Implode

My eyes snapped open.

Light beamed through the open balcony doors, still flung open from last night. It filtered through the palm trees outside and made ragged shapes on the wall, still in the early morning humidity. I did not recognize the sheets I was wrapped in and for a very bad second there, I almost freaked out. But then I felt the ache in my hips and legs and I closed my eyes and slowly exhaled.

Oh yeah, I slept with a member of a boyband last night.

Wow, I never thought I’d ever say that. Let me say it again-I slept with a member of a multi platinum boyband , who once shared a stage with Michael Jackson. But that thought really didn’t take me aback as much as the next one did-I had slept with Chris.

You’d think this would not sound like such a big deal, considering he WAS my boyfriend, and boyfriends and girlfriends DO that. But for me, it was a huge deal, and I reminded myself that I had sworn not to run. No matter what happened, I could not run.

My stomach was uneasy and I made a quick opinion-wine sucked. If I’m going to have a hangover, at least let me drink something cool beforehand, like absinthe or tequila or rum. The funny thing was, I always knew I’d end up having drunken sex with SOMEBODY down the line, it was bound to happen-but I never thought wine would be the stimulant and I certainly never anticipated the magnitude of my choice on who to sleep with, nor how much it would mean to me.

Chris grunted and shifted in his sleep, and I rolled onto my back to look at him. His hair was sticking up in every direction and he was sprawled on his stomach, one arm hanging off the side of the bed. Like the first time I had ever seen him sleep, I couldn’t really believe how young he looked. To my surprise, I had to battle down the insane urge to wake him up and show him what he had taught me last night.
That scared me so much that I sat up abruptly. Chris didn’t move-he was a very hard sleeper and probably wouldn’t wake up until after lunch. I, on the other hand, had to go to work, and I slowly swung myself out of bed, stretching my limbs slowly until I felt them pop. My back seemed to be on fire, and I rubbed at it absently, then reached down to grab my shorts and bra. After slipping them on hastily, I tiptoed across the room and closed the French doors to the balcony, and the room became mercifully dark. Chris huffed in his sleep and rolled around, but I hurried into the bathroom and closed the door, quietly.

When I saw myself in the mirror, I groaned.

I had stubble burn on my neck, my lips looked swollen. My hair was giving Russell Brand a run for his money, and when I turned sideways, I saw five fingernail marks in my back, faintly red. I swore to myself. Damn man. When had that happened?
Maybe when he was coming? My brain supplied helpfully, and I shook it out of my head. I didn’t even want to go there. If I did, I’d go into the room and do things to Chris that I could never tell my grandchildren, assuming I lived long enough to have any.

Seeing the marks on my back made me look myself over more carefully, and when I peeked down my shorts, my face burned. Damn beards. No wonder I felt raw down there. If Chris hadn’t looked so damn good with facial hair, it wouldn’t be worth it. When I looked at the mirror, I didn’t recognize the person looking at me with confusion. This person had gotten royally laid last night, without the aid of coke or hard liquor. This person had actually enjoyed it AND was in love with the person who had slept with her. I closed my eyes. It hurt to think that way, I couldn’t start off my morning with something that heavy. I needed water and Pepto Bismol. And possibly band aids. A whole plate of bacon to stave off the hangover would be nice, too. I was not ready to face how much I had changed, probably because I never have before.

And all of it was because of that fucker in the next room. And I mean ‘fucker’ in the most affectionate way, of course. And literal, now, I guess. Dammit.

I sighed and turned the water on to wash my face.

The door opened behind me and I froze.

“Hey, what are you doing-holy shit.” Chris stopped as he saw my face and hair. His eyes were half open and he squinted blearily at me. He hadn’t found his shorts, so he was dragging the dark blue sheet behind him.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?”

I blushed bright red, unable to look at him in the mirror.

“You did that.” I accused, and he chuckled, his voice still foggy with sleep.

“You helped.”

I could not argue with that piece of logic, so I hastily tried to change the subject. “What are you doing up so early?”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “I need to pee.”

“Oh, right.” I flushed again. Jesus Christ, since when did the word ‘pee’ make me a nervous wreck? “I’ll get out of your way.”

Chris was amused by my being flustered and he shuffled forward to press a kiss onto my bare shoulder. As he did, he caught view of my back and he turned me towards the light. His hands made me shiver, remembering last night.

“Did I do that to your back?!” He exclaimed, and I could only nod and try to make a joke out of it.

“They’re my battle scars.” I said proudly, and Chris laughed. “Never really heard it described that way.”

I shrugged and turned to leave the bathroom so he could do his business. Of course, he stopped me, his eyes still blinking back the harsh halogen lights of the bathroom.

“Do you feel okay?” He asked quietly, and I nodded, unable to speak. Chris studied me for a quick second, then kissed my cheek and let me go.

“I’ll just be a second and you can get back in here.”

I nodded and left the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The second I did, I mouthed a curse to myself and grimaced. Unbeknownst to me, Chris was doing the same thing behind the closed door.
********************
After he had peed, Chris took a deep breath and splashed water on his face. He felt uneasy, and it had nothing to do with the wine. Nyx was already acting weird-fuck, why had he let her get her way last night?

Um, because she’s got a flat stomach and great boobs and she smelled like satsumas and you fucking love her, you dumb twat?

Chris rolled his eyes. You stay out of this, he mentally scolded, and the Undisputed Truth did not answer, which was disturbing in itself, because you must really have to fuck up for your internal voices not to reply to you. He cursed himself for letting his dick lead him. Now she’d run and he’d have no one to blame but himself. He could have said no, but he was a man and being a gentlemen only went so far. And what Chris knew is that she felt and tasted and smelled like…God, he didn’t even know. The thought of it was enough to make him almost barrel through the door and take her right there.

He tried to push all this out of his mind and opened the bathroom door, but Nyx was no longer in his bedroom. He listened closely and he could hear faint noises from downstairs, so even though it was an ungodly time in the morning, Chris stumbled over to grab his shorts from where they lay on the floor.

After he had yanked on a black hoodie, he went downstairs. The second he rounded the corner, he smelled that goddamn satsuma. It made him think of last night so vividly that he halted on the stairs and inhaled sharply.

“Chris, is that you?” Nyx called, and he answered, trying not to sound too nervous.

“Yeah, I’m right here.”

“Oh, okay.” He peeked down the hall and the door to the bathroom was open, so he went in. Nyx was sitting on the toilet lid with a container of orange stuff that could only be the satsuma, her hair brushed and normal looking, wearing a green t-shirt. The satsuma smell was overpowering, and he blinked. She was rubbing it quickly on her bare legs and arms, and she gave him a quick smile that had no tension in it. Chris relaxed a little, and leaned against the wall, not trusting himself to get close to her.

“You’re not going back to bed?” Nyx wanted to know, looking up at him. Chris almost didn’t hear her, he was watching her hands. He started.

“I might, later. I’m up now.”

Nyx raised her eyebrows at him, but said nothing as she put the top back on her body butter and stood in front of the mirror, digging in a small bag on the counter. Chris just watched her.

She met his eyes in the mirror and tentatively smiled. “What, do I have something on my face?”

Chris smiled, almost to himself. “No.”

“You’re looking at me weird.” She cocked her head at him.

“Am I allowed to look?” Chris countered, pushing himself off of the wall. She immediately flushed-Chris loved it, he didn’t think he could ever get tired of putting that color in her face. He wasn’t used to having that effect on anybody.

He expected her to say something smartass, but she shook her head and bit that lower lip of hers. “You did.”

Chris nodded, not touching her, but hovering close.

She started rummaging around in her makeup bag again, and he couldn’t help himself.

“You going somewhere?”

“Work.” Nyx, trying very hard not to look at him, leaned close to the mirror and began applying her dark eyeliner.

Disappointment seeped through him. He’d never tell her, but Chris hated her work and the fact that she had to go and do it so frequently. She was so damn smart and she was a fucking waitress, for Christ sakes. Deep down he knew that he should be grateful for her having a job on such short notice, for it was what kept her in Florida, kept her close to him. The thought of her going back to Louisiana was something Chris didn’t even entertain, tried not to, in fact.

He was suddenly aware that he was hanging out in the bathroom, just watching her, like a clingy freak. But Nyx didn’t seem to mind, and it was only till he saw her grimacing and dabbing some light brown stuff on her neck that he spoke up.

“What are those?”

Nyx turned around and rubbed her chin at him, her eyebrows raised and her mouth in that fucking side smile. Chris bent closer. “You’re kidding. I did that?”

“You did. You branded me with your goatee.” She affirmed, throwing him a wink, and Chris started to feel a bit better. Surely she wouldn’t sleep with him, flirt with him, and then just leave, right?

“Does it hurt?” He asked, and she laughed and turned towards the mirror, where he caught her grinning to herself.

“Not on my face, it doesn’t.” She lowered her eyes at him, and Chris’ dick got rock hard as he realized her implications.

He laughed, even though it hurt like fucking hell. “That so?”

Nyx nodded, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. Ugh, he wanted to tell her, so bad. He had wanted to tell her last night, through the entire goddamn thing. And if Chris didn’t leave the bathroom, right now, he’d blurt it out and possibly fuck up things when they seemed they would be fine.

“I’m gonna go and get something to drink. You want?” He offered, and she shook her head. “No thanks, babe. I’m good. I’ll be out of here soon.”

Chris stopped on his hasty way out of the bathroom. She had never called him babe before. He sneaked a look at her, but she evidently didn’t see his surprise, she was brushing her hair again.

He didn’t really need something to drink, but he needed something to do with his hands or else he’d be putting them on her, and he couldn’t trust himself. Chris’ heart was racing as he looked through the fridge, not seeing its contents, just standing blankly there in the cold air. This was scary-he had sung countless cheesy songs about being crazy about a girl to the point of stupidity, but he didn’t think it would ever happen to him. He was thirty seven, not fifteen! And he had certainly not EVER had sex like that with anybody, not even Dani, and he had dated her for two years. For only having sex once or twice five years ago, Nyx knew how to move and how to respond to him, just as she had been on his motorcycle. And when he remembered how tight she was-good God, it was enough to fucking kill him on the spot. Chris leaned his head against the refrigerator door-the cold air felt good on his hot face.

Chris knew for the rest of the day he’d be useless.

From the other room he heard Nyx’s cell phone ring and the sound of her voice answering made him take a deep breath. Calm the fuck down, Kirkpatrick. Stop acting like a complete queer. He listened without meaning to the conversation, though he couldn’t really hear much, until he heard her sigh with exasperation.

“Mom, I’m not-…” Her voice got closer.

Chris grabbed a bottle of water so he wouldn’t look stupid and unscrewed the top, trying to look nonchalant. He saw a flash of green disappear into the computer room, then the sound of her shoes on the tile, heading toward the kitchen. She caught his eyes as she entered, and rolled her own, mouthing, “Mom”, and he snickered. It was hard to think of Nyx having a mother, or rather, he didn’t know the force of power the woman had to be in order to bring someone like Nyx into the world.

“No, Mom, I did not know that Christobel was back, neither do I care. I thought she said she’d never come back?” Nyx stopped and leaned against the counter, then mimed a talking mouth with one hand, shaking her head. Chris made a face at the word Christobel, and Nyx nodded in agreement. Suddenly, she froze.

“Oh, she told you about a guy, did she?” Their eyes met. “Is she lying? You never know.”

Chris tried not to smile.

“Well, you tell Christobel big hug, big kiss for me, big fat ‘go to hell’, too. Muah. Tell her Florida was not sad to see her sorry ass go.” Another pause. “I know she’s family, Ma, and don’t give me that guilt trip. No, I know we don’t have much family left. Okay. Yeah. What? Coming home?”

Chris felt sick, and she sighed as she gazed at Chris. “Not right now, Mom. Things…things are good for me here, now. Yeah, I gotta go. Work. Yeah. S' agapo to you too. Bye.” Nyx snapped her phone closed and nervously laughed. “Mom drives me nuts. Yours like that?”

“Sometimes.” Chris amended, and she shot him a mischievous look. “Poor woman is probably saintlike for putting up with you. Should send her a flower basket.”

Chris laughed. “She’s got me and four other girls. What do you think?”

“I don’t even know your Mom and she deserves a friggin’ monument.” Nyx declared, and Chris smirked. “I wanted to buy her a crown and she said no thanks, so I got her a house.”

“Fair trade.”

“How many languages do you speak, anyway?” Chris questioned, taking another drag of his water. Nyx smiled widely; the sight made his heart catch. “Enough.”
“How do you say, ‘I demand a kiss, wench’ in Greek?” Chris wondered aloud, winking at her, and Nyx went beet red.

“There’s…um…wow. Filise is the word for kiss, but wench I’m not sure about.” Nyx stammered, and Chris could not help but throw back his head in laughter.
“Well, get over here and filise me, dammit.” He said, in mock severity, and to his surprise, she drew closer to him, close enough for him to pull her against him. Her mouth met his in what was becoming happy familiarity, and Chris closed his eyes and could not explain the relief he felt. Nyx sighed a little against his touch and leaned into him, her arms sliding around his neck.

And then her damn phone went off.

Chris groaned in irritation and Nyx pulled away from him, pulling out of her pocket and checking the display. She groaned and made a growling noise deep in her throat, pocketing the phone and ignoring the call completely.

“It’s Alan, I forgot I need to go over there this morning and check if he’s doing anything stupid, like drunk dialing socialites.”

He snorted. “Does he know any?”

“No idea. Do you? Lord knows they could only be an improvement on my cousin.” Nyx sighed, and gave him a look of what he hoped was regret for not finishing their kiss.

“I have to go to work.”

Chris forced himself to smile. “Alright. I’ll see ya later, babe.”

“I get off at 2. We’ll go do something, if you’re not in the studio.” Nyx cocked her head to the side and he nodded. “No studio today. I’m going to sit around in my boxers and scratch myself all day long until you get back.”

Nyx snorted. “Gee, the next time someone’s asking what you’re doing with your free time off, you tell them that.”

“I’ll let you take pictures to corroborate.” Chris promised, and she crossed her eyes and scrunched up her nose. “I should only be so lucky.”

“You are.” Chris amended, then tapped his cheek and Nyx giggled as she came forward and pecked him a kiss. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” She winked at him, spun, and walked out of the room.

As soon as she left the room, Chris sighed and mimed a gunshot through the head. Today was going to suck.

How many times have I looked like that, I wondered wildly, crazy to the point of carelessness? Seeing someone else doing it made me realize how fucking horrible it looked. It looked sick.

"So you fucked him, huh?” Alan spoke, and I jumped; I had no idea that he knew I was standing there, my mouth open, trying to deal with the conflicting urges to use or be disgusted.

“What the fuck are you doing, Alan?” I whispered, and he dropped the glass straw with a PLINK sound on the hardwood table. His head swung towards me, his eyes wild and scarily unfamiliar in his face, which I’d know from anywhere, no matter how fucked up I was. Looking at him was like looking through a sideways door where I sat in a corner and clawed my own hair out.

“Answer me. You fucked him.”

“Christ, Alan, that isn’t any of your business.”

He coughed and wiped his nose, I could see blood snaking its way out of one nostril. I felt so sick. His eyes accused me and it made me wince. This was judgement, after all I had done before?

“I know you did.”

“Were you watching in the window or something?” I retorted, and Alan chuckled bitterly to himself.

“I’m not that kinky.”

Silence fell between us and I forced myself to step into the room, even though I could smell him from across the room, and the need to go after that coke was fucking crippling.

“Have you been doing this all night?” I asked quietly, and he nodded, trying a mirthless smile. “I can kind of see why you like this stuff. Insane rush.”

I sank down into a chair near the door. “You’re supposed to be the together one, Alan. I’m the fucked up one. Why are you giving up everything?”

Alan glared at me. “Oh, I have everything? Says the girl freshly fucked from Chris Kirkpatrick’s bed while I have no one?”

I felt rage implode in my chest. “Stop saying that word!” I shot hotly, my face reddening.

“What word? ‘Fucked?’ What, did he not call it that?” Alan snapped, and I felt tears well in my eyes, as hard as I tried not to.

“C’mon Nyx, tell me. Did you fuck him just because he was famous?” Alan jeered, and my nails dug into the side of the sofa. I looked at Alan, absolute hate crashing through my stomach, the tears stopping almost as soon as they had started.

“No more then I fucked you for being rich.” I said acidly, and Alan was taken aback.

“We were different. We didn’t fuck.”

I howled in vicious laughter. “You’re right. It took you an hour to even get to it.”

His face darkened and even I could not believe my ugliness. I had never said a word about his inability to perform, it was a level even I didn’t like to fall below.
“You’re lucky you’re not a guy. I’d get you killed for that.” Alan said tightly, his eyes little slits in his face.

I snorted. “What, you part of the Mafia now? Bring it the fuck on, asshole. I could take you without blinking a goddamn eye. What I should do is fucking leave this room and let you OD.”

I had never felt rage and hate like this, and I had said and done some really fucked up things. But Alan was pressing that internal button that I had, the one I had never even considered pushing, because it was the part of me that would not mind separating someone from their life.

“I never did that to you.” Alan pointed out angrily, and I fixed him with my most disdainful glare.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Alan sighed in exasperation.

 “Nyx, I’m gay.”

I just sat there, my mouth hanging open in what I’m sure was a very unattractive manner. My brain could not grasp the two concepts-Alan, gay? Like oil and water. Iraq and peace. Complete oxymorons.

He just sat there, looking very sick, as if he wished he could snatch the words out of the air and stuff them back inside himself.

“You’re not gay.” I managed to croak.

Alan snorted. “I think I’d know if I were gay.”

I shook my head. “It’s the coke and the liquor and everything else making you think crazy shit. Once I thought I had bugs attacking my tongue.”

He shook his head, quite sadly. “No, I think I’ve known it for awhile.”

“Since when?” I screeched, the full comprehension finally swooping down on me like angry bats.

He shrugged and fiddled with the straw on the table. “I don’t know.”

“But you slept with Christobel. You slept with me, five years ago.”

Alan scoffed in impatience. “Nyx, please don’t tell me you’re that clueless, I know better. Christobel and I never once saw each other naked, Jesus Christ, that’s gross. I paid her to keep her mouth shut. You should know your cousin-she’ll do anything for the right price.”

“And me?” I whispered, my throat dry. Things were starting to make a terrifying amount of sense.

Alan’s eyes softened as he looked at me. “I’m sorry I never told you that you weren’t the reason for…you know, the problem I had back then. I always thought it bothered you, kept you back from having relations with other guys.”

I let out a breathless snort of disbelief. “Christ, you think?”

“Nyx, let me tell you something-you are enough to make any man’s head spin. Shit, even mine, and I know I love the cock. It’s never been you, God, you know how much I hated myself for it, back then?” Alan tried to make a joke out of it, but he could only manage a painful smile.

“So, what the hell was all that junk about wanting to be with me again? Were you trying to prove to yourself that you weren’t really gay? I mean, fuck, Alan, I’m really confused here.” My head was spinning, my stomach rolling uneasily.

Alan considered it. “I think it was that and the fact that, if not for all the things keeping us apart, you’re still the woman I’d want to be with, if I did want to be with a woman at all. Plus, I sort of selfishly thought sooner or later you’d get tired of being alone and would come back, and maybe I could tell you and we could be fucked up together, if we had to be.”

I glared at him, my nostrils flaring. “That’s despicable.”

Alan waved his hand at me tiredly. “I know. It’s a horrible thing to think. I told myself that even if worse came to worst, I wouldn’t tell you that. I couldn’t ask you to be with me just for the fear of me being found out. And then Christobel came along and she was perfect, in a way. She’d do anything for some money and it made her happy to think she was getting one over on you, though I’ve always thought it was very much the opposite. The worst part of it is that I would rather live with that damn woman for the rest of my life, paying her to keep quiet, rather then having anyone find about it.” He shuddered at the thought, and I knew instantly what he meant-his parents. They weren’t the most open minded folks around. If Alan came out, his cushy life would end in a second. As long as he stayed in his closet, his future was secure, he was the only Crane child and would stand to gain everything for his silence. Pity bubbled up inside of me, a feeling that I could not help when it came to Alan.

“What were you paying my cousin?” I wanted to know, bracing myself for the answer. Alan laughed. “If I told you, you’d kill me.”

“Probably so.” I admitted, cracking a small smile.

“Let’s just say it was enough to keep quiet, and it worked, for awhile. But she left, and I’m sitting here freaking out because I have no idea what she’ll say or do.” Alan yanked at his hair in frustration.

“Did you make her sign a contract?” I asked, since I knew rich people had contracts for everything.

Alan nodded. “Yeah, but Christobel-you know her, Nyx. She doesn’t keep honor in the highest regard.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” I muttered under my breath, and sighed. “Why did she leave if it wasn’t because of me?”

Alan smirked. “Oh, it was because of you, but not in the way you think. She left me because she knows I let you do coke. And you know what she said on her way out, with all her shit?”

“This ought to be rich.” I rolled my eyes.

“She looked at me and said, and I quote-‘I don’t like the fucking bitch, but she’s family.’”

This was like a double whammy after the whole ‘I’m gay’ thing, and I started to choke, making sputtering noises.

“That’s why she got you out of bed, Nyx. I was confused at first, because no offense, I thought she didn’t give a rat’s ass about you. But it turns out, Christobel does have what appears to be a very grudging respect for you. And when I mean grudging, I mean she’d rather die then admit it.”

I shook my head, my mouth dry. “This is too much.”

Alan raised his eyebrow. “Is life finally getting a bit too real for you?”


I flipped him off, scowling. “What else did she say?”

He shrugged. “Then she told me that if you died and the family found out I was helping you through withdrawal by giving you more and more coke, she’d out me so fast my head would spin. I really can’t say I’d blame her, but Nyx, I didn’t know what to do.” Alan pleaded, and I waved off his apologies, a lump in my throat.

“Don’t.”

A very awkward sort of silence descended on the room, and I leaned my head back against the seat, my brain hurting from all of this information. Alan was gay. Christobel actually gave a shit about me. I was in love with Chris. It was just way too much data to process at 8:30 in the morning, and I still had to get to work. I raked my hands down my face, groaning.

Alan broke the silence first. He fumbled in his pants pocket and drew out a piece of paper, and tossed it with a harsh laugh onto the table, on top of the coke.
“What’s that?” I asked, from between my fingers.

Alan sniffed. “Lance’s number. He gave it to me at the party.”

I uncovered my face. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. Imagine that,” He let out a very humorless laugh. “you fall in love with one popstar, and the one gay member of the damn band looks at me for one second and figures me out. Fucking gay dar.”

I laughed, despite myself. “Well, you gonna call him back?” I teased, and he shot me the finger, his face reddening.

“Hell no. It’s one thing being gay and it’s another popping up to your parents and telling them not that not only do you love the wrong gender, you picked a famous one to queen around with.”

“Lance is cute! And Southern. Can’t get much better then that.” I protested, winking, but Alan just waved my words away.

“Shut up, asshole. Besides, off the subject-I could not help but notice that you didn’t deny the ‘in love with Chris’ comment.”

Heat flared up my neck, and I cursed to myself. “Fuck you and your divine queen knowledge.” I muttered. Alan’s eyes got wide. “Holy fuckin Christmas, I was just taking a stab in the dark.”

I grabbed a fussy pillow from behind me and hurled it at his head. It fell pathetically to the floor beside him and he didn’t even notice, because he was goggling at me.

“My God, Nyx. You really are, then?”

I kicked at the floor in supreme exasperation. “I don’t fucking know, Alan.”

“Oh, don’t even lie to me, Nyx. I know you too well. Jesus God, this is serious. What, is he the first person you’ve ever loved?” Alan peered at my face, and I fought down the urge to throw something hard at him, like a bowling ball.

“You say that like I’m a heartless shrew.”

“You are.” Alan admitted, and I gave him a Look. “Thanks, dickface.”

“I can’t believe this. Are you going to tell him?” Alan was still wide eyed, staring at me.

I snorted. “Gee, I don’t know, I’ll think about it while you paint my toenails and have a pillow fight. Fuck, Alan, I don’t know. Yes? No? Maybe? Probably so? All those fit. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him.” Alan suggested, and I screeched in indignation. “Yeah, I’ll tell him when you tell your parents you’re a flaming homo.”

“Look, Nyx-I saw the guy looking at you yesterday. The motherfucker is gone, do you hear me? Who’s to say he’ll judge you? I looked him up on the Internet. Dude came from practically nothing-who is he to pass judgement on anything? He seems like a really understanding guy.”

I gave Alan my ‘are you fuckin serious’ look, and he sighed impatiently. “Nyx, all I’m saying is, maybe he’s what you need to straighten up, fly right. When’s the last time you had a drink?”

“Last night.” I shot back, and Alan glared at me. “You drink in front of him?”
“Goddamit, MOM, he has no idea. And for Christ sakes, it was wine. It made me tipsy. Plus, he was much drunker then I was.” As soon as the words left my lips, I realized how bad it sounded.

“Oh, so Mr. Boyband got you fucked up on cheap wine and had sex with you?” Alan exclaimed, and I hastily jumped to rectify my mistake.

“Good Christ, no, Alan, have you forgotten who you’re talking to? How many times have I been three sheets to the wind and fought off horny idiots? Do you really think I would let him have sex with me like that?” I scowled, and he held up his hands in supplication. “Okay, okay, point taken. But if you were both drunk, and he tried, and he’s not in traction, then that must mean you wanted it.”

I shot up from my chair, flushing red. “Since when is all this goddamn information your business? For the record, just so we can get off the goddamn subject, I was the one who pursued it, okay? He didn’t want to, not while we were drunk, but I got him to. Happy now?”

Alan just gaped at me. I raked my hands through my hair and cussed to myself, falling back into the chair again.

“I think you’re breaking my mind.” He confessed, and I let out a hard laugh. “Gee, you think? You’re gay, Christobel grew a heart, and I’m the biggest tramp in Florida. Why don’t the men in jackets come and take us away?”

“Well, one thing’s for sure, he sure as hell didn’t give it to you hard enough to get that fucking chip off your shoulder.” Alan’s words made my ire rise again, but his tone was mischievous, and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself.

“Some things never change, Crane. Not even with a righteous lay.”

“No, and that’s the problem. Look, if you love him, Nyx, don’t be an idiot. If you can’t tell him, you have to try.”

“I did try! I have been trying! I’ve been in hell, Alan! Hell! You don’t even want to get to where I am now. It would boggle your fucking mind.” I shook my head and let out a disgusted sigh.

“I’m proud of you for trying.” Alan said softly, and I raised my eyes to look at his, not trusting the unfamiliar words. Awkward silence stretched between us, and I gruffly nodded at him.

“Thanks.” That was all I could let myself say, and felt my legs pulling me up of my own accord to cross the room and give Alan a tentative hug. He returned it, and I was relieved to feel that we were just Alan and Nyx again, just without the regrets and the pity. Except now we had huge secrets between us, and I didn’t want to think about having to deal with it right that second.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He said quietly, into my ear.

I smirked into his shoulder. “I’m honestly kind of disappointed in myself for not figuring it out sooner. I mean, what hetero wears fucking duck shorts?”

“Fuck, would you get off the duck shorts, Nyx?” Alan pinched me and I snuck him a light jab in the stomach in return.

“God, no. You’re lucky you weren’t assailed on the street by angry queens.” I joked, and he pushed me away from him, making a face.

I sank down into the chair opposite him and tried not to look at the coke spread out all over the table.

“Where’d you get all that?” I jerked my chin at it. Even I had never seen so much coke before.

Alan managed a sad little smile. “Money gets you everything, my dear.”

I reached over and picked up the straw, it felt familiar and comforting below my fingers, like an old friend. My entire body was quivering with anticipation, I couldn’t help myself. Chris’ influence on me only went so far, unfortunately-I was still me.

“Well, in honor of your queenliness and my inability to stay away from men who are too good for me, let’s snort a few celebratory lines together.” I wiggled the straw at him.

Alan gasped. “Nyx, are you crazy?”

“I’m an addict, as you once called me. And don’t even sit there and tell me I can’t, because this is my straw and you’ve been high as a kite all night.” I threatened, and Alan shook his head and reached to take the straw from me, but I pulled it out of his grasp.

“One line, Alan.” I begged, unable to keep my eyes from the white powder sparkling dully up at me.  “One, and we’ll flush it.”

“Nyx, one is too many for you. Stop it, didn’t you hear anything I just told you? That I’m proud of you for trying to stay clean? Fuck, sometimes I don’t believe you have a brain between your ears.” Alan folded his arms and sat back into the seat, scowling. I met his eyes.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be my father. You have no idea how badly I need this.”

Alan glanced over at me. “No, Nyx. You have no idea how badly you DON’T.”
“One and the same, from where I’m sitting.” I bent my head and hovered above the lines, pushed the straw inside my nose, and gave a hard, almost painful pull. It burned more then I remembered and I fought to keep my composure, enduring the harsh chemical smell as I quickly finished the line. It hit my fucking brain like a sledgehammer.

“Oh.” I tossed my head back and sniffed a few times, and I felt Alan’s eyes on me.

“Oh, that’s fucking fantastic.” I muttered, rubbing my nose. My eyes met his and I held out the straw.

“If you can do it all night, you can do it one more time.” I said, quietly.

I thought he’d yell at me, but instead he slid it from my fingers, and I watched my best friend do the one thing he was too good for.

I’m such a bad fucking person.

He hadn’t gone back to sleep, had spent the morning watching TV, thinking about Nyx, texting Joey, thinking about Nyx, Twittering, and thinking about Nyx. After a while, he had retired to the backyard, restless for something to do, hoping the maid had forgotten to do something so he could occupy his mind. Unfortunately she wanted to keep her job and had done a thorough cleaning on the backyard, so Chris was grilling a few hot dogs so he could clean up all over again. He wasn’t really hungry, but anything was better then sitting on his ass and wondering if she’d come back.

He had forgotten the ketchup and was entering the house to retrieve it when he heard noises coming from the computer room. Chris paused and listened.

“Hello?” He called out, suspiciously.

The noises stopped. “Chris?”

Oh thank God. Chris forgot about the ketchup and rounded the corner to greet her.

“Hey, babe, what’s-…” He stopped in the doorway, his eyes on the suitcase sitting on his spare bed. Nyx looked up at him, her eyes wide, her arms full of clothes, still in her black waitress’s uniform.

Chris felt his stomach lurch, and he leaned against the doorframe.

“I knew it.” He said quietly.

Nyx bit her lip. “Knew what?”

“That you’d run.”

His words made her sigh, and she dropped her clothes into the open suitcase.
“Who says I’m running?”

Chris folded his arms. “You’re packing a suitcase. Not exactly hard to put together.” Nyx sat down on the bed slowly, taking a deep breath.

“Christ, see, that’s why I didn’t want last night to happen.” Chris said disgustedly, and she shook her head. “Don’t be like that, Chris.”

“Like what? Sorry, I just don’t like people fucking with my feelings. I apologize if it’s a foreign concept to you.” His words were acid, and he expected her to fly at him, but she just closed her eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck with your feelings, Chris.”

“Fine, then what’s with the suitcase?” He retorted, jerking his head at it.
“It doesn’t mean what you think it does.” She intoned quietly, and he exhaled, looking away from her. “An open suitcase only means one thing.”

“It doesn’t mean that I’m leaving you.”

At her words, Chris’ anger vanished, and he turned to peer at her.

“You’re not?”

Nyx laughed, and the sound soothed Chris, who, for a second there, was considering kicking something, preferably the suitcase.

“God, you must be catching my paranoia. No, I’m not leaving YOU. I’m just going back to live at Alan’s. He’s alone in that big house and I’m worried about him.”
“I’d be throwing a party if I were him.” Chris said uncertainly, and she snickered a little. “That just means that you and I both aren’t masochists. I don’t understand him, either.”

“You don’t have to leave, you know. I love having you here.” Chris’ words came out in a rush, and he wanted to knock himself a good one. God, what a pussy.

Nyx nodded. “And it’s not like I don’t like staying here. In fact,” She smiled softly to herself. “I like this place tons. It beats that huge piece of shit house.”

Chris couldn’t argue with her without sounding like a clingy idiot, so he didn’t press the subject any longer. He relaxed against the doorframe, putting his hands in his pockets so that he didn’t grab her.

She grinned at him. “I can’t believe you thought I was dumping you.” She teased, and Chris rolled his eyes heavenward.

“Haven't we been through this before? I thought you were going to feed me that bullshit line of wanting to be friends.”

Nyx’s hair caught the light as she vehemently disagreed. “I don’t believe in that line.”

“Good, because I was going to tell you-I want to do things to you that I don’t want to do to my friends.” Chris took a step closer and Nyx’s eyes widened, her face went pink. She stood up hurriedly and began to resume packing, trying to hide her face.

Chris couldn’t believe he was talking like this. Who am I, saying this shit? He wondered, and had to bite his cheek to stop from laughing, almost humming a few bars of his song out of full reflex.

“Besides,” She spoke up, catching Chris by surprise. “it’s not like I’m not going to come back over, or that you can’t come over to the house. Alan doesn’t mind you coming by. Christobel’s not around to fuck with you, either.”

Chris let out a derisive snort. “I doubt it very much that Alan doesn’t mind, Nyx.”
She caught his eye. “Trust me, he doesn’t.” She said, very quietly, and oddly enough, Chris believed her.

Nyx zipped her suitcase and pulled it off of the bed, then sat down on it. She patted the spot next to her, and almost immediately, Chris’s stomach began to do the stupid little flips that always occurred when he was close to her. He sat down next to her, immediately smelling the satsuma wafting off of her skin.

Nyx, slowly, tentatively, slid her hand onto his. “I’m not going to run, Chris. Do you believe me?”

Chris looked straight at her. “Sometimes.”

But his fingers closed around hers, and the corner of her mouth turned up. “Fair enough.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few seconds, and then Chris squeezed her hand. “Are you hungry? I’m making hot dogs outside. Which are probably burnt by now.” He added wryly.

“I ate at work, but I’ll get changed and come outside with you.” Nyx yanked at her tie and made a face.

Chris picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, then got up and left the room, not knowing if he should be full of relief or sadness.

It had been harder then I thought it would be, to lie to him.

But how was it a lie, I wondered, when I would be coming back?

“Hola Amparo. ¿Cómo es usted?” I asked, and she looked at me in surprise. I couldn’t blame her. Two weeks ago I had taken a swipe at her, like a scalded cat.

“Bueno, Señorita. I take your suitcase?”

“Gracias.” I began to climb the steps, I was exhausted from the day’s events, not to mention emotionally bankrupt. I was flying high and hadn’t eaten since the BBQ, and I knew I wouldn’t be hungry for about two days.

Alan wasn’t in my room when I entered, which was a relief, because I was tired of being accosted every time I came back to the house. I sat down on the side of my bed and put my hands on my knees, hanging my head, my eyes closed. I had to be sure about this. Was I really serious, was I really going to jump off the cliff, was I going to do the thing I feared the most, facing life? The prospect was more terrifying then loving Chris, losing my family’s favor, even death.

I swallowed and fought back the wave of bile in my throat. One thing at a time. Tonight was my last chance. If I got through tonight, I’d take anything God dealt out to me, good or bad, because I don’t hope for the former and I deserve the latter.

I reached over to my bedside table and picked up the phone.

When it connected, I spoke.

“Venga arriba, Maria. Sólo.”

I didn’t care. I wasn’t even worried about whether I’d live. I just knew that this felt fucking awesome. Out of nowhere, I started humming a few off key notes of “Hey Jude” and sank lower in the tub.

“Don’t make it bad, take a sad song-make it better…”

I closed my eyes, but they were still rolling around behind my eyelids. My jaws were killing me from all of the clenching.

Nyx, you need to stop.

I groaned. “Shut up Alan.” I flung my arm out of the tub, but I didn’t hit him. I did manage to knock over the absinthe bottle, but nothing came out, it was empty.
“Oops.” I slurred to myself. “Pick that bottle up, Alan.”

But he didn’t answer, and I opened my eyes, glancing around blearily. Nobody was in the bathroom with me. A chill slid down my back, but I thought it was the water growing cold and I immediately started to climb my way out. I was still in my clothes, soaking wet, and I slipped on the side of the marble tub and rolled to the tile, my head smacking against it.

“Ow.” I muttered, but did not make a move to get up. I laid there in a wet puddle and my eyes blinked rapidly.

Look at me, Nyx.

Chris? I fought to keep my eyes open. Fuck me, I was so tired.

“I can’t, Baio. I’m going to sleep.” I murmured, rolling over on my side. Blood dripped onto the floor; I tasted the iron of it between my lips.

This wasn’t fun anymore.

I didn’t move from my spot for awhile.

The X was starting to wear off, but I knew I still had coke in my system, so I wasn’t going to sleep any time soon. I had never felt so drained in my life-my damp body felt like limp spaghetti. I heard the maid knock once more.

“Señorita?”

“Too much noise.” I muttered, my fingernails scratching dully at the carpet. I heard a pause and finally, the sound of shoes turning and fading down the hallway.
Up on my bedstand, my cell phone started to vibrate and Avenged Sevenfold blared through the seven thousandth loop of Atmosphere on my Itouch. It felt like someone was taking a knife and severing my head in two, so loud was the sound in my ears. I dragged myself to a sitting position and managed to knock it off of the bedstand. The name on the display blurred as I squinted.

Chris.

Ugh, couldn’t answer it. I put it down and let it go to voicemail, my eyes drooping.

Why had I done this? Remind me again why I had chosen to engage in the most intense substance abuse I had ever done, right when I had everything to live for? I couldn’t remember, I dimly thought of wine and the impossible white of Chris’ teeth, the way he looked at me as he pulled off my helmet at the paintball tournament. Alan’s voice came out of Chris’ mouth, and the words were all out of sync. Haha. NSYNC, out of sync. I made a funny.

Doctor says you’ll die.

“I’m tough.” I muttered, my mouth filling with blood from my nose, which kept gushing sporadically, no matter how many pieces of toilet paper I had jammed into it.

“Look at me, Nyx.” Alan said urgently, but it was Chris’s mouth that formed the words, and the last thing I remembered before spiraling into a deep, dark nothing was that I had everything to gain, and that’s why I had done this.

My lips felt cracked and blistered, my nose was on fire and I was pretty sure I had bloodstains on the neck of my shirt. I hadn’t brought any clothes with me to this hotel, which was far away from Vizcaya Park and certainly not a place where anyone of Chris’s or Alan’s stature would go. I had woken up, puked for an hour, then grabbed my bag and went downstairs to check out. My phone was off. I had ten voicemails, but had listened to none.

It was over.

Chris hurled his phone into the sofa, barely missing the edge of his coffee table. “Goddammit!” His jaws snapped over the word, and he fell onto his couch, his arms over his face.

Sixteen times, he had tried calling Nyx. And that was just in the past two days. She had vanished from the face of the Earth, again. And Chris had been stupid enough to believe that she had been telling him the truth. Shit, she had acted convincingly enough. She had actually kissed HIM on her way out, not the other way around. Chris fought to remember the look in her eyes as she turned away from him and walked down the driveway. Had she looked sad? Angry? Frustrated? Happy? God, if he could only remember!

Chris stood up, grabbed his phone, and hurried out of his front door.