Learning to Anticipate

A couple hours later I blink. My room's spinning and my stomach lurches. But there's a warm fizz of exhilaration making my hands shake. Aiden's ribs are hard under my ear, his heartbeat echoing mine in my head.

"Hey, you back?" he says, his voice husky with fatigue.

"Uh huh." I roll off his chest. My stomach threatens for a moment, then eases. "But I feel sick."

"It'll pass." He rolls onto his side and strokes my hair. "You're beautiful when you're floating," he says quietly. I turn my head to look at him and there's this . . . surge. My chest swells. His eyes look black in the darkness, but he's warm and here. A solid wall to lean on when I'm scared.

I swallow back emotion I don't want to analyze and lift my chin to kiss him. "You're handsome in the dark," I whisper back.

He snorts.

A few minutes later, as the black outside creeps into dark gray, I kiss him quickly before he leaves, then lean on the sill to watch him cross the lawn, admiring the flat planes of his shoulders. When he's disappeared around the corner to his car, I sigh and drop back onto the bed. There's a thick dread in my chest and I don't know why. I can't remember much.

There's a flash of Aiden, grinning, chuckling, shirtless and shushing me, accompanied by a delicious shiver. But other than that, I just feel . . . good. Warm. Excited. Boneless.

The weight in my chest must just be a side-effect of the binding.

I change into pajamas and get ready to sleep, but my bed is a wreck. I have to remake it. Clearly we'd spent most of our time on there. I text Aiden,

Did we go anywhere?

A couple minutes later, he texts back.

No. I spent most of the time trying

to stop you from tickling me.

You're ticklish?

A GIF appears of a guy tipping a finger back and forth. No no.

I laugh, and sigh. It's time to sleep. But I can't wipe the smile off my face.

Dawn is turning my window pink by the time I finally relax enough to sleep.

#

Aiden sneaking into my room quickly becomes a habit. Over the next week he shows up four times. And I'm happier every time.

He's bound me a couple more times too. But this tumbling around in my room is risky, especially when I'm bound. Aiden assures me he can block the room so my family won't hear anything. But it just feels . . . reckless.

So on Thursday before school I ask Dad if my grounding can be lifted. If I can go to the bonfire with Aiden again on Friday?

Dad promises to talk to Mom.

Friday morning they're both sitting at the table when I come down for breakfast. Uh oh.

Mom's lips thin. "Kate, I don't feel that it's a good idea to let you have so much freedom so quickly."

"But we'll let you," Dad finishes for her, giving her a look.

Mom's lips thin.

"Thank you!"

"Thank your father," Mom snarls. "You have to go to group first. And you must be home by midnight, or I'm grounding you until Christmas."

I nod. I'll agree to anything to get out of this house.

Ignoring her, Dad sighs, "And please be careful, Kate. There's a lot of unsavory types at these bonfires."

Unsavory types? I choke back a laugh. He means Aiden and his friends. If only they knew. "I'll be careful. I promise," I say solemnly. Then rush out to school before they can change their minds.

I just wish I couldn't hear Mom's voice rising in the house behind me, telling Dad what a terrible father he is . . .

*****

Typically, Friday, for no reason, turns into a Bad Day. A day when my history haunts me. When all the mistakes I've made, all the times I've hurt myself and other people, swirl in a loop in my head and refuse to leave me alone. And all that self-loathing brings my cravings into sharp relief.

I know Aiden looks for me because he's left two notes in my locker and texted me half a dozen times asking where I am. I put him off. I'm trembling and sick with self-loathing. I don't want him to see me like this. I need to get it together. But I'm torn because I know he can make the cravings ease.

I skip two of my classes to sit in my car and listen to music and do my breathing exercises. I call my old counsellor, but she's in session. Her assistant says she'll call me back. I know she won't, because we aren't paying her anymore.

I go to the rest of my classes and don't say a word.

By the time I drop Amy home after school and head to group, the cravings hum like an adrenalin rush that starts in my toes and pushes through all my muscles and skin to make me tingle, and ache, and want.

I close my eyes, count to ten. Remind myself I'll be bound tonight and it'll all get better then.

Suddenly, I have to see Aiden.

He's becoming my vice.

"Okay, guys, lets get started!" Trista calls over the conversations scattered around the room. I don't know whether to be relieved it's beginning, or feel trapped by this face.

It's worth it. Just a couple hours. Earn your freedom.

Then, because the cravings aren't enough to deal with, a shadow passes over me, a heavy weight settles into the chair next to me. And a paw of a hand lands on my back.

"Are you okay, Kate?" Chase's deep, concerned voice is way too close to my ear, his breath on my neck, and even though I know he didn't mean it that way, it feels seductive. The goosebumps marching up my neck only add to the sensation.

I drop my shoulder out from under his hand, flip my hair back and sit up. "I'm fine."

Chase sits back, watching me. I'm finished trying to be good enough for people I don't even care about. Chase can think whatever he wants about me. I'm leaving group and getting bound. I'll have a blast. And it won't hurt anything. I'll be home by midnight, sober as a monk. The cravings will ease, and I'll get my life back.

While Trista asks everyone to bare their souls, I pull my phone out of my back pocket, and without thinking about the implications, find the text I sent myself from Aiden's phone. I'm too flustered to be eloquent.

Can't wait for tonight

.

.

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