Ecstasy

Zara

Jax and I are the first people there, and I’m glad.

He offers me a drink as soon as we step inside his kitchen, but just before he goes to pour the mixer in, Diet Coke, I shake my head.

“Nah. It’s been a rough few weeks. Give me straight rum.”

Jax eyes me with a little half-smile, scrubs his hand over the back of his neck and shrugs. “All right,” he says lazily, capping the Diet Coke and tossing it back in the fridge.

While he’s busy with that, I just help myself, pouring the rum until it fills up half the cup.

“Yo, chill,” Jax says with a little laugh. “You don’t wa

I’m always fucking sloppy. Instead of saying that, I just tip back the cup and drink as much as I can stand before I feel like I might vomit. I slam the cup down, sloshing the contents inside as I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.

Jax sips his own drink. A beer. He’s much more responsible than I am. “So, you’re really through with that quarterback cock suck?” he asks me calmly, leaning against the kitchen counter.

My stomach burns with the rum and it churns, too, with Jax’s question. He doesn’t know the truth, of course, because I suck at telling the truth. I shrug. “Yeah,” I say, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “We’re through.”

Jax lifts up his beer in a ‘cheers’ motion, and I touch my cup to his and drink again. “Good.” He swallows his beer. “Didn’t like that guy.”

I laugh a little, setting my cup back down. I’m already feeling a little tipsy, and I use the counter to hold me up. “You didn’t even know him,” I point out.

Jax shrugs, quirks his mouth to the side. “Yeah, well, fuck ‘em anyway.”

I burst into laughter and take another drink to hide my smile. Fuck it. I might as well finish the entire thing. I don’t really like being awake much nowadays anyway. If I black out, Jax will put me in the spare bedroom and I’ll just drift off into sleep. I finish it off, wincing a little as it burns down my throat, and then start spi

“Jax,” I start, swallowing and looking down at my black shoes, “you ever wa

At that moment, the door opens, and I glance over my shoulder as I feel the cool October air rush in.

A couple of guys lift their hands in greeting and I nod.

“Start up the music,” Jax tells the guys. “Make yourself at home. There’s pot on the table.”

The guys give a thumbs up and shuffle off to the living room, closing the door before they do. One catches my eye. He’s got dark blonde hair, dressed all in black. He looks a little older than me, and I’m positive he doesn’t go to Caven. His eyes linger on me a moment before he finally follows his friend into the living room, disappearing from view.

Music starts up in there, but as I turn back to Jax, it kind of fades away. He’s quiet a moment as he stares at me, and the strange silence is almost deafening, even though it isn’t real. Even though the guys are talking in the living room and the music actually gets louder, it still feels silent.

I’ve noticed lately that most things are like that for me. Almost like I’m dissociating from myself.

I wonder if it’s all the drugs. I wonder if I’m making myself schizophrenic or something. I wonder if I’ve just always been like this. I can’t really remember.

“Nah,” Jax finally says, sighing as he does. “I remember what being sober was like. I didn’t feel good in my own skin.”

I look up and return his small smile with one of my own. But the truth is, I still don’t feel good in my own skin.

Right now, though, I feel a little wobbly.

Unsteady on my feet.

I grip the counter and Jax flicks his brows up. “You need something to eat?” he asks, still working on that first beer. Meanwhile, I’ve downed about half a dozen shots in about as many minutes.

I shake my head, smiling at him. “No. Who was that guy?” I ask instead, pointing my thumb over my shoulder, toward the living room. “With the blonde-ish hair?” My words are already slurred, and I laugh a little as Jax smiles slightly. “Who was he?”

Jax sighs, sets his beer down. He takes my hand in his. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

The guy’s name is Ben, and Ben owns a farm. An honest-to-God farm. He tells me so and I slap his knee, laughing on the couch beside him.

A few more people are here, some of them on the floor around the coffee table, playing cards and doing drugs. I see someone snort a line and my eyes instinctively find Jax, although my hand is still on Ben’s thigh.

“Can I get a bump?” I ask Jax, who is on my other side. I nod toward the table where the line has disappeared, but I know Jax has more.

Jax just shakes his head. “I think you’re good for now, Za.”

When he calls me that, I think of Alex and my throat feels tight.

I turn back to Ben, who is staring at me with big blue eyes. He’s thirty, he told me. He’s thirty, which is ten years older than me and I’ve never hooked up with someone that much older.

I tell him so.

He puts his hand over mine on his thigh. “Slow down, babe,” he says with a small smile. “I don’t think you’re quite sober enough for all that.”

The noise is loud around us and I know no one heard him reject me, but I don’t like it. It makes my cheeks flush, and the water in the cup Jax gave me sloshes as I lean an arm through two people sitting at the table in front of me and set my cup down.

I turn back to face Ben, wrap my arm around his broad shoulders. He has a lot of stubble on his jaw, and there are faint lines under his blue eyes.

I’m just glad they’re not brown. If he looked like Alex, I couldn’t do this.

“I don’t need to be sober to fuck around,” I tell Ben, leaning in close to him, my words against his ear.

Jax clears his throat on my other side. “Hey, Za, I wa

Ben looks past me, exchanging a look with Jax. I think they’re talking about me, but I don’t know what they’re saying without words.

I don’t like it.

But when Jax grabs my hand, I turn to him and let him pull me to my feet.

Maybe Jax will fuck me.

Carefully, he guides me through the crowded living room, and then we disappear down a hall. I’m unsteady on my feet, leaning against Jax, linking my arm through his.

“You wa

Jax laughs, shaking his head a little as we come to a stop in front of his spare bedroom. “Did you now?” he asks, pushing open the door.

I nod, turn to kiss his cheek.

He lets me, and then he closes the door after we get inside the room.

I flop down on the bed, on my back, staring at the ceiling as it seems to spin overhead. Jax turns the lamp beside the bed on, and sits down beside me.

“Touch me,” I whisper, eyes still on the ceiling. “Touch me, Jax.”

Jax clears his throat. I glance at him, see his hands clasped together, wrists on his knees. “You’re really drunk, Za. We’re just going to relax, okay?”

My heart pounds out an uneven rhythm in my chest. “No. Touch me. Please.” My voice is hoarse, and my words are slurred, but he knows what I said.

He knows.

I grab his hand when he doesn’t do what I told him to, put it on my belly, where my shirt has ridden up.

His fingers are so warm.

They remind me of Alex.

I try to trail his hand lower, but he stops me. Just keeps his hand on my low belly.