✨ introducing your newest favourite comfort read ✨
Underneath the pulsing lights of a frat party, a wager is made that will change everything.
Enter Lucas Scott, the university's hotshot hockey player, whose arrogance is as legendary as his skills...
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Aria
Haze Babe: Aria?!
Haze Babe: Where are you??????
Haze Babe: I swear to god..
Haze Babe: Aria!!!
Haze Babe: Where are you
Haze Babe: Answer your phone
Haze Babe: You better be dead somewhere
Haze Babe: This isn't funny
Haze Babe: Where are you
You would be dead wrong if you assumed based on the messages' content that they were sent by my mother or even my father. These are only Hazel's texts; I haven't heard from my parents, who have undoubtedly already received the hospital bill for my ambulance ride. My fingers linger on the phone's keyboard because I'm not sure what to say to her. She'll be so upset, and right now I'm unable to bear the thought of her being disappointed in me as well.
I fidget with my phone unable to bring myself to look at anything else on it. Luke finally agreed to give me my phone back - I guess Steven has been bombarding me since the day after. Despite the huge explosion that took place between us at Luke's house yesterday, he kept his promise, and now I'm sitting in my NA meeting and seeing a mix of familiar and new faces. Fortunately, it appears that they changed the staff, so none of the people who saw me develop are there to witness that I have returned to the beginning.
I'm sitting in a circle in one of those hard plastic chairs, almost like you did in primary school when you weren't required to sit on the floor. Despite being a crucial component of my continued sobriety, attending NA meetings three times per week will be the end of me. I have attended one of these sessions before, but this time I feel like I must pay attention. Luke has been kind the entire time, but I've tried to distance myself completely from him because I feel like a monster because of my addiction, and he doesn't deserve it. Every time I act cruelly, he gives me a little breathing room while remaining nearby.
I think he is crazy; if the roles had been reversed, I would have left so quickly. Who am I to judge a gift horse in the mouth? Perhaps he is a better person than I am, or perhaps he has a hero complex. Right now, everything is a jumble, so far, he is the one constant in my life.
The first person to speak up is one of the facilitators delivering the programme tonight, and I believe his name is Jason. He has darker blonde hair, blue eyes, and is roughly 6 feet tall. He has a slimmer physique and appears to be athletic. Thank God he isn't like previous facilitators who clapped at us; there is nothing more humiliating for a recovering person than being clapped at like a child. He clears his throat to get everyone's attention. "Would someone like to speak first tonight, or would you like to start with prayer?" I like speaking first, it gives me the chance to get it out of the way and tune out for the rest of the session. I normally just nod my head and mirror others expressions to make it appear like I'm paying attention to what's going on.
