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Grace spent the next two days thinking significantly more about Jim than about drugs. For some reason, she was stuck on Mick assuming she was messing with him. Sure, she'd had a bad history with guys -shocking, she knew-, and sure she'd been known to kind of use them for her benefit -whether it be sex or drugs or both- and then stop calling them back, but Jim was different. Jim was sweet and kind and had that underlying dark side about him that he didn't show to most people. Jim was interesting and different than anyone else she'd ever known.
She'd always had a soft spot for him; it was hard not to. He was just so goddamn endearing and genuinely kind of outright adorable. But she'd never really had romantic feelings for him. To be completely honest, she still wasn't sure if she did or not, but if it was something he was open to, she was definitely open to exploring the prospect.
Either way, it was a nice distraction and gave her head a chance to clear a little. She still wanted drugs, wasn't sure there'd ever be a day she didn't want drugs, but the itch was a little bit easier to keep from scratching suddenly.
•••••
"Fucking Christ, Joe," she mumbled as she woke a week later, Joey's elbow having just somehow connected with her chin while he slept.
Joey, whether it because of his small size or just the fact that he was a little younger, was one of the cuddliest people she'd ever met. He'd taken to sleeping in her bunk with her, curling up beside her or wrapping himself around her. Most of the time, she loved it. It made her feel warm, loved. Other times, though, he tended to be just a little abusive when he was sleeping deeply enough.
Her chin stung and she'd bitten her tongue somehow. She tried to get back to sleep but couldn't manage it, opting to roll out of the bunk and try and find something to eat instead. Everyone else slept peacefully around her; she could hear assorted snores and other sleep sounds. She didn't know what time it was, but the bus was rolling so she could only assume it was the middle of the night.
As she shuffled into the front lounge area of the bus, she was immediately startled by a dark figure slumped into the corner of the bench seat, a book and small flashlight in hand.
She could just make out the band's vocalist, Corey Taylor's long multicolored curls in the dim light of the flashlight. He looked up at her as the bus' floor creaked underneath her, his blue eyes wide.
"You scared me," he admitted quietly, putting down the book in his hands. She nodded, flipping on a nearby light and rummaging in a cupboard for the snack she'd set off in search for.
"Sorry," she told him, feeling oddly awkward around him.
She and Corey had never been particularly close; in fact, he was probably the member of the band that she was the least close with, and since she'd been on the tour he'd been even more distant than usual. That moment in the front lounge of the bus was the first time they'd spoken in the almost two weeks they'd been living in such close quarters in what was essentially a rolling tin can.
Grace wasn't sure why they hadn't been close but mostly chalked it up to the fact that she knew he'd struggled with drug and alcohol problems himself and even though she was just as much an addict as anyone else, she did at least make an effort not to surround herself with people with such similar interests to try and minimize the trouble she was able to get into.
"Why are you reading in the dark in the middle of the night?" she asked him, and he shrugged.
"Couldn't sleep," he answered simply, and she nodded. "You don't have any pills, do you?" he asked her suddenly a second later, almost like the question had risen out of him accidentally.
She shook her head.
"Nope. Even if I had at some point, someone would've strip searched me and found them," she said, joking about the strip searching part but knowing full well the rest was true. Especially after the club the other night, the guys were watching her even more closely than they had been before.
"I stopped drinking a few months ago," he told her, and she nodded.
"I heard. So, you're trying to shift the focus to prescriptions?" she asked, and he shook his head.
"No. I just... I feel like shit," he told her, and she nodded.
She knew Corey had quit drinking not long ago, which was another reason she'd sort of steered clear of him. She was already bitchy enough on her own, she didn't need someone else that was feeling the same shit she was.
"So do I, if I'm honest," she admitted, finishing spreading peanut butter onto the sandwich she was making and sitting down beside him.
"What happened to your chin? There's a bruise," he informed her, and she rolled her eyes.
"Joey assaulted me in his sleep," she explained, and he nodded slowly.
"How's your forced recovery going?" he asked, and she shrugged.
"Depends on who you ask. If you ask me, I say 'fine'. If you ask Mick, he'd probably say the opposite on account of the fact that I did find a night club the other night and attempt to find drugs," she told him, and he nodded again.
"Recovery fuckin' sucks," he mumbled, and she coughed out a quiet laugh.
"Sure does," she agreed, taking a bite of her sandwich and then offering it to him. He took a bite himself, chewing slowly.
"Are you and Jim... together?" he asked her suddenly, another question that sounded like he hadn't quite meant to ask it. It caught her off guard, making her eyebrows furrow together in confusion. She hadn't known anyone other than Mick had seen them that night.
"No, we... no," she told him, shaking her head. "Why?"
Instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed her. The movement surprised her and she jumped back just slightly. Corey's blue eyes studied her, but he didn't seem to really be phased by her surprise.
"What are you doing?" she asked him, and he shrugged.
"I can't sleep. You have an assault sleeper in your bed. We're both single. Why not?" he asked, and she closed her eyes and thought about it for a second.
"Fuck it. Why not?" she repeated a second later, leaning in and kissing him again.
