Page 23 of Close to Falling

“This, in my fucking hand,” River says, and I slip my shades off and look at his hand. A little pill is between his thumb and index finger.Oh shit.It must have fallen out of my pocket.

“It’s just a sleeping pill,” I lie as panic sets in.

“Bullshit.” He sees right through me and turns around to head inside.

“River,” I call after him, but he is on a mission. I jump up and follow him into the house. He walks up the stairs, taking two at a time, and my stomach drops. “River, what are you doing?” I say up to him. I look out the front door. Frankie’s truck is still gone, so I run up the stairs, too. “Don’t do anything crazy.” I make my way down the hall and hear chaos. Drawers are thrown out of my dresser, and my mattress is flipped. He walks into my closet and empties my shoes.

“What the holy fuck!” I scream. “Stop!”

“Where are they, Maddie?” he asks. His face is red with anger, and I sink back.

“Where is what?” I ask, playing dumb for no reason because he knows I’ve been popping pills like a kid with bubble wrap, and I almost feel like I can’t stop, so I am praying to everything holy he doesn’t go to the top shelf of my closet. But he does. Swiping it with his hand, he feels it, and in seconds, he has the bag in his hand and runs to the bathroom.Why didn’t I put them under the board?Panic rushes through my chest. I hit him on his back when he pours them into the toilet. I scream and yell for him to stop until my voice is hoarse, and I can’t let another word come out. He looks at me with rage, but he sees me. He sees how bad I am. How hooked I’ve become, and his eyes look sad.

“B,” he says, grabbing me. I grip his shirt and sink to the floor, crying because I’m scared now. He sinks, too, and rocks me. “Baby B.” He kisses my hair. Salty tears fall down my cheeks, and I calm down, moving away from him and giving him an icy glare.

“Today is my birthday!” I yell because I’m not seventeen. The drugs have made me seven, and I throw a fit. I storm out of the bathroom and slam the door shut, kicking it for good measure. I pick the drawers up and toss them toward the dresser, saying every cuss word in the book. River opens the door and leans against the doorway, but I keep going. I pick up my lamp and throw it against the wall, letting it crash to the floor. It cracks, and I’m glad. I look at him. Arms folded across his chest, he looks concerned for me. I swallow and shake my head. “You’re scared,” I say, pointing at him and taking the heat off me. “You’ve been tiptoeing around me for weeks because you’re fucking scared!”

“B, calm down.”

“No!” I yell. “I’m sick of this. Do something already!”

“What?” he asks, but he isn’t stupid. He knows what I mean. The looks, the war in his green eyes—I know he wants me, and I want him, too, so why the hell isn’t anything happening?

“You know what?” I say, walking over to him and shoving him, but he doesn’t budge. “Do something,” I say again, shoving him once more. He grabs my hands, and I snatch them away and look into his eyes. “Kiss me. Touch me. Do something!” I yell. His look changes from worry to want in an instant. He walks farther into the room and slams the door shut behind him. I step back.

“No,” he says. “Don’t act scared now.” He steps closer to me, searching my eyes, making sure this is what I want. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Yes,” I say with every bit of the confidence I feel. He takes two steps before he grabs me. I’m lifted as his lips press against mine. It's heaven and hell, and water and air. It’s tobacco, boy shampoo, and just showered hair. It’s sunshine and lying on cotton. It’s everything I could have imagined, as I taste what his lips give me. Moaning, because I can’t help it, I grip his shoulders. His tongue touches my lips, and I’ve wanted this for too long. He pushes into me, and I bite his bottom lip as he kisses me deeper. He pushes harder and brings his hand down. As he trails it down my body, I feel every fingertip. My head rolls as he moves from my lips to my neck, and he bites and sucks while his hand keeps moving lower. Under my dress it goes, and he moves the cotton to the side. Green eyes look at me, telling me this is what he has wanted, too. Touching inside where I burn for him, he curls his fingers, and I fly high. This doesn’t compare to the drugs. This is a whole other addiction, and I am hooked. He walks us to my overthrown mattress and lays me down. I see stars and fire when he presses deeper with his fingers.

“Baby,” he whispers. This boy surrounds me, and the feelings I have for him ignite when he makes my legs shake and tingles chase each other up and down my spine. “Give it to me, B,” he says, his voice pleading. My toes curl, and I cry out when I fall, coming so hard I clamp my eyes shut and see fireworks and shooting stars. My heart pounds in my chest, and I open my eyes to a green-eyed boy. He smirks, and I pull his head down because I need another River Dawson kiss. God, I’ve been missing out. He presses his full lips to mine, and then we hear Frankie’s truck. “We got to clean this mess up, B,” he says against my swollen lips.

“Okay,” I reply. He stands up, and I do, too, happy and only floating now.

***

“So that happened.” Ellie kind of smirks and runs her hand through her short hair.

“Yeah,” I reply quietly, lifting my lip, and it’s like I can still taste him. I miss him.

“Well, how did you two go from there?” she asks.

“From there, it was secrets. It was like I was on another drug, and I was having to be just as sneaky because we were scared Frankie would kill us both.”

“What about the pills?”

“He made it easier to stop for a little while, but I’m a drug addict. It will always be in the back of my mind.”

***

The telltale lights on my bedside clock let me know I’ve been up for half of the night. I toss and turn, burning from the inside out.

I want something.

Clean for a few days now, my blood flows unevenly, and my mind shifts thoughts.

I need something.

I toss the covers off me and throw my legs over the side of my bed. My toes curl around the iron bedframe beneath my feet, sending cold chills up my legs. Sweat drips down my back, and I need a shower. I stand up and walk to the bathroom. Turning the light on, I walk over and start the shower. I strip and get under the water. I turn the knobs until I feel the sting of hot water on my shoulders, and I welcome its comfort. I hear a soft knock on the door, and I remember I didn’t lock it.

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