Page 10 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

“It should,” he breathes. “But that’s not life. Only certain people can overlook everything else.”

Squeezing his hand, I let a tear slip free. “I wish I could. I wish I could be in that group because a big part of me still screams that it might’ve worked.”

“Would it, though?”

I meet Jorge’s big brown eyes and feel my guts twist. “Guess I’ll never know.”

“Come here.” I let him hold me because I really fucking need it. And Jorge is always down for platonic cuddles—as he says. “If I liked dick, I’d wife you up in a heartbeat, Bebe.”

A wet laugh escapes me. “You couldn’t handle dick.”

He scoffs, rubbing my upper back. “My ass is better than yours and wouldgobbledick.”

“That is true.” Jorge does have a great ass.

“It’ll get easier. I promise.”

I know it will. The question is: when?

Eli

Forget Me

Another night in another city.

What the fuck am I still doing here?

The water in this hotel bathtub is cold, but I’m not shivering. No—I’m too numb.

Last night, I got cold sweats. I tossed and turned, begging anyone to make it stop. Leon found me Xanax. I don’t know how he got the stuff, and I didn’t bother to ask. It’s not the same as my prescription, nowhere close, but my head is quiet, and my body is limp. If I left and went back home, I wouldn’t have this problem. I have a stockpile of my medicine there.

But I can't go home.

It’s hard lately. I only want to quiet my thoughts and block out the constant roar. I’m not addicted to the stuff. I’mnot.Besides, you can’t be addicted to something that’s prescribed to help you. Leon still asked about it, though. His gentle questioning did nothing but piss me off. He treated me like some junkie going through withdrawals. That’s not what was happening.

Sometimes, my body decides to go haywire. Regardless, he said it didn’t change anything for him—that he wants me. He only wants me to be healthy and happy.

Little does he know, I’ve only ever been either of those things for short bursts at a time. And that hasn’t happened during whatever sort of relationship we have. I explained to him this morning that a person's mind affects everything. Every second of every day, my head tells me I’m nothing. Every day, I feel this toxin inside my psyche that doesn’t have an antidote. All I can do is silence it and bury the bad under a static cloud. And for the most part, it does work.

Now, though, I don’t have my medicine.

Sinking further into the cold water, I blow my lips and make a pitiful bubble. My knees pop out from the motion while I stare at the random picture of a mosaic octopus. I think I did it all on purpose, honestly. Leon, coming on this tour, feeding the beast of loneliness. I knew Phoenix was going to be within reach. I knew he’d be just as miserable as I am. My aunt always said I was a shitty person, so I might as well prove her right.

It isn’t that I want Phoenix to be miserable or hurt, but I know he’s single. I know that he hides way more than he used to. And at this rate, he’s going to end up fucking his cat.

He needs to get over me. He needs to move the hell on. If anyone ever asked me why, I’d tell them the truth. Being together is like driving with a nuclear bomb in your backseat and praying another driver doesn’t hit you.

It’sreckless. It’sdangerous.

And most of all? Deadly.

With how possessive he would get and how I’d feed that monster just because it made me feel special was honestly twisted as fuck. But I can’t stop how I am or manipulate people to get what I want. I wanted so badly for Phoenix to be the exception. Unfortunately, he wasn’t—isn’t.

I still want to see him. I still want to see his band play my song. I want to see his eyes flicker with fury when he sees me. God, I’m fucked up because just thinking about it has me hard. I’ve held off for a week since the tour started. I think it’s time to rip the bandaid off.

The spicy liquor burn coats my throat as I toss back the rest of my drink.

Thick, sweaty air coats my skin while I linger at the bar in the back of the venue. I fiddle with the paper band around my wrist, signifying I’m of age to be drinking. My left hand has a black X drawn over it, signifying I paid to get in here. I didn’t, but that’s a perk of fucking someone in the band. Music plays at a medium volume, blending in with the voices of all the attendees for the night. I don’t think the bar is visible from the stage, at least not with all the lights.

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