Page 117 of Arrogant Puck

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand as she destroys my space like she’s a crackhead searching for drugs. “I told you that I’m not using! You don’t believe me?”

“How can I fucking believe anything that comes out of your mouth?” She whirls around, a pair of my boxer briefs in her hands. “You told me you gave me all your shit and I find this bag of fucking pills!”

The accusation hits sharply. Because she’s right, I know I didn’t give her all my shit. But I wasn’t saving it around for later. I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want to look like a total fucking addict. I already have every accusation in the book thrown at me, and I didn’t want her to judge me because I care what she thinks.She’s been my high, my escape, my fucking salvation and hope. I can’t lose her over something this stupid.

“I forget where I’m hiding all my shit,” I mutter, hearing the blatant lie in my voice.

“You forget?” Her laugh is harsh, bitter. “You forgot about a bag of oxy’s? Jesus Christ, Slater, do you hear yourself?”

“I’m clean, Sage!” I’m shouting now, my voice echoing off the walls. “I’m not fucking high! I have shit hidden throughout the house. I don’t fucking know where. It’s just everywhere!”

“Oh, am I supposed to believe that you’re telling me the truth?”

“I want you to trust me!”

“Trust you?” She throws the boxer briefs back in the drawer. “You’re lying to me! You promised me you gave me everything, and now I find out you’ve got a fucking pharmacy hidden throughout your house!”

I grab her wrists, desperate to make her understand. “I’m not taking them. It’s been on and off for years. I swear to God, I’m not—”

“Let go of me.” Her voice is ice cold, and when I don’t immediately release her, she jerks away hard enough to stumble backward. “Don’t you fucking touch me when you’re lying to my face.”

I’m spiraling now, grasping for anything that might convince her. “Buy a fucking drug test. Piss test, blood test, hair test whatever you want. I’ll pay for it. I’ll take it right fucking now!”

“A drug test?” She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You think you can manipulate me into buying fucking drug tests? No. This is about trust, Slater. This is about you promising me something and then me finding out it was bullshit.”

“It wasn’t bullshit! I gave you what I remembered—”

“What you remembered?” Her voice rises to a near-shriek. “These aren’t car keys, Slater! These are drugs! Addictive fuckingsubstances that you apparently scatter around your house like Easter eggs!”

“I know how this looks—”

“Do you? Do you really?” She’s pacing now, her hands shaking with fury. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you played me. Made me think you were actually falling for me while you kept your backup stash for when things got hard.”

“That’s not—”

“What the fuck is it then!” She stops pacing, fixing me with a stare that cuts straight through me. “The last time you took these… it was because we got into a fight, Slater. You went and got drunk and then high as a fucking kite because I hurt your feelings. And now you want me to believe you’ve magically found the willpower to stay clean?”

The reminder of that night—of how badly I fucked up, how close I came to losing her—makes my chest tight with shame and anger.

“I haven’t touched anything since then,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not one fucking pill. And I’m not going to, even after this fight. I just need you to calm down and talk to me.”

“Talk to you?” she mocks, laughing cynically to herself.

“You know I’d lose everything, right?” The words rip out of me raw and desperate. “Hockey, my scholarship, my entire fucking life!You!Do you think I’m stupid enough to throw that away for some fucking pills?”

“I think you’re an addict!” she screams back. “I think addicts do stupid shit all the time because that’s what addiction is!”

The word hangs between us like a curse.Addict. She called me a fucking addict, and the worst part is she’s not wrong. I am exactly as she says—someone who hides drugs around his house and then forgets about them, someone who pops pills when life gets overwhelming, someone who lies even when he doesn’t mean to.

“You don’t understand,” I say, my voice hoarse. “You don’t know what it’s like—”

“To be an addict? You’re right, I don’t.” Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “This is bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Sage. You’re upset about something from my fucking past, and I get it. I’m not getting high though. I would lose everything I worked my ass off for. I wouldn’t fucking do that. If it makes you feel any better, they have routine drug tests for me for hockey. I promise on my life I’m clean.”

She stares at me for a long moment, and then something shifts. Her shoulders drop the tension, her face softening as what I’m saying finally registers.

“Is that why you’re so on edge all the time?” she asks quietly.

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