Page 25 of The Trouble with Players

“On what?”

“What triggers it.”

He didn’t respond, and I assumed he was trying to figure out what had done it.

If I had to guess, it was the combination of my nightmare, the run-in with my father, and that girl sounding very much like a desperate groupie who preyed on players.

“My mom gets them too,” Crew admitted.

“What causes hers?”

He shrugged. “Life.”

I considered what my life would be like if the episodes didn’t pass and happened anytime I got stressed or overwhelmed. I wouldn’t be able to handle that.

“I should’ve asked if I could invite some people over,” he said.

“It’s your house too.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You wanted to piss me off?”

He shrugged, but I knew it was the truth.

“I’m sorry I was a bitch yesterday.” I tucked a wet clump of hair behind my ear noticing the numbness in my hand had almost worn off.

“I’m sure you had a good reason.”

I pushed myself to my knees. “People are probably looking for you.”

“I don’t care.”

I moved out from under the island and stood up. My legs were jelly, but I was pretty sure I could make it upstairs without an issue.

Crew stood up beside me. “Are you good?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna head upstairs.”

“You want some help?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

His lips pulled to the side, and I could tell he was debating whether or not to leave me alone.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “It wasn’t the first and it certainly won’t be the last. I’ve gotta learn to deal.” I didn’t wait for him to respond. I left him and went upstairs to the guest room. I pulled off the wet clothes and slipped on some dry ones. I climbed under the covers, trying to forget this day ever happened.

“Everyone out!” Crew shouted outside. “Party’s over.”

People groaned and footsteps scampered around. Car engines started in the front yard. And, before long, all I could hear were the ocean waves crashing and Crew moving patio furniture back to where it belonged.

Sometime after I’d fallen asleep, I heard the door open and footsteps neared my bed. I wanted to tell him to stop. But as he lifted the sheets and slipped into the bed behind me, I said nothing.

“Are you okay?” Crew whispered.

“I’m not a delicate flower you need to look after,” I said, a little harsher than I should’ve.

“I never said you were.”

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