Page 131 of Life of the Party

“Don’t be like that. You know you’ll be happier over there.”

“Maybe. But I’ll miss you.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ll see me all the time.” She promised.

I knew I’d see her at work—I’d see both of them at work—but it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same. I forced myself to smile at her as I left, heading down the old rickety stairs, leaving my first apartment behind me. Trying not to think of how excited Charlie had been when I first moved in, how eager we’d been to get high, how we’d spent that whole first night giggling ecstatically. Suddenly I sympathized with Katrina, Charlie’s first roommate. I wondered if, like me, the door had slammed behind her before she’d made it down the stairs.

Grey tried to comfort me. He cooked up an extra shot that night just to raise my spirits. It worked, too. I lay back on his bed with his warm arms around me, and suddenly, I didn’t care about Courtney and Charlie. Suddenly, they didn’t matter. I was with the man of my dreams—I was living with the man of my dreams. I couldn’t believe it. I propped myself up on my arm and just stared at him, amazed.

“What?” Grey asked me casually, suddenly aware of my scrutiny.

“I can’t believe I found you,” I said with awe. “How am I so lucky?”

He smirked at me, his blue eyes shining, and tucked an errant strand of dark hair behind my ear. “I wonder the same thing every time I look at you.”

That night was a memorable one.

But they all were really. I’d never known such contentment…sleeping in Grey’s arms every night, waking up to his gorgeous face every morning, spending every minute we possibly could together. His room grew much messier after I moved in, my clothes were all over the place, underfoot, strewn across his chair and his bed. My makeup dominated the bathroom counter, my shampoo and conditioner and body wash left “slippery shit” all over the bottom of the tub, and my shoes practically overflowed the entryway. For all this, Alex and Zack complained more than Grey did, and even that was done in jest.

Living with three guys was surprisingly easy. They may have been messier than girls in most respects, but they were also painfully easygoing. And if they had a problem with something, they’d say it to my face instead of talking behind my back. We settled into a nice, harmonious arrangement. I’d even managed to forgive Zack for breaking my best (girl) friend’s heart. We never talked about it or brought it up or anything, we just…agreed to disagree. And I’d always loved Alex. He was just too sweet; he was too much fun not to fall in love with, with his long hair and his winning smile. The only disagreement we ever had was whether I should be allowed to knock down the beer-can castle, which had grown larger over the months, now dominating the little dining room. I was strongly in favour of the idea, but he had yet to be swayed.

Winter hit with full force. Its icy claws clung to the windows, glazed up the sidewalks and frosted over the stubble fields surrounding our little frozen town. I was oblivious to it. I was up above the clouds, sailing beneath an eternal summer sun, anchored to the earth by nothing more than Grey’s strong arms around me.

Heroin was like a beach in a needle. It was the only vacation I needed.

At times, when we were more lucid, Grey would take out his guitar and work on his music. That was my absolute favourite. I could sit on the bed and just watch him for hours as he practiced and composed, leaning over his guitar and deftly forcing notes from the strings. Grey would sing to me until I cried, overcome. He’d work on lyrics too, curled up with me on the bed with a pen in his hand. He could write the most beautiful poetry, I was in awe.

He tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me how to do it, how to create.

“Just write what you’re feeling.” He encouraged. “It doesn’t have to rhyme.”

I took the notebook from him, chewing on the end of the pen for a moment.

“Write what I’m feeling?” I asked again.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

Immediately, I put the pen to the paper, scrawling out one single word.

Happy.

And I was. Things had never been more perfect. Everything I’d ever wanted. With every day that passed, I loved Grey that much more. He was my world, my everything. I wished I had the capacity to write it all down, like he did. I wished I could express my feelings for him properly. Just the way his blue eyes lit up when I came home from work, or the way his arm would find me at night and pull me close was enough to fill my heart with delight, to make me sigh with a happiness I never thought possible.

Poor Grey. He’d have to be satisfied with me showing him.

The only real interruption to our bliss was the coming holidays. I dreaded them, knowing I couldn’t avoid my family any longer. Aside from Mom calling on my birthday, I hadn’t spoken to any of them since the wedding. There’d been no invitations to dinner, no phone calls to check in, nothing. Maybe they knew how much I’d stolen from them. Maybe they were so disgusted they didn’t want anything to do with me. I clung to the hope that somehow I’d be able to avoid them that Christmas.

Of course it was only a fool’s hope. Eventually, my phone rang, as I knew it would, and my mother’s overly happy, chipper-to-compensate voice was buzzing in my ear, eager to find out what my work schedule was like and how long I’d be able to stay over the holidays. I gave her Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, knowing if I stayedany longer Christmas would be a negative experience for all of us. She was satisfied with my agenda—though Marcy and Blake were staying longer than I was, she’d take what she could.

Grey laughed at me as I was packing. I shot him a glare and stuffed a sweater into my overnight bag. “You could come too, you know.” I threatened.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t want to interrupt your family time.”

“Please?”

“Sorry, sugar.” He shook his head. “But the boys and I have plans.”

“You do? What plans?” I frowned.

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