Page 110 of A Love That Broke Us
I needed a full pill. I had to duck out of work early today—couldn’t focus, couldn’t sit still. I was anxious as fuck and sweating through my shirt.
I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead, clearing another bead of sweat as I pull a pill from the tin. I set it on the toilet paper holder, then press my phone over it until it starts to soften. This is anything but sanitary, but I don’t give a shit.
I need this.
Right fucking now.
I don’t have twenty minutes for this to kick in. Snorting it hits faster.
I keep crushing the chunks until the pill’s nothing but powder. Pulling my credit card from my wallet, I sweep it into a tight line, each side neat and controlled.
I press my finger against one nostril and lower down. Just as I’m about to sniff, the restroom door creaks open.
I freeze, listening. Waiting. Nothing.
Lifting my foot to the flusher, I press down. Water swirls, loud enough to mask the sound as I bend over and inhale the powder into my nose.
I drag my finger across both nostrils, sniffing again, sucking up and wiping away any excess. My fingers swipe at the toilet paper display, dusting away the remaining traces.
I sniff hard a few more times, then exhale, slow and steady. Leaning against the door, a wave of calm spreads over me, every part of me submerged in relief. The anxiety, the restlessness—gone. Washed away like sin at a baptism. A clean slate. It’s fake as hell, but it feels real enough.
I take another breath, savoring the illusion of normal. Wiping off my phone, I tuck my credit card back in my wallet, grab the Altoids tin, and shove everything into my pocket.
I unlock the stall and step out. Fucking Matt’s standing there. Arms folded. Eyes narrowed. Suspicious as hell.
And not at a urinal.
I try to play it cool. “Hey, bud. You gotta pee?”
His stare doesn’t flinch. “What were you doing with Seth?”
Right. So he’s going there. “Jesus, Matt. I had to take a shit. Not everything’s a goddamn conspiracy.”
“Bullshit.” His voice is low, steady. “I saw Seth come in. Did he give you something?”
My blood boils. Heat rushes to my face, and my brows furrow. I’m pissed. “I don’t know what the hell you think you know. But it’s weirdas fuck that you followed me in here. If you don’t have to piss, then leave. And stop asking me stupid questions.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Just talk to me, man. I’m not judging you. I’m trying to help.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need help. I’ve got everything under control.”
“You’ve got it under control? Dude, you were a fucking mess at the bar just now.”
I don’t say anything. I move to pass him, needing to get the hell out of here.
He grabs my arm. My first instinct? Swing. But then I see his face, and it’s not pissed. It’s scared. Worried.
“Jensen, come on. It’s me. You can tell me anything.”
Silence.
“Does Alley know?” he asks, his voice soft, full of concern.
Just hearing her name, here like this, it stings in the worst way. My eyes well up with fucking tears, and I blink rapidly. “Please don’t tell her.” My voice cracks, and I look past him, unable to meet his gaze.
He doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches. The tension between us is thick. Ugly. Foreign for us.
I might as well just admit it. But I can’t. I still can’t say it—I’m an addict.Not yet. I’m still working. Still social. Still functioning. I’ve still got it under control.
