Page 43 of On the Line

“Give it a second,” he says, his pupils already blown wide. Clipping his keys back on his jeans, he stuffs the bag back in his pocket, his eyes then bouncing to mine. With twoquick strides, he pulls me away from the sink and presses me against the wall, kissing me with ardor, sliding his hands up my waist and over my breast. “I can’tfuckingwait to have my way with you,” he says, his voice intense and low.

His declaration happens to coincide with the drugs finally hitting my system and a wave of euphoric bliss washes over me like a warm wave. I’ve never felt anything quite like it—like everything and anything is possible. My head falls back, eyes closing and I suddenly want nothing else but Ozzy to do just that.

“Why don’t you?” I rasp, my heart pounding in my chest. My mind feels on fire, my thoughts like lightning in a jar.

I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh, and I’m desperate. So fucking desperate.

But when he hums a no, my brows furrow, and he pulls away once again. His gaze is devious but his tone is serious when he says, “I want you good and sober, the first time we fuck. I want you to remember in vivid detail how I make you scream.”

I wasn’t expecting him to say that. His words touch a part of me that is much too raw to acknowledge. I don’t know what my expression looks like but his face softens and he gives me his hand. “Let’s go get a shot, yeah?”

Something about just being around Ozzy, even simply looking at him, relieves some of the ache in my chest. I laugh, trying to snap myself out of it. “Absolutely,” I say as I open the bathroom door and lead us out.

Stepping back into the main room, time passes. It might be half an hour. It might be two hours. I can’t tell. Time is inconsequential. High off powder up my nose and impassioned kisses shared in secret. Conversation shouted overloud music. Rounds of drinks. Laughter. Camaraderie. Giddiness. Feeling alive. So alive.

And Ozzy.

Ozzy.

Ozzy.

Ozzy.

His smile. Lips. Hands. His words. Stories. His eyes. Watching. Always watching.

I feel so alive.

So ali?—

The fall from bliss is a painful and sudden one.

Zachary is looking at me from across the bar. And suddenly the world around me feels bleak. The sounds too loud. My mind too hazy.

His arm is around Marguerite. She’s not working tonight. And the smug look on his face tells me he came here to hurt.

He’s right.

It does hurt.

But it’s not because he’s here with her.

He’s just an abject reminder. A big red flashing arrow pointing to all the reasons I should have left him earlier. I’m trying desperately not to blame myself for staying.

The memories are penance enough.

I hear Ozzy close by. “You good?”

“I need some air.”

I dart through the crowd, now desperate to be anywhere but here.

I feel the tears coming. It would take a herculean effort to stop them, and I’m too tired.

I’m just too tired.

When the night breeze finally hits my face, I gulp itdown but it doesn’t help. Sliding onto the curb, I plop down onto the sidewalk.

I feel empty.

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