Page 111 of Life of the Party

“This coming from a girl who can chug straight whiskey with barely a grimace.” He looked up at me fondly, amused. “Wonders never cease.”

I watched as Grey divided the dirty powder into two lines, lighting a smoke, tapping my hands against my jeans, anxious and eager. I honestly didn’t know enough about heroin to even think of the consequences like I usually did. It had always been some far off legend, something people did in the city—apart from us, removed.

Even if I’d known more about it, other than how good it seemed, the drugs were too alluring, the high too enticing for me to even consider not doing it. There was no turning back now. Soon, the pain I felt for Riley would be a distant memory.

“You have to be careful with this shit.” Grey was saying. “You can’t do too much. It’s really easy to OD, even easier than coke. Just take a little to start, and see how you handle it.”

“Okay.” I nodded excitedly.

“This one’s for you.” He pointed to the smaller of the two lines on the mirror and then handed me a straw. I grabbed it from his hand and took a deep breath.

“Mackenzie?”

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday,” Grey smirked. I giggled at him, nearly giddy, and leaned towards him over the mirror so we could share a brief, happy kiss. Then, tremulous and excited, unable to wait for another second, I bent down over the glass with the straw gripped tightly within my shaky fingers.

As I did so, there was a brief flash in my mind. I saw Riley’s face, and he was shaking his head at me, as if willing me, pleading for me not to do it. I heard his voice again.“… Promise me you’ll be careful…”

I shook the image away and bent down to my task, even more determined now.

Screw you, Riley. You never should have left me.

I chased the line quickly, impatiently almost. The heroin shot up my nose, smoother than the cocaine—like it was softer, somehow. I felt it hit my nostrils, felt the sweet burn radiate from deep within my sinuses.

And nothing was ever the same.

PART 3

CHAPTER 45

I was actually disappointed at first, like I’d been expecting my brain to explode from a mind-ravaging high or something. Grey did his line, and then we lit a smoke, leaned back against the headboard and just…waited for it to hit. Grey flipped on the TV, and we laughed together as the UFC slowly warmed into view.

I still didn’t feel anything. I thought maybe the line Grey made for me was too small. But then, I began to notice it.

It started small; I could feel it creeping up on me—slowly, building in intensity. I reached down for Grey’s hand and laced my fingers through his, glad he was with me, happy to be sharing this with him. He turned over towards me and propped his head on his hand, studying my face, his blue eyes eager as they swept over me.

“I want to watch.” He smirked. “I want to know the moment you feel it.”

I nodded, but I suddenly found it hard to speak. Wave after wave of warmth was crashing over me—blissful heat, the perfect temperature, pouring all over my body—loosening my muscles until they felt weak and heavy, beyond the point of relaxed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it hit me; I just knew I felt it, and it seemed like I’d felt that way forever. I melted back against the bed, unbelievably tranquil, overwhelmingly comfortable, snuggled on a cloud of the softest, warmest air.

Nothing mattered then, just like Grey said. Not Riley, not the pain.

Nothing but how good I felt.

Grey was kissing me, his lips brushing over my face. I tried to smile for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” His voice was low in my ear.

“Yes.” I couldn’t raise my voice above a whisper. I nodded weakly. “Yes…”

Time passed. I had no idea how much time, but it felt like ages. We didn’t talk much. There wasn’t much to say. I was perfectly content just to lay there, to let the warmth have its way, to shut my eyes and let my body soften, like butter, against the mattress in total, euphoric apathy. I didn’t have a care in the world. There wasn’t one thought that could interfere, not one emotion that could penetrate the heroin’s silky embrace, the velvety soft blanket that was draped over me. It was like heaven.

Then I felt something else. I felt sick. My eyes fluttered open as my stomach twisted with a sudden surge of nausea. “Grey?” I forced myself out of bed, amazed I had the strength to stand. I clutched my stomach as it lurched and hurried towards the bathroom.

“It’s okay,” Grey called to me from the bed. He could hardly open his eyes. “You’ll feel better…after…”

I barely made it to the toilet. My body heaved as I retched, trying to purge the poison from my system, emptying my insides over and over again. Even the vomiting felt good, though, in its own way. When the tremors finally receded, I collapsed on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, sweaty, shivering from the effort as the racking nausea faded at last.

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