Hooked (11 page)

"Coke."

I lift my gaze to hers and stand for a moment on edge, expecting some sort of response, shock or pity, but her eyes are just looking at mine with understanding, and damn that's better than any reply I was expecting.

"What about you?" I ask quietly.

She reaches over to her nightstand for a book. "Alcohol," she replies just as quickly as I did. As if that's the standard way to answer...just get it out on the table quickly, just say it and be done with it. It's almost comforting.

I nod slowly, bending down again as I grab the handle of one of the suitcases under my bed and tug it out slowly. It takes about three good pulls to get it out, just because I'm still so weak, but I want to get settled and feel like I belong here as soon as I can. I think it'll make my stay easier...at least I hope it will.

I survey the room and see that two short dressers are pushed together side by side against the wall, one covered with small figurines and picture frames that I assume are Cara's, the other is barren on top.

"Can I use these?" I gesture to the dresser drawers and she looks up from her book.

"Oh yeah, that side is all yours," she waves my words away easily with her hand and dives back into her reading.

I start to arrange my clothes into the drawers slowly, hands and arms still trembling and weak, and I can feel her watching me, but I try not to let it bother me. I'm a stranger here; she's just sizing me up. It's human nature.

Once all of my things are unpacked from both small suitcases I slide them back under the bed and peer over my shoulder at my dresser again, giving it a once-over, wishing I had at least one picture or something to put on top to make it not look so lonely...to make it not painfully resemble how I'm feeling.

Empty...bare...abandoned.

I turn back to my bed with a sigh and draw the zipper open on my small bag that I brought from the detox center, some toiletries and a few articles of clothing in it. I sigh when I see the navy blue of his sweatshirt peeking out from underneath some t-shirts and a pair of my jeans. His sweatshirt. I had taken it from his house that morning he finally gave in and brought me here, telling him I was cold in the October chill, but really just silently wanting a piece of him to cling to on days like this.

I take the fabric between my fingers, using my free hand to press the other items down into the bag as I gently tug it free from beneath them. I press the soft material to my face and inhale deeply, blinking back hot tears as his smell invades my senses.

Holy fucking God I miss him.

I pull it carefully over my head, letting it envelop me, letting him envelop me. Hugging my arms around my body for a moment, I tuck my chin to my chest and close my eyes, trying to picture his face, his body...his eyes...his hands, that lazy smile, his laugh...his arms around me...shit.

I feel a tear slip down my cheek and I wipe at my face hastily, embarrassed, thankful that my back is to Cara because I don't need her thinking her new roommate is a sad sack of homesick or something. I quickly busy myself with unpacking again, pushing the thought of Lex from my mind, but still allowing the softness of his sweatshirt and the occasional wave of his smell comfort me...

I'm here, it whispers. But I know he's not.

He's not here.

I have to be strong enough to do this without him.

Lex hasn't exactly been forth-coming with everything going on lately.

He hasn't mentioned the withdrawal or rehab to any of the boys, and he has especially left out the fact that it was the very reason why he had been sneaking off during business days and putting runners on for full shifts when normally he tries to handle the majority of his deals himself.

No, he hasn't mentioned any of this, or the fact that he's been picking up two cases of beer a week on average for his consumption and smoking himself to sleep every night. Sometimes the best way to not think about something is to think of other things...or think of nothing at all.

But that day, God, that day had changed everything for him. Pulling up in front of the clinic, and then just...driving away. Having to deal with the guilt of just...leaving. Feeling like he had abandoned the one person who would never do that to him. Everything is different now in his mind.

He's on his sixth beer, his daily average as of late, when he hears a knock at the door. He swings his long legs off of the couch with a grunt and paces heavily to the entryway, turning the deadbolt and reaching for the handle.

"Sup Lex?"

It's Seth. And by his posture and the weak tremble in his voice alone Lex can tell that he's not there by choice. He figures the boys finally smartened up and came to the conclusion that something is definitely wrong with him and he needs a good talking-to, drew straws and Seth was the winner. Or loser, perhaps.

Lex responds with a grunt and an indistinguishable mutter and retreats back to the couch. He reaches for his beer on the coffee table in front of him as he takes a seat again, the other five empty bottles standing in a line like soldiers, saluting their drunken general. He eyes them menacingly before taking a long sip from his current bottle, eyes fixed on the TV.

"So, uh...what's up, man?" Seth speaks slowly, carefully as he crosses the room, eyeing him and the fleet of empty bottles decorating his table. Lex drinks, but not like this.

He leans forward, supporting his elbows on his knees and pauses before answering, licking his lips and narrowing his eyes, but not turning them from the screen, seemingly engrossed in the most current episode of The Walking Dead. He feels just like one of those zombies right now...soulless.

"What do you mean?" Lex finally responds.

Seth sighs. "Well...you've kinda been M.I.A. lately, bro. Me and the guys just wanna make sure your shit's all in line, you know...make sure your head's on straight."

"I'm fine," he insists flatly, rolling his eyes and Seth gives him a pointed look which he quickly returns.

Seth sinks down into the recliner, cowering a bit under his intense gaze, and he sighs in relief when Lex turns back to the TV. He musters his courage again. "Dude...you're laying up in your house getting drunk in the middle of the fcking week. And you've been cutting out on us all day during business shit, being a lazy fuck-"

"Do you wanna get your fucking mouth smacked, Seth?" he growls, snapping his gaze back over to him.

"I'm just saying...if you don't have your shit together, you need to get it together," Seth lectures half-heartedly, not out of lack of concern, but mostly because no one tells Lex how shit is.

He rolls his eyes and takes another drink as Seth continues.

"This is business we're running here, man. You better not be dickin' around on us. Your head isn't the only one on the chopping block."

"Ok! I get it! Fuck!" Lex snaps, furrowing his brow and waving his hand to dismiss Seth's words as he leans back against the couch in a slouched position.

He hesitates for a moment. "Lex...you know if something is going on you need to say something. We're bros, you know. If some fucked up shit is going down-"

"I don't wanna fucking talk about it, ok Dr. Phil? Shit." Lex downs the rest of his beer.

"So something is going on?..." Seth pries cautiously, and Lex groans loud as he sits up and slams the bottle down onto the glass-top table. Seth winces, expecting the thin sheet of glass to shatter from the force of the blow but it doesn't.

Lex's words cut harshly into the room, "Would you cut that shit out? Stop your psychobabble bullshit before I whip your fucking ass, and I mean that shit."

Awkward silence fills the space between them and Seth shifts uncomfortably as he attempts to change the subject. "So what's Leala up to?"

Lex sighs, scowling as he shakes his head and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in an effort to mask his discomfort. "I told you I don't wanna fucking talk about it."

"Oh, you got drama with your girl? That bitch giving you trouble?" he quips with a grin which soon disappears as it becomes obvious that Lex isn't amused.

"Shut your fucking mouth. You don't know shit," he mutters, shifting uncomfortably and being careful not to let his eyes meet Seth's, afraid that he'll be able to read his anxiety like a book.

"You guys get in a fight again or some shit?" Seth chuckles, not noticing his tense posture at the initial mention of the subject.

Lex snaps. "Do you not know the meaning of the fucking words 'shut' and 'up'? Goddamn!"

Seth freezes, eyes wide and confusion painting his face. He studies Lex's anxious behavior, watching him as he exhales noisily and hangs his head, holding it in his hands between his knees, worry eating him up inside and crawling all over him.

"Dude...what's got you so fucked up, man?" he asks quietly, putting his guard up for another one of Lex's explosive replies, but he waits...and nothing happens.

Lex finally sits back up a little and props his elbows on his knees, biting at his lips as he stares blankly at the TV and Seth is ripped from his thoughts as he speaks lowly, not turning his focus from straight forward, lost in some sort of haze.

"Leala's in rehab."

Seth sucks in a breath, his eyes widening. "What!? Are you fucking-"

"Yeah, I'm serious. She tried to get clean at her place and...it just got bad," Lex cuts him off, his voice low and solemn as he drops his focus to the floor again.

"One less customer..." Seth mutters in a non-committal tone, shrugging a bit as he sinks back against the chair with a sigh.

"How can you say some shit like that?!" Lex growls, and Seth's eyes widen as he begins to see the first signs of emotion in his face since he walked in the door.

"Woah. Shit, Lex...I didn't know it was like that. I mean, it's not a big deal, right? Damn, I know she's your girl...but I mean it's nothing serious...right? You just fuck her," he offers, trying to make less of Lex's reaction, but his voice becomes weary when there is no change in Lex's posture or expression. "Right?"

But he still doesn't reply.

"Lex...that's all it is man, right?"

He shifts his eyes back to the TV but doesn't really look at it, just gives a blank stare before responding flatly, "She's my girl, Seth. You know that."

"Yeah but shit, you're laying up in this house like someone died," he argues in confusion and Lex hangs his head again. A wave of uncertainty rises in Seth as he continues worriedly, drawing what he hopes will be a false conclusion. "You're not...you're not thinking about getting clean, are you? Not because of her? C'mon, don't tell me you're thinking about getting clean, man."

"Of course I'm fucking not. It's just...damn Seth, you weren't there. Shit got bad...it got really fucking bad...I had to take her there...and just...leave her..." He shakes his head in frustration, running a hand over his head as he sits back with a sigh.

"Dude, why are you stressing about this shit? Damn man, you sound like...like you're fucking in love with this girl or something," Seth laughs nervously.

Lex's eyes go wide. "What!? No!" He twists his face up in shock, but immediately looks away from Seth's prying gaze, his voice trailing as he continues, "No!...Hell no."

He brings his eyes to Seth's again with faked confidence, shrugging and shaking his head nonchalantly, trying to let that four-letter word roll off his back...

Love.

"Seriously...she's just Leala, you know. She's just a fucking girl."

"A girl who sat on your fucking face," Seth chuckles, trying to lighten the mood and prevent another outburst, which unfortunately doesn't work out accordingly as Lex snaps again.

"I told you not to mention that shit ever again!"

"Well, you better not be in love with her..." Seth replies cautiously, "Cause the last thing any of us needs it you running around with your head all fucked up over a girl and some shit like rehab. That kinda shit fucks with business, Lex. And business comes first."

"I fucking know, ok! Don't preach some bros over hoes shit to me," he huffs an irritated sigh.

"Well that's exactly what I'm talking about," Seth answers matter-of-factly.

Lex waits a beat before responding weakly, "I know..."

_______________________________________________________________

Mexico, Five Years Ago.

The sun was burning so hot on my face I was just about to be forced into turning over when I felt a sweat bead trickle down from my brow and disappear into my hair line. I had laid out on the beach in Cali every single day of the summer thus far, but something about the Mexico sun...damn, it's hot.

I readjusted my sunglasses with a groan, wiping at the bridge of my nose where sweat had collected between my skin and the smooth plastic of my shades and just as I began to turn over onto my stomach, I felt a shadow over me. I sighed automatically just from the relief of the warm rays being blocked, and I peered over my sunglasses to see Sam standing over me with a huge grin plastered on her tanned face.

"What?" I giggled, puzzled as to what could have her so excited.

"Randy just got here...with a boy." Her brows wiggled with the last word.

"Your brother is gay?" I gasped in fake shock with a grin and she just rolled her hazel eyes.

"No, you freak! He brought a friiiiiend." The way she shimmied at me when she said the word, grinding it out for emphasis, I knew what she was inferring.

"Dammit Sam," I sighed, "the last thing I need is Randy trying to set-"

"He's hot," she cut me off matter-of-factly...very matter-of-factly.

I sucked in a breath, my insides fluttering a bit involuntarily but I was trying not to let it show. I covered it up with a bored sigh, rolling onto my stomach. "Then why don't you go after him..."

"Brother's friends are strictly off the market...but not for youuuuu." There she was with that shimmy and emphasizing words again. Ugh.

"Sam..." I groaned.

"Listen, you've been moping. We just got here two days ago, and I know you're all beat up over Tyler and trying to hide it, but you're not doing a very good job. And yes I'm calling your ass out on it, but dammit Leala it's cause I love you. I don't want you to be miserable on this whole trip! Have some fun. "

I groaned again and rolled onto my side, pushing my shades up onto my head to look her in the eyes. "Ok first, I'm not beat up over Tyler. Second, I am having fun...this...this is fun," I gestured to myself in my current state.

"You can lay out in Cali when we get home. C'mon, get up...the guys are heading over to the bar," she encouraged impatiently.

"It's two in the afternoon," I said with a sigh as I flopped back onto my stomach, glancing at the time on my cell phone.

"So! They just got here, come keep them company with me."

I didn't respond. I just closed my eyes and willed her to go away. But of course she didn't.

"Pleeeease, Leala." Shit her whining was always so pathetic.

I huffed out a defeated sigh. Meeting a new boy...what could it hurt?

"Fine...fine."

_______________________________________________________________

I can't say that I hadn't been watching him. God, I'd been watching him all night. Tucked away in the far corner of the bar, leaning up against the wall, just watching him as he sat at a table with the other guys, downing beer after beer, laughing.

And I watched him...the way he tipped his back when he laughed, the way his full lips pursed at the opening of his bottle, the way his throat slid up and down when he swallowed...

Jesus.

He'd been looking too. It's not like I was a stalker or something, I'd caught him looking at me more than a few times. We knew we were here with the same group, we'd just conveniently been dancing around each other all night, never getting up the guts to face one another, because there was that damn weird attraction...that energy that buzzed between us when our eyes met, and my stomach flipped and I felt warmth rise in my cheeks and down between my legs. God.

I turned my attention to the dance floor, watching groups and couples grind and rub on each other, drinks tipping and spilling down people's fronts and backs and onto the floor with the swaying of bodies and drunken arms in the air. And I wanted to be out there. Maybe if I got out there he would come up behind me, press his front to my back and-

"Hey."

Shit! He came out of nowhere. I jumped and gasped at the sound of his voice and he grinned that crooked grin from the barstool next to me, beer in hand. I wanted to seem cool...older, more mature, like he didn't phase me. I wanted him to chase me. Shit, I wasn't in high school anymore, and I didn't wanna play games like I still was either. I thought I was such a hardass.

"Hey." But there I was, giggling and blushing like the 18-year-old that I really was.

Dammit.

I glanced over at the table he'd abandoned to see the other guys still laughing and clinking bottles, stealing a few glances now and then and I figured they'd all seen him come over to me. I wondered what he'd said to them before he got up. Had he been talking about me?

"You left your little buddies high and dry over there."

He chuckled as he glanced over to them, and one of them raised his bottle with a smirk and he turned to smirk at me. "Nah, they'll live."

"I feel kinda bad for 'em. Bros over hoes, right?" I asked coyly with a knowing smile. After that little exchange between him and the guys I knew he'd come over here just for me, and it wasn't a secret.