a hated time.

  I resented the fact that as I sat there in a dark alleyway, attempting to smoke a cigarette and not break down, she was more concerned with her own agenda than my feelings. It bothered me that she wasn’t taking my heart break anywhere near as hard as I was.

  But she was eager for the trip I’d forgotten about and most certainly didn’t want to take. The trip that we’d dreamed of. It would only serve to make me feel more alone and distant. There was no way I could go.

  I stood and walked back inside ten minutes before I had to- hoping the tables would keep me busy and that I’d figure out a way to cancel a vacation I’d been planning with my best friend forever.

  Chapter 4

  “I wish I had a beer,” Colby was tapping her pencil against the table in our apartment as I was standing at the fridge complaining.

  “I wish you’d go out once in a while,” she replied.

  “You know I’m not much on going out,” I shrugged, closing the door for the third time in the past twenty minutes. “I like being here.”

  “Yeah,” she went back to her crossword. “I know.”

  “It’s not my fault you broke up with Jamie,” I reminded her.

  “No,” she agreed. “But you could help me with it by going out and letting me find his replacement.”

  “Have you ever thought of maybe just being without a guy for a day or two?”

  Colby and I had been friends since school, but sometimes we both wondered how. Our polar opposite personalities often clashed when it came to the big things in our lives. Men, money, morals and work. But somehow we’d stayed close and managed to hold onto our friendship.

  Even during Friday nights like the one we were having. Colby always wanted to go out. Bars, clubs, anywhere that had lots of people and noise. I was the opposite. I preferred to stay home. Sometimes I’d have a few friends over. Sometimes I’d just read or watch a movie.

  “Seriously?” she asked. “You are going to give me dating advice?”

  “It’s not like I’m a virgin,” I’d huffed. “I’ve dated.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “And currently you spend a lot of time with Mr. Hot Stuff and you guys still haven’t….”

  “Shut up!” I squealed, interrupting her. “Who cares?”

  “Obviously neither of you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’d personally die of withdrawals.”

  “Well maybe I think there’s more to life than that,” I lied.

  She knew I was lying. I knew I was lying. There was nothing on the planet I’d like more than for Spencer to take things to the next level. But he’d told me about his failed engagement and I didn’t want to push him. He was still unsure of relationships and love.

  So I’d been his take it slow, something a little more than a friend but not quite together kind of thing. Knowing damn well that’s how I always got put into the dreaded friend zone, I’d still agreed. It wasn’t like I had a choice. I didn’t choose him to be what he was to me. And I couldn’t choose for him not to be.

  So far I wasn’t the friend. He came around and we were somewhat dating. As in we went on dates and had dates at his place and my place. But we’d never really become an official couple and we’d never done more than kiss.

  I wasn’t dying from withdrawals though. I was dying from desire. He had that affect on me. Just seeing him, I wanted him badly. I craved his touch. One look in my direction and I would melt.

  But I still wasn’t sure that he was attracted to me the way he needed to be. Sure, he took me out and held my hand and introduced me to all of his friends. But he didn’t seem to feel the electricity that I felt when he touched me. If he did, it didn’t show.

  I don’t know why I expected more than that. Who in their right mind that looked like him would feel that desire for me? I knew that I was nothing spectacular. I was average. He was way above average. He could have anyone he wanted. Yet the fact he chose to be with me gave me hope. Maybe I was what he wanted. Maybe not. Maybe we just didn’t have that magic that I thought I felt.

  “When you can find me something in life that feels anywhere near an orgasm, I’ll join you in the abstinence club,” she shot back. “Until then, I need someone to go clubbing with me tonight.”

  “I don’t like clubs,” I reminded her.

  “But you like beer,” she tried to convince me. “And you want a beer. The clubs have beer. You can sit at a table and hate me for dragging you there while you drink and plan my demise.”

  “Sounds like the best night of my life,” I rolled my eyes.

  “Maybe not,” she agreed. “But I can make my way around the place and try and find a new man to adore me. That would be the best night of my life. You can drink. Then we will both be happy.”

  “Or I can run to the store, grab a beer and stay home and make myself happy.”

  “But then I won’t be happy,” she countered. “Which will make you unhappy.”

  “Why do you need me there? You do just fine on your own,” I reminded her, thinking of the many nights she’d found her next true love on the dance floor.

  “Because you are my best friend. Because I do everything you ask me to do. Because you never go out with me no matter how many times you say you will,” she began to tick reasons off on her fingers. “Come on, Avery, please?”

  “If I go tonight, will you shut up?” I asked and she began to clap and squeal.

  “Yes! Thank you Avery. I love you sooo much!” she ran out of the kitchen to get dressed.

  No doubt Colby would put on the sexiest and most flattering outfit that she owned. I looked down at my own faded jeans and t-shirt, trying to decide if I really needed to change.

  Standing next to her at any club was pointless, regardless of what I was wearing. Guys loved her. She was flirty and outgoing. She was what I considered drop dead gorgeous with long, blonde hair full of tight little curls. Her skin was porcelain and her eyes a crystal blue. A small touch of make-up and the right clothes and Colby looked ready to be on the cover of a magazine. No way I could compare. So if I was going to look shitty, why not be comfortable? That was my theory.

  I looked in the fridge one more time, hoping a stray can had somehow gotten lost in the massive collection of leftovers we’d accumulated. No such luck.

  “Get ready!” I heard Colby shout from down the hall.

  Just as I turned to walk towards my room, I heard the doorbell and switched directions. It was probably the neighbor wanting to borrow something again. She had a habit of doing that a lot.

  “Beer?” Spencer held up the bottle and I could feel my mouth watering.

  He was amazing. How he’d known that I would be longing for the taste of my favorite brand was beyond me. He had a knack for that. Anytime I seemed to want or need anything, Spencer showed up and took care of it. Without even a word.

  “How did you know?” I asked as I took the bottle from him and slid over so he could come inside.

  As he did I realized he was carrying a movie and a case of beer. I felt the excitement creep into me, hoping that this would be the night that he’d move past a goodbye kiss.

  “I’m psychic,” he teased, leaning over and brushing my lips with his own. “How’s my girl today?”

  I loved when he called me his girl. It was the closest thing to being an official couple I’d gotten so far. The closest thing to him saying the words that we were together.

  I watched him put the beer into the fridge and I followed him into the living room. Opening our bottles, he sat down and put the movie in. A chick flick that I’d been dying to see. I felt the smile cover my face and knew it wouldn’t subside for the remainder of t
he night.

  It wasn’t until Colby walked out of her bedroom, all decked out for the club and grinning uncontrollably, that I remembered my promise to go out with her.

  Watching as she took in the scene, I felt an overwhelming guilt. Her facial expression went from excitement and happiness to pain and anger.

  “Hi Spencer,” she forced herself to say.

  “Colby,” he acknowledged her. “You look nice. Going out?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I thought Avery was going with me.”

  “Oh,” he suddenly picked up on the anger Colby was exuding. “You were going to the bar?” he looked at me with surprise.

  “Colby wanted me to go with her,” I told him. “Because I never do.”

  “I didn’t think you liked the bar?” he asked, seeming a bit hurt at the idea of me going.

  Spencer and I had discussed this before. Hell, we’d discussed everything. I could have written a book about his life and his interests. He probably could have done the same. And he knew without a doubt that the bar wasn’t exciting for me. Which pleased him because he didn’t have a very high opinion of bar hopping.

  “I was just going to have a drink,” I wanted to take that look of surprise and hurt off of his face. “and to be there for Colby.”

  “I see,” it was still there. “I didn’t think anyone went to have a drink. It’s cheaper to drink at home.”

  I knew how he viewed it. Bars were for hook ups. Drinking could be done anywhere. I’d never agreed with his theory, but Colby made it hard to argue. He also knew that Colby didn’t like him and her goal was for me to find someone else.

  “I know,” I told him. “I just said I’d ….”

  “It’s okay,” he replied, pausing the movie. “I mean, you can do whatever you want to Avery.”

  “I am,” I answered.

  “We can do this tomorrow?” he questioned. “So you can go with Colby.”