Ecstasy

Zara

Waking up is hard.

I can feel the exhaustion in my bones and prying my eyelids open takes way more time than the half a second it should. I taste something strange in the back of my throat, like…

Whatever the hell Jax gave me last night that I snorted up my fucking nose.

I sit up in a bed that isn’t mine, scoot back against the padded headboard behind me. I blink a few times, the light streaming in from the half-open curtains too bright for my sensitive eyes. I take in the familiar room that my brain is having trouble placing right now; hardwood floors, a desk against one wall, doors on either side of it.

A framed photo of some pro football player catching a ball in the endzone.

Alex.

This is Alex’s room.

Get it fucking together, Zara.

I pull up the sheets to my chin and fist my hands in the shirt I’m wearing.

The shirt I’m wearing.

I yank the covers down, hold out the white t-shirt of Alex’s I’m in. It feels rough in a spot at the hem, rough because…

Eli.

My chest tightens, panic making that taste in my mouth turn sour as I draw my knees into my chest, yank the covers back up.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Eli.

I think about his fingers inside of me. His lips against my ear. How he told me to touch myself.

I clench my thighs together and close my eyes a second, lost in the memory. Fuck. Alex could have seen. Alex could have seen and then we would be so fucked. What the fuck am I doing?

I run a hand over my hair and take a breath to pull myself together. Then I open my eyes, feel around under the covers of the king-size bed for my phone. I lift the sheets up, peer over the edge of the bed onto the dark wooden floors, then the nightstand, on my right, and the one on the opposite side of the bed.

Nothing.

An alarm clock, the end of a charger and nothing.

Aside from the football picture, I’ve always thought Alex’s room felt impersonal somehow.

Except, no—

Is that a fucking Bible?

On the opposite nightstand, beside the alarm clock and the charger, a black, leather-bound Bible.

That’s new.

I mean, I know Alex’s dad is a pastor, but Alex has never mentioned God to me.

Jesus Christ.

I push thoughts of Alex and Christ from my mind and press the heel of my hand against my eyes, thinking about last night. There are gaps in my memory, which is no surprise. I was with Jax, and I snorted the line of the K-coke miracle drug, and everything was great. I was dancing on the table and Jax kept giving me water and I was sweaty, and my heart was racing, and I felt so…alive. The very opposite of what I’m feeling right now.

Right now, I feel heavy.

I need something to help me out with that, and since I have no clothes on, don’t see them anywhere in Alex’s room, and have no clue where my phone is, it’s going to take me a minute to figure out how to get back home and get to my stash.

Alex.

I keep my eyes closed, fingers threaded through my hair, trying to piece it all together. He was at Jax’s. Did I call him? I must have, because he wouldn’t have come otherwise.

He said he needed space. Time to think.

Clearly not that much time.

And Eli.

I remember Eli.

But I don’t remember getting to him. I don’t remember getting out of this bed. I try to think through everything. Through Alex carrying me inside. Stripping me down. Putting the shirt over my head, muttering about how we needed to talk in the morning.

Then I got up, because I was thirsty, and besides that, every time I closed my eyes, stars exploded behind them. I couldn’t lay down, couldn’t stay still. I went downstairs, and Eli was there.

Eli was there and he touched me and God, I wanted him.

I wanted him.

I groan, pressing my fist to my mouth.

Fuck.

Alex will kill me. If he knew, he’d fucking kill me.

And then, what happened after that?

It’s like grabbing at straws, it’s right there. I can feel it, see it. But I don’t know how I got from the kitchen to here. Another gap.

And then another thought intrudes on me trying to piece this together.

I pick my head up, nearly crick my neck turning to look at the alarm clock. It’s one of those with the day and date in a little box in the corner. Shit. Riha

I am definitely not going but I don’t want to be here and see if Alex and Eli are. Fuck that shit.

Before I can decide to fuck it all and steal some clothes from Alex, the door flies open and then slams shut, making me flinch and yank the covers up higher.

Alex’s entire body stiffens when he sees me, his eyes narrowing into slits, his jaw clenching, hands fisting by his sides. It’s unfortunate he’s so pissed off because without a shirt on, wearing low slung, black basketball shorts, he looks damn good.

“Get dressed,” he barks, turning away from me and yanking open the door opposite the bed. His closet door.

He ducks under the doorway, storming inside.

Literally ducking.

He needs a bigger house with bigger doorframes and vaulted ceilings in every damn room.

I watch his back muscles shift as he rips a black t-shirt off a hanger and throws it at me without looking back. He yanks a pair of sweatpants off from the space above the racks and throws that at me too. I catch them before they smack me in the face.

He turns back toward me, shuts the closet door at his back. I see his nostrils flare.

I grab everything he threw at me and hold it close to my chest. Clear my throat.

“Um. Do you want to tell me why you look like you’re about to drown me right now?” I almost wince as I ask the question, thinking belatedly about Riha

And then, Eli.

God, Alex doesn’t know. He can’t know. He has to be pissed about something else because if he knows, that means it’s really over and I need him. I need something stable in my life. I need a distraction.

He can’t know.

But he really does look like he could strangle me right about now, no pool required.

“Are you fucking joking?”

I clench and unclench my fists, resisting the urge to bite my nails. He can’t know. If he did, there’s no way he would be this calm. There’s just no fucking way.

But the comedown from whatever it is Jax gave me last night is already making me feel like shit, and compounded with whatever Alex is flipping out about right now, I feel sick with nerves.

I’m not about to ask any questions that could hang me before I know what his deal is though. I pull off the dirty shirt, pull on the clean one, trying to hide my body as much as I can because he’s still staring at me like he wants me dead. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, thankful Alex is a big ass freak of nature and his giant t-shirt hits at my thighs.

I put on his sweats, use the drawstring to cinch them as well as I can. Then I steel my spine, facing him with my hands on my hips. It can’t be about Eli, and if it isn’t about Eli then I don’t have anything to feel guilty about.

God, where the fuck is Eli?

I hope he isn’t here. I hope he doesn’t make this any more awkward than it’s going to be.

Gathering up all of my courage, which is in short supply at the moment considering I fucked around with my ex’s best friend and he has no idea, I keep my tone even as I demand, “Either tell me what happened or please give me a ride home.”