Page 16 of Final Temptation
I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth, and grabbed my unfinished coffee with a shy smile before heading out. Looking behind me, I made sure Myles was still inside when I tossed the remainder of my drink in the trash.
That was the worst, most sugary drink I’ve ever had in my life. How do people drink this kind of crap? I only spewed off a crazy coffee order to Myles to fuck with him and hopefully buy myself some more time. I didn’t think he’dactuallyorder it.
Luckily, there was no way he’d ever remember that order.
I told Myles I needed to head out to get schoolwork done—which wasn’t necessarily a lie. I had plenty of homework, but I also wanted to tidy up the guest room, which would now be his in just a few short days.
This weekend, I would officially have a hot-as-sin, fuck boy roommate.
Tomorrow was move-in day,and I slept like absolute horse shit the last few nights since I saw Sophie. It could very well be the fact that she looked hot as hell in that miniature yellow scrap of fabric she called a dress, or because I’d been tossing and turning each night, waking up from the same goddamn nightmare.
I’m so over it.
Like any other Thursday after work, I made my way to a meeting. I was a few minutes late, so I slid in quietly and listened to everyone speak, getting the things they needed off their chest. When the chair leader—the person who ran the meetings—stood up, he asked if anyone else wanted to speak. My hand shot in the air—in order to heal, I needed to make the effort.
Leaning forward, my elbows rested on my knees, and my head hung low as I took a deep breath. “Hello, everyone. My name is Myles, I’m an alcoholic.” The phrase rolled off my tongue like a habit.
“Hi, Myles,” the others repeated back.
“I’ve been having a recurring dream. Sometimes, I go days without having it, but this week it’s been nightly, like clockwork.” I interlocked my fingers, mythumbs fidgeting against each other as I stared at the hardwood floor, remembering every burning detail.
“Except, it’s not a dream. It’s a nightmare. It’s like living in one of those scary movies where you die, but you come back to life and live the same day over and over again. This nightmare is always the same. It starts the same and ends just as it always does.” I take another deep breath before vocalizing the details.
“I’m walking into a party. All my old friends are there. High-fives and handshakes are being thrown at me one by one as I make my way to the kitchen, where bottles of booze are lined up. Coolers full of beer are stocked, and everyone around me is choosing their vice for the night.I always choose tequila. I fill a solo cup halfway and sip from it all night, like anyone else would with a beer. I go back two or three times throughout the night between games of beer pong and flip cup. I continue to fill my cup every time it’s empty, and by now, I’ve had most of the bottle by myself. I’m wasted. As an outsider looking into my nightmare, I can see how truly fucked up I am. I’m swaying back and forth, slurring in every conversation I have, and taking hits at every joint passed my way. I don’t say no when someone asks me to take a shot with them. The alcohol is a mask; it tells me I’m having a wonderful time, that I’m invincible. I’m so invincible, I’ll say yes to anything.”My knee bounced up and down as I recalled the details of that night. The night that has haunted me ever since October 8th.
At this point, I could recite the dream from memory.
Every damn word.
“Hey, man!” Logan said, patting me on the back, like we were old pals who went way back. We were both fucked up beyond belief, shooting the shit and sharing a joint. “Would you mind driving me home later?” he asked.
“With what car? I Ubered here,” I slurred.
“I drove here earlier, man. I’m way too fucked up to get home on my own now.”
“And you don’t think I’m fucked up?” My response, drunkenly sarcastic.
“You look tipsy, if that. You’ve always been able to hold your liquor. Plus, I just live down the road. Take me home and I’ll let you crash at my place. I can take you back home in the morning.” I was getting tired, and it sounded like an ideal plan—my head hitting a pillow.
I was invincible, after all.
The next thing I knew, we were sitting in the car, with me behind the wheel. But I couldn’t find the will to put the car in drive. “I can’t do this, man. I can’t drive you home. My-my mind isn’t right.”
“Okay, okay…here, switch with me. It’s just down the road. I’ll drive slowly. Plus, I haven’t had a drink in an hour or so. We’ll be good, man,” Logan said in his most confident, inebriated voice.
In that moment, I made a choice I couldn’t take back. I switched seats with him, and we made our way back to his house from the party. We lived in the mountains for crying out loud—It was full of dark and windy roads. The tequila, a downer, like all other types of alcohol, started to sink in more as the night went on. I dozed off before we could reach our destination.
I’m jolted awake, not in real life, but in my dream. The hands that gripped my shoulders, shaking me awake, were of the man who sat beside me at the wheel. But it wasn’t his hands shaking me awake; instead, it was the aggressive shake of the car hitting something that felt like an earthquake. We were both coming to our senses, him quicker than me.He was now outside the car, but there was smoke coming from the hood.
I couldn’t see.
I got out to take a better look at what we hit. My eyes adjusted to the scene in front of me when I realized it wasn’t a what, but a who. I was running toward the car in slow motion—there was blood everywhere. I needed to get to this person and help. I was almost there. My hand was reaching out, but I was still too far.
I couldn’t see his face.
“And then I’m awake. Ever since the accident, my nightmares have been the same. At first, I wouldn’t be asleep long enough to see past the party. As time has gone on, I’ve gotten more pieces to the puzzle. But I’m fighting the feeling of knowing what’s a dream, and what’s reality.” My gaze finally drifted up to the eyes looking intently back at me. Not one person looked at me with judgment—each one of them with their own way of being able to relate.
“Thank you for sharing, Myles,” the chair leader said.
