Page 47 of Taste of Addiction

“You weren’t here.”

“I still don’t like it, Angela.”

I cannot fault Graham for having a jealous streak. I have one too. “What would you rather have me do? Fend for myself?”

“Simple, call me first. I gave you a number to reach me. You have it in your phone.” His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my attention back to him. “I thought about you every waking minute of every day. I can barely function when I'm away from you.”

“I really missed you, Graham,” I admit. “Do you have to leave to go back and get Sophia?”

He smooths a strand of hair behind my ears, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “No. She’ll come back alone tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“It takes everything in me not to break down and just move you back in with me, sweetheart.”

“I hate this fake relationship thing you have going on with her.”

I turn my attention away from Graham and fumble with my toothbrush as I remain on the counter. I take care of my teeth. He brushes my hair back and cups my face in his hands, interfering slightly with my brushing technique.

“You’ve lost weight.”

I turn to spit and rinse, adjusting to the position. His hands are on my sides and back again, and I cannot hold back the grimace as his hands touch over my flesh. How can I eat when I’m in so much pain? How am I supposed to chow down when my boyfriend keeps leaving me? When will things just be easy?

He continues to probe and squeeze my skin, and I try desperately to shift away from him and the evaluation. I suppose he is correct. My clothes are fitting a bit looser, my face less full. I didn’t notice before now, but he is right.

“Angie?” he says my name, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

“I keep having these headaches, and eating is the last thing on my mind.”

“Fuck. You’re going to make yourself even more sick by skipping meals. Maybe some of your head pain is from low blood sugar.”

“What time is it? I have to keep working on my project.”

“Late. Just cut your losses and get a few hours’ rest. No point meeting with your professor with eyes you can barely keep open.”

I hate to admit it, but he is correct. I cannot be stumbling over my words when I meet with Dr. Williams. I need to go in with confidence. “Let me finish up in here, and I’ll go lie down for a bit.”

Graham hesitantly nods and walks out of the bathroom.

I slide off the vanity and wash my face. I dig under the sink and find a bottle of Tylenol and shake out three. They are the extra strength kind, which doesn’t mean much, so three will be necessary to curb the pounding. I cup some water in the palms of my hand and swallow back the three white ovals.

“What did you just take?”

I look up with bloodshot eyes to see Graham standing in the doorway.

“Just some painkillers. For my headache.”

“Names and amounts, Angie.”

I prop my hands on my hips at his accusatory tone. His stance is rigid, almost like he is pissed off at me. “Why are you being so overbearing and bossy?”

“Something is going on with you. You are losing weight, popping who knows what, and—”

My eyes narrow and my nose twitches. I brush past him when he takes up too much of the doorway. “Just spit it out, Graham. Quit talking in code.” I throw my hands up in the air in utter frustration. The last thing I need right now, the night before my draft is due, is to deal with his accusatory comments. “You think I am what?” I turn to look at him face-to-face. “A pill abuser? A drug addict? What? What do you think I am?”

“Sweetheart, just calm down and let’s both take a deep breath.”

“No. I am so mentally exhausted that I can’t deal with you right now.” I rip off my clothes and start changing into a pair of pajamas that I have to dig out of the bottom of my dresser drawer. I haven’t been here in weeks it seems, and all of my clothes are wrinkled from the lack of wear.

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