Page 98 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

The two of them will go at it until Damien falls asleep.

I chuckle, pocketing my phone.

We have a night off between shows, so we plan on checking out this bar later. I guess it’s as good of a night as any to celebrate our rising success. But I feel fucking guilty. Always guilty. I am constantly aware that something prominent is missing from my life because Elistillhasn’t responded to my texts.

His phone is off, so all my calls go unanswered.

The receptionist, Taylor, will not confirm or deny that Eli is evenatthe rehab facility.

So, despite how great this is for us, I can’t feel that joy as deeply as everyone else. I’m just not whole. I won’t be until I get back on California soil and hunt down Eli. Or he contacts me first. Even then, I know it won’t be right until I can feel him again. See his pretty blue eyes, kiss his pierced lips.

Fuck. I miss him.

“Why can’t he just let me know he’s okay?” I slur, staggering through our hotel room later that night.

I don’t ever drink, and I did tonight. I’mhammered.

Jorge burps loudly, holding the wall. I don’t know how he’s doing it because he’s flat, arms wide. “It won’t stop spinning.”

“I don’t wanna sleep in here,” Devon whines. Wait, why is he in here?

“Huh?” I say, looking up from my blurry phone, tripping over the air.

“M-Michael is,” he groans loudly, stumbling to get his shoe off, “balls deep in…thatperson.”

“At least someone is getting laid,” Jorge sighs and burps again. Those do not sound promising. They’re wet and loud. “I don’t feel good.”

“Me either.” I collapse face-first on one of the beds.

Kelly isn’t drunk. She’s eating some strange sausage on a plastic fork covered in mystery sauce. “You should see yourselves. This should go on TikTok.”

“Not on your life,” Devon declares and falls by my face. His mohawk is down today, the neon green strands hanging over his face in thick, sweaty clumps.

“I’m doing it. Sayhiiii.”

I lift my head and wiggle my finger.

“This floor is so nice,” Jorge slurs, and I hear a wet smack.

“Did he kiss it?” Devon asks.

“Sure did. Got it.” That’s Kelly.

I attempt to roll on my back but can’t feel my body. So I try three more times and somehow end up on the floor. Jorge is licking the wall. Kelly is standing over me, smiling like some creep.

“Where are my Oreos?” I demand, feeling like I could eat four containers.

“We don’t have Oreos,” she says.

“Why the fuck not?” I try to lift my head for emphasis, but it stays where it is. Oh, this is terrible. I’m never drinking again.

“Why do you gotta be so pretty?” Jorge says huskily, and I giggle. “So pretty.” Another wet smack.

“Stop making out with the floor, Jorge!” Devon hollers and gurgles something wet, and then I hear Kelly shriek.

“VOMIT!” I cry out, shooting upright like the exorcist.

“Don’t puke while I’m making out,” Jorge whimpers, still fondling the wall or the floor? I don’t know anymore.

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