by V. F. Mason
“I…I…I want a dose.”
“What?”
“I can’t handle it. I can’t handle it. I want it back.” She was now going from one corner of the room to another while I tried to assess the situation.
“Want what back?”
“The oblivion. I started to play the guitar today. My hands shook, and it was hard, and my fingertips hurt. But that’s not the point. The point is I couldn’t stand it. I…I couldn’t stop all those memories with Nick and me, and it all came down on me. I wanted to move past that, but I couldn’t and I craved that feeling.” She looked at me and screamed hysterically. “I wanted it! Don’t you see? I won’t ever be able to play music again!”
I took her shoulders in my hands. “Stop it, Bella. You will get better.”
“I won’t! Don’t you see? It’s useless! I’ve been here almost two months and I still want it!”
“Bella, I promise you tomorrow—”
“No! Let go of me! The only reason I’m telling you this is because you are my sobriety coach, or whatever the hell that is. You should know it. I’m ruined! My life is ruined!”
I had no idea what was going on, but she was screaming and wasn’t herself.
I recognized this behavior for what it was, and I had no fucking clue how to handle her panic attack right now.
So I did the next best thing. I grabbed her and pulled her to my chest, putting my mouth on hers, swallowing in her gasp of surprise. She struggled at first, but then relaxed in my embrace and became soft in my arms. Her arms circled my neck and she moved closer to me. She tasted amazing, mint and blueberries. She’d probably had them for dinner. She wasn’t wearing any perfume, so she smelled like lavender and vanilla mixed together—the smell I associated only with her. She opened her mouth wider and it allowed me to delve deeper and play with her velvet tongue, which was seeking mine. Her moan of pleasure made me harder and I wondered how much self-control I had. It would be so easy to push her against the wall, circle her legs around my waist, and have my way with her. Then I would…
What the fuck was I doing?
She’d come here for help and I was kissing her to stop the panic attack? Worse, I thought about making love to her while she was at her most vulnerable, and I wasn’t even sure it was me she wanted right now.
What the fuck, Ryan?
I pulled away as quickly as I had pushed us together and took a step back. Her eyes were closed and her lips were red and swollen. She was the epitome of temptation, but like every other temptation out there, I needed to resist her for both of our sakes.
I was here to make her whole again, not to complicate her life by being with me—or worse—having sex with me.
She and I had it once, and I never wanted to repeat “just sex” with her.
She finally opened her eyes, the shadow of desire still lingering there, along with confusion. She licked her lips and I barely contained the moan at her action.
“What was that? Why did you do that?”
“You were having a panic attack. It was a good way to stop it. So you could hold your breath.” She straightened her spine, and—was there hurt in her eyes?
“Thank you, you know, for calming me down. I’m sorry you had to do that.” She spun around and moved to the door.
You had to do that? Now wait a fucking minute here.
“Bella.” My voice was still husky from the desire I felt for her. She stopped, but didn’t turn to face me, not that I could blame her.
“We can’t. I can’t.”
She stood motionless for a few seconds, and then resumed walking and opened the door. But before she left, she snapped her beautiful violet eyes on me and whispered, “I know.”
Watching her leave me was becoming a habit.
Letting her leave me, too.
I punched the door, ignoring the pain in my hand. It was a welcome distraction from what I really felt right now.
Annabella
There were a lot of stupid things I’ve done in life.
I thought one of the stupidest was kissing Nate last night. I couldn’t believe that’s what I ended up doing when I wanted to somehow fix my problem.
There was another thing.
I couldn’t play. I couldn’t freaking play. I knew I had to start practicing, and although I was nowhere near as good as Sam was, my knowledge of the instrument always helped me during rehearsals.
Last night, I took out the guitar Nick had given me as a gift all those years ago. I refused to buy a new one. I thought this guitar held magic.
But now, I felt like it was my curse.
I decided to practice Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep.” It was a hard song to sing; after all, the woman has an amazing voice.
But I wanted to see if my voice could hit the higher notes, and I didn’t want to try our songs. The minute I took the guitar though, I couldn’t do shit. My hands shook, hurt, and couldn’t make any note right. My voice, which once was considered one of the best of our generation, was husky and raspy and worn out, as though I smoked like crazy.
The music, the voice. . . everything. It wasn’t what it used to be.
Then the memories of Nicky had hit, hard. I didn’t know how to handle the pain, the confusion, and everything else. I wanted to forget. Oddly enough, I hadn’t had that big of a desire to have drugs since I’d been in rehab, but that made me want to do it.
It scared me, and I ran to the only person with whom my security was associated, and I knew it was his job to help me.
Well, I have to give him credit for that. He did stop it efficiently, by putting his mouth on mine.
I had never been kissed like that.
As though my life depended on it. It was rough and fast, but at the same time gentle.
That kiss confused me, and it was the last thing I needed. I overacted when he pushed himself away, and I acted like a moron. He’d done the right thing.
Why then did it feel like I was letting go of something special?
Not to mention that ongoing feeling I had inside me that he and I used to know each other. Those eyes of his wouldn’t give me peace. I still hadn’t asked him if he was from here, but Marie called him her boy and she wasn’t from here.
Maybe he just needed a ranch in a small city that almost no one knew about. Yeah, then he’d come to the right place.
I heard the knock on the door and frowned. No one came to my room; well, except nurses, but they didn’t knock. They just barged in. But for the last week, I was the one who went downstairs so they could check on me.
I opened the door and froze.
Nate stood in the doorway, wearing tight blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt that hugged his body just right, and he looked good.
Really good.
I think I needed a shrink after all, because I was bat-shit crazy right now.
His eyes were ice-blue, without any emotions in them, and I raised my brows. I wasn’t about to start the conversation. He’d come to me, so he could damn well open his mouth.
“Why aren’t you downstairs?” He sounded pissed.
“I woke up late. I was about to go.” He nodded and then cleared his throat.
“Once you are done eating, come to my office.” That made me fold my arms together and glare at him.
“Why?”
“Because I said so. And grab your guitar.” With those last words, he gave me one last look and left.
I was standing there with my mouth hanging open and thought, what the hell is wrong with this guy? He was giving out orders like I had to listen to them.
You do. He is in charge of you, remember?
As much as it was annoying to listen to my little inner bitch, she was right. I had to do what he said; but why would he need Nick’s guitar?
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to touch that thing. Yesterday, it almost gave me a breakdown.
I sighed because it seemed this was going to be a long, hard day.
Basically, the norm in my life for the last year.
>
Once I was done with breakfast and took my medication (vitamins), I grabbed my guitar, which felt like it was burning my hand. Obviously, it was my imagination, but still, the feeling was there. I decided not to knock on the door. It was rude, but whatever. I had to have at least some sort of rebellion. Childish? Yes. Did I care? No.
I was about to grab the handle when the door opened and a flushed Rose came out. Her shirt was askew, her lipstick slightly smeared, and she gave me a smirk.
“Hey, you.” Her hair was out of place and she tried to make it look good by running her fingers through it.
“What are you doing here?” My voice was cold, harsh, and angry. She raised one perfectly trimmed brow and narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” She looked at me from head to toe and smirked again. “Good luck with him, darling.” Without waiting around on what she had to say, I stormed inside.
Nate was standing there, straightening his shirt, and then he grabbed some tissues to rub off the lipstick from his face.
Before I registered what I was doing, I grabbed the door and slammed it shut it with all my might, which left an echoing sound that was probably heard all the way into the town.
He snapped his eyes at me, and they widened for a second.
“Bella.” Funnily enough, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Well, hey there, coach.” I sat on the chair and leaned back, making myself comfortable and acting all breezy.
“Hey.” We silently watched each other, and I hoped my eyes didn’t give anything away.
Like, for example, that he was a fucking pig for making out with Rose after we’d shared a kiss. Or how pissed I was and how much I wanted to punch Rose in her pretty face—or him for letting himself be touched by her.
The possibilities here were endless.
But yeah, I hoped he wouldn’t see that in my eyes.
“Nothing happened.” I raised my brow and laughed, hoping it sounded natural.
Why the hell are you so upset about it? He owes you nothing!
“Yeah, right. That’s what I say too when the guy left with my lipstick on his face.” His eyes darkened, his anger evident, but there was something else too. I couldn’t decipher it, so I decided not to dwell on it.
“Why, honey, are you jealous?” That made me still, because fuck if I wasn’t jealous.
But I was.
And it was all kinds of fucked up because what reasons did I have to be jealous?
We had nothing going on here, and I’d known him for only a short time. This whole situation was ridiculous, and it was no one’s fault but mine.
“In your dreams, coach. Why did you call me here?” Yep, avoiding the subject was a really good idea. He said nothing, but then just shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe me, but he let it go.
He pointed to the black couch in the middle of the room, which had wide space around it.
“Let’s sit there. Grab your guitar.” Once I settled, I turned to him in annoyance, giving him my best ‘what else do you have in your plans’ glare, but what I saw made my jaw drop almost to the floor.
He took a guitar case from behind his desk and came to me, removing a shiny, good-looking classic guitar.
My guitar looked like a homeless wreck compared to his, but hey, it was my very first guitar and a gift from Nick. I didn’t want to change it. All the money in the world couldn’t have bought me a better one.
“What is this?”
He gave an amused smile.
“A guitar.”
My eyes narrowed.
“You damn well know what I’m asking you about. What the hell are you doing with it?”
“You need to practice, and I’m going to help you.” I had a feeling he wanted to roll his eyes, but thought better of it.
“How exactly do you think you will help me?”
“I’m going to play with you, that’s how.”
That’s it.
The world officially went crazy for me.
Ryan
The look on Bella’s face was priceless. She had probably never expected to hear something like that from me, but, well, she would deal. I needed to help her. She needed music like she needed her next breath.
I wouldn’t let her suffocate in a world where she lost the second thing she loved the most.
“How will that help me?” Great, now she was in her defensive mood. It seemed I just couldn’t win with her no matter what I tried to do.
“Bella, you are afraid to play. We can do it together, and the minute you feel something suffocating you, you can let me know.” My voice was gentle but firm. She needed to understand what we had to do. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded her head and picked up the guitar.
“What do you want to play?” Either something from her own repertoire or…
“Beatles.” Or not. I just raised my brows but said nothing. I knew she loved rock, but never knew she appreciated the famous band from the ‘60s. I gestured for her to start playing, and with a deep breath, she started to strum a few notes. I recognized the music right from the start. The notes sounded off key because her hands kept shaking and she couldn’t press hard enough, as though she had no strength.
Finally, with a frustrated sound, she let go of it and looked to the side.
“Go on.” She glared at me.
“Seriously? Weren’t you here just now? I can’t even keep up one tune.”
“You are out of practice, and the guitar wasn’t your thing to begin with. There is nothing wrong with that. It’s not unfixable.”
“Right.” She opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something more, but then snapped it shut. She started to play the song again, and had the same problems.
Each time when she gave up, I kept on telling her to pick up the damned instrument and do it again.
After ten attempts, she stood up abruptly, but not before she put the guitar gently aside.
It seemed like she was in love with the thing, and I couldn’t believe I was jealous.
Just like she had when she’d seen me after Rose had tried her poor attempt at seducing me. I had told her to get lost, but did she listen? She’d grabbed my shirt and put her mouth on mine. I pushed her aside before anything happened, but not before she left the damned lipstick of hers on my cheek. I was afraid of her timing as well; I knew Bella was coming soon, and the last thing I wanted was for her to think I went around kissing everyone every fucking day.
Rose needed to go. I didn’t need her unprofessional behavior causing problems between me and Bella.
“Come back to it and play.”
“No,” she said stubbornly, and ran her hands through her ponytail, glaring at me. “I can’t! I just can’t!” Here we go again with the hysterics.
“Why can’t you?”
“My hands shake!”
“They are out of practice!” Damn it, now my voice was rising too, and that was not helping the matter at all.
“It’s about Nick, and not practice,” she finally said, and everything inside me froze. “He is the one who bought me this guitar, and made sure I could play. The minute I take it, all the memories of him and me are alive in my head and I just can’t make it right.” She looked so lost and vulnerable that I couldn’t help but comfort her.
“Come here,” I said, but she just shook her head. “Bella, come here.” I patted the place on the sofa next to me, and after a few seconds of silence, she sat. Her spine was straight as she gazed ahead, her body as tense as it could possibly be. I put my arm behind her shoulders and guided her to lean on me. She struggled at first, trying to get out of my hold, but I didn’t let her.
Finally, she relaxed into my hold and let me comfort her. She smelled like vanilla and lavender, and I wanted nothing more than to get lost in her scent. It was what had hounded me all those years. I put my hand on her head and ran my fingers through her hair as she moaned slightly, and shit if that didn’t do things to my dic
k. That wasn’t what it was about though.
“I miss him,” she whispered, and I closed my eyes.
I missed him too, a lot. He was one of my closest friends, but she didn’t know that.
Didn’t need to know that.
“I know.”
“It’s been almost a year. I still wait for him to come to me and tell me all this was a joke. Funny, right?” she asked self-mockingly, and that made me squeeze her tighter.
“It’s normal.” She didn’t believe me; her silence was an indicator of that.
“I can’t play, or sing. It was okay to sing when I had to pretend because I didn’t want anyone to see there was something wrong with me. I just can’t anymore.” She was devastated, and who wouldn’t be? It was the thing she loved to do, and she probably felt like God took had taken everything away from her, even her talent.
I leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and looked into her eyes, which held confusion, sadness, and surprise all at the same time.
“We will find a way to fix it, okay? I promise.” She nodded and then hid her face in my neck. I felt the hot wetness of her tears and let her silently cry on my shoulder.
She needed me to be her friend right now.
I would always be what she needed me to be.
Annabella
After my incident with Nate, I decided to go back to my room and gather my thoughts.
The memory of his mouth on my skin; it was hot and soft at the same time. Nate had no business doing it, or for that matter, I shouldn’t pay so much attention to him, but I did. I went to the bathroom and turned on the light to look at my expression in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes were slowly fading, and I’d gained some weight. My skin color was healthier-looking, but still I looked like shit.
What could a hot, and in-control guy see in a mess like me that would actually make him want to kiss me? I had no answer for that, and to be completely honest, I didn’t want to know. I had no business starting something with him. I wasn’t ready, and it wasn’t my purpose. I didn’t do relationships. I preferred casual sex, and I didn’t care for the slut shaming out there. If I wanted to have a bit of fun, who’s to say I couldn’t? And what was wrong about it exactly? Sex with him was out of the question. I didn’t want to sleep with anyone right then. I would just have to avoid him, and that sounded like a good idea. Not to mention, I had no idea what the hell was going on with him and Rose.
