Saved By Steven (the first story)

21. Seeing Steven Again

The ringing of the doorbell woke Lauren up. She had fallen asleep on the couch, wrapped in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday. Her mouth was dry, and a dull throb pressed against the inside of her skull. She shoved the leftover drugs from the coffee table into her pocket and opened the door, still half-asleep.

"Morning!" chirped a far-too-cheerful voice. It was Mick, holding a coffee in one hand and jingling his car keys in the other.

"Ready to go to work?"
Lauren blinked. "Work?"
He chuckled. "Today's your first day back. You've only got three classes, remember? Half-days, like we agreed."
She stared at him blankly. "We... agreed?"
"You did. A few weeks ago. You said you wanted to ease back into it. Two classes a day, three hours max."
Lauren blinked. She didn't remember any of that.
"Right. Sorry, I haven't had my coffee yet."
"Well, good thing I came prepared," Mick smiled, holding up the cup. "Go get dressed. We'll hit Starbucks on the way anyway."
By the time the car pulled up near the teachers' entrance, Lauren was sweating. Her stomach twisted into tight, sour knots. The closer they got to school, the more the walls seemed to close in around her.
She didn't want this.
She didn't want to be back in that building, back in her old life — pretending everything was okay, pretending she was okay.
Mick turned off the engine and came around to open her door. Lauren still hadn't moved.
"You ready?"
"Never," she muttered.He gave her a look, not quite pity — but close. "One step at a time."

Inside, the teacher's lounge buzzed with the low hum of voices. As soon as Lauren stepped in, a hush fell. She felt it — all eyes on her. The whispers, the glances, the curious stares from people too polite to ask what happened but too eager to gossip about it.

She clenched her jaw and turned to Mick. "I can't do this," she whispered, panic rising.
"I can't."
Without waiting for a response, she walked back out, pushing the door hard behind her. Outside, she lit a cigarette with shaking hands and dragged in the smoke like oxygen.
Why are you back here?
Because you promised.
You hate this.
It's just nerves.
You need a fix.
One line, and you'll be fine.

She flicked ash off the cigarette, hating herself a little for how comforting that voice sounded.
When the bell rang and students began to shuffle toward their classrooms, Lauren ducked into the staff bathroom. She locked the stall door, unwrapped a folded tissue from her jacket pocket, and lined up a bump on the back of her hand.

Don't.
Just one.
Please don't.

She snorted the line. The burn cleared her sinuses and blurred the buzzing in her mind. Just like that, she was lighter, steadier — back in control. Or so she told herself.
When she joined Mick in the hallway, he gave her a quick glance. His smile was cautious.
"First class is an easy one," he said. "Freshmen. They'll just do what you tell them."
"Great," she muttered, brushing her hair behind her ears.

The classroom was filled with half-asleep students who mostly stared at their notebooks or phones. Lauren gave them a writing exercise and kept to herself. Even so, her first class went by in a blur.
Mick checked on her before her second class. "You good?"

"I'll make it."
"You sure?"
"Just go, Mick. I'll see you after."
This class wasn't so easy. A couple of students asked questions — soft, cautious ones at first. Then more direct.
"Where have you been, Ms.?"
"We heard you were in hospital."
"Are you better now?"
She didn't want to answer. She didn't owe them anything. But she could feel the rumor mill warming up. If she didn't say something, someone else would.
"I was sick," she said flatly. "I'm doing better now. Let's move on."
That seemed to satisfy them — for now.

Afterward, Lauren collapsed into her desk chair and opened a window for a cigarette. Her hands still shook. Her head was pounding. She didn't know how she was going to make it through another day like this.

She blew out smoke. When she finally turned around, her breath caught in her throat.Steven stood in the doorway, holding an envelope."Room smells like high school rebellion," said a voice behind her.She turned, cigarette halfway to her lips — and froze."Steven?" she blinked. "What... what are you doing here?"He smiled, stepping further inside. "I came to drop off a couple tickets. Thought you might want to come to the next show.""I thought you were out on tour.""Yeah, we got back early. I had a few days, and..." He paused. "I wanted to see you."

He looked out of place here—clean, energized, with that casual rockstar edge that made him seem like he existed in a better world. His hair was perfectly messy. His shirt looked expensive, even though he wore it like he didn't care. And Lauren? She was in wrinkled slacks, worn-out eyeliner, and a scarf that smelled faintly of stale smoke.

Lauren blinked back the heat rising in her throat. "God. It's good to see a friendly face."
She crossed the room in three quick steps and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, warm and solid.

As they pulled apart, she slid her hand into her coat pocket, pressing her palm flat over the plastic bag hidden there.
He didn't know. He couldn't know.
"How have you really been?" Steven asked.
Lauren forced a smile. "Getting there."
She hated how easy lying had become.

Before they could say more, the bell rang. A group of students burst in, followed by their teacher. Steven and Lauren barely registered them until the teacher cleared his throat loudly.Steven chuckled and stepped back. "I'll get out of your way."He handed her the envelope.
"Tickets, backstage passes, the works. Show's this Friday."

"I'll try to make it."
"Bring Mick."
"I will."
And then he was gone. The door shut softly behind him, but Lauren didn't move. She stood frozen in place, the envelope in one hand, the drugs in the other.