Addicted To You .L.S.

Thirty One.

Two and a Half Years Ago
(Fifteen Years Old)

My phone buzzes. It's 2 a.m. and I'm half asleep, but as soon as I see it's Harry, I answer.
"What?"
"Look our your window."
I get out of bed. Harry's parked across the street, leaning against the familiar blue truck.
"You stole Gem's truck? You only have your permit."
"I borrowed it. And no ones gonna catch us. Come on, let's go."

I pull my shoes in and sneak downstairs. I'm in my pj pants and tank top, but it's a warm night and I don't care. Harry beams when he sees me coming out the door. "Where's the cane?" He asks as I get the the passenger seat. "You have another three weeks—"
"I'm getting better without it," I interrupt. "It's fine. I need to get used to walking without it. Even the guys at the hospital said."
"Okay," Harry says, but he doesn't sound convinced.

We role down the windows and head to the lake, singing along to the radio m. Taking the back road, we head towards a spot only the locals know. We've spent hours laying, soaking up the sun.

The lake stretches out in front of us and Harry pulls over, parking by a turnout on the side of the road. When we get out of the car, I can hear the soft lapping of the water against the rocks below. The moons high in the sky, shining off the water. We've been coming to this spot since we were kids, but it never was easy to navigate the trail, even back then. Harry helps me down the tricky stretch to the little beach. We strip down to our underwear, there's nothing self conscious about him when he tosses his shirt onto the rocks. I follow suit, slower, more carefully. Harry walks into the lake, waiting until he's hip deep before dipping under. He comes up with a slash, his dark hair flying everywhere as he beams at me in the moonlight. The lake is cold—almost too cold—against my skin and goosebumps prickle on my arms as I walk in after him. My toes dig into the muddy bottom for better traction, but once I get deep enough, I can lift my feet and let the water hold me up. I feel weightless and almost painless.

Harry floats on his back, staring up at the sky. "I heard something today," he says.
"Hmm?" I float next to him, letting water support my body.
"Aaron said he saw Carly buying condoms at the drugstore last week."
I reach my arms above my head, pushing through the water, away from him. I'm not fast enough. He jerks forward, off his back, splashing everywhere as he treads water facing me. "You didn't!" When I don't say anything or look at him, he says, "oh my god, you did."
"So what if I did?" I ask and it comes out way more defensive than I intend it. Carly and I had been dating for months; it had seemed like the thing to do. I just didn't want to tell anyone afterwards.

He knows how good I am at pretending. It's all we do, it's all I do. I pretend that I don't hurt, that I want Carly, that I don't want him, that I'm not taking too many pills, that my virginity had been important. It hadn't been. It only means something when you're with the right person. And I couldn't have him.

"I can't b-believe..." Harry stutters. "Oh god."
"It's not a big deal," I mumble.
"Yes it is!" He says it so quickly and I can hear the cracks in his voice. Likes he's about to cry. "Harry." I start to swim over to him, but he turns from me and dives deep. He glides under the water and when he surfaces I can't tell if it's tears or lake water dripping down his face.
We never talk about it again.

A week later, Harry and I are at a party at Amber and Aaron's when Amber waylays me, walking across the crowded deck with s self-satisfied smile in her face.
"Why didn't you tell me!" She demands, twirling her sun-streaked hair around her finger. We're outside. The twins house is next to the river, and I've been zoning out, staring at the cool water.
"What?"
"You mean Harry didn't tell you?" Amber's eyes widen. "Maybe I shouldn't say anything..."
"Amber, out with it," I snap. I can be a jerk when I need to be. And no matter how much Amber would like it to be her, I'm Harry's best friend. Aaron doesn't care about stupid things, Amber does, they are very different; not all twins are the same I guess.

"Harry's totally sleeping with Jess Kemp."
"What?" I can feel blood drain from my face. I have to tighten my hold on my cup to keep from dropping it.
I look for Harry immediately, instinctively. When our eyes meet across the deck, I understand: he's planned it, he wanted it this way, he's just been waiting for me to find out—and I hate him for it. It's the most vicious thing he's ever done to me, but really, how can I blame him?

Two weeks after that, two weeks after Jess hanging off his neck, of them making out everywhere, of that glean in his eyes, the way he's pushing me, punishing me, I can't handle it anymore. I'm sobbing as I crush the pills.
I've been on the edge of this for months, gulping down too many, numbing myself to the pain. Numbing myself to him. This is the inevitable next step down, the evolution of my fall.

It's like a roller coaster, the dip and slide searing through me, going straight to my head. The buzz—fleeting, but oh so good—floods me and I'm reaching for more before it vanishes completely. Anything to erase him from me.

But some marks, they don't fade. No matter what.