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Nightclubs are my worst nightmare as a recovering addict. Well, recovered. Though one thing I was told was that recovery is not a one-time thing. You're always in recovery and always recovering. It's an ever-flowing thing, like a river, I suppose. Though the difference is with a river, it always goes one way, whereas recovery is a river that can ebb and flow, go back and forward.

Luckily for me, it's been one river towards the ocean of constant recovery. Thanks to August.

This evening has been fucking hard. Alcohol at dinner, alcohol in this club, cigarettes, and I can definitelysmell drugs, like weed going around this place. Drunk and high people are everywhere, and I can't even hold August's hand for support because we're not meant to be together.

"You okay?" August asks in my ear. Luckily, the music is loud, so to speak to anyone privately, we have to literally get in people's ears so this doesn't look too intimate.

"Not really, no," I answer. "Too much... stuff."

"We can leave; I'll tell them I'll take you home as you're not feeling well?"

I shake my head. "No, I want to stay a bit longer for me. Give it another twenty minutes?"

He looks into my eyes, and I melt. The concern radiates from him, the pure love and understanding flow into me. He nods. "Text me when you're ready to leave and I'll find you."

I know why he's about to leave me alone – suspicions will arise from everyone if they see us together too much. Despite me needing him tonight, our livelihoods are riding on whether people get suspicious of us or not.

When August walks away, I make my move for the rest of the group in the middle of the club. My eyes hover around the place, and I see the same guy I've seen around the club all night. Tall, short blonde hair, black hoodie and jeans. The guy has been watching me all night whenever I look over. Wherever I go, he's there, lurking. I can't work out if he's bad news or whether he seems interested in me. That's what people do, right? Lurk in clubs, hoping to find someone to take home or maybe find a date.

That's what people said they did at work or something. Jenny said something about trying to find me someone to hook up with tonight, but I laughed her off, and I noticed August's face looking like thunder at the mere mention of it. He kept silent, though.

I've never even gone on a conventional date since Isaac. After he went to prison, my wealth of knowledge about dating has been August, and that's not conventional either. The most normal it's got is when we went to the West End last weekend, and even that had to be hush-hush.

Even just thinking about that makes my head pulse with stress, even more than the bass of this music is doing. I've lost so much random shit to addiction, homelessness and the weird way my life has gone so far. University, a career I wanted (initially – I like my job now), dating, clubbing like this for fun... it's strange to think about. Those years of eighteen to twenty-something, when you're in university, are all about making mistakes, learning, securing a career and enjoying yourself, and yet those mistakes I made have had such a ripple effect and have stopped me from experiencing so much while also making me experience different things.

My head is fucking pounding. I really do just want to go home. How does anyone enjoy this?

I suppose the same way most people would've questioned me on how I could've enjoyed heroin.

I need to stop thinking about fucking Isaac West, but every time I experience something new, he crosses my mind with his stupid drag of a life I chose to have with him. Isaac West is a drug; take one drag of him and you're addicted for a long time.

I haven't seen him since he cornered me in the alley at work last week and made me give August near-cold coffee. The thing is, I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing because he could be up to something, but he could have also given up on me.

I almost laugh inside at that thought; Isaac doesn't give up on shit he makes a promise to do or get, and apparently I'm one of those things.

I finish my diet lemonade and leave the plastic cup on the bar.

Making a beeline for the toilet to have a break from this shit, I see the guy moving again. He's not looking at me this time, but I think he's moving my way as I walk through the crowds of gyrating bodies smelling of alcohol, sweat, and various drugs.

The haven of a quiet corridor is ahead, so I rush for it. When I turn right, the hallway opens a little and I find a couple making out at the back, as well as the doors for the toilets.

"Hi."

I glance up and come face to face with the guy who's been watching me from the bar.

"Um, hi. Sorry, do I know you?" This is fucking awkward – how do you talk to a stranger? How do I know what he wants? How do I reject him nicely, if that's even what he wants?

"No, you don't. I'm Ryan. Sorry, this is forward." He runs a hand through his hair. There's an outline of a tattoo on his wrist, but can't make it out. "I've been watching you from the bar and wondered if you wanted a drink, or a smoke... or something?"

I glance down for a moment, unsure of what to say. Do I say no? Do I let him buy me a drink?

"I, uh, don't smoke. My name is Avery, by the way." Why did I say that?

He nods with a small, awkward smile. "A drink, then? You're... you're gorgeous, and I keep trying to think of ways to approach you and ask, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Then I saw you walking away and knew I'd regret it if I didn't ask."

Oh, fuck. That's... not what I wanted out of his mouth. That's so awkward. For one, I'm not gorgeous. August calls me that and I still don't believe that because how can I be good-looking after everything I've done? I'm not bad looking, but knowing the shit I've done, my insides make me less attractive.

I suppose this guy doesn't have the liberty of knowing me yet, so he gets a pass.

Second, I'm sort of spoken for.

"Thanks." I shift my weight awkwardly onto my other leg. A drink wouldn't hurt, right? Get rid of suspicions on me and August if anyone saw us together earlier, and a free soft drink would be epic with these prices. "A drink would be great."

He smiles. "Yeah? Great! What's your poison of choice?"

Heroin would be a fucking awful joke, wouldn't it? I mean, it's also not true anymore, but whatever.

"Diet lemonade; I'm boring and don't drink alcohol either."

He gestures me with him, so I go back down the corridor towards the thumping bass music. "I'll go order. You go grab a seat?"

"Sure." I nod and smile before making my way to a free table. My eyes swivel around the club, but I can't see August anywhere. Jenny and Sarah are looking this way and silently cheering me on. They are so drunk it's almost criminal, but they decided to go for it tonight.

Ryan appears with two drinks in hand. He smiles as he passes me my lemonade, fit with a red straw.

"Thanks." I take it and sip from the straw. Tastes exactly like diet lemonade; sometimes they get it wrong and you can tell it's got sugar in it.

"No problem." He sips his beer.

I lift my eyes and spot August as he walks through the crowd. When he spots me, he narrows his eyes and stops.

Jealousy clouds his features, but he nods, clearly getting why he shouldn't come up. He makes a small texting gesture with his hands; he's telling me to text if I need anything. Not sure why I even know that, but I give him a knowing smile.

Ryan leans closer as I sip more of my lemonade. "How old are you and what are you here for tonight?"

"Twenty-four, here for a friend's leaving drinks from work."

"You don't drink, though, so this can't be that fun."

I shrug and give a small giggle as I drink some more lemonade, simply to feel less awkward about this. Is it wrong of me to sit here and feel a bit flattered simply so I don't have to spend the rest of the evening in the toilet, waiting to leave?

"What're you doing here tonight, anyway?" I ask.

He smirks. "On my way to a job later."

That makes no sense, so I just laugh it off and sip more of my drink.

My phone vibrates. I quickly check it to see a message from August. 'You don't have to pretend to like someone else. Just tell me and we'll leave. I'll pretend to save you from this idiot.'

I look across. August's eyes are dark, and even in the dark of the club, I can see just how jealous he is. It's a fucking hot look, I have to admit, and makes my body yearn for him with how wanted he makes me feel with just a single stare. Someone like me doesn't deserve to have a man look at her like this and feel so beautiful, and yet he's standing on the other side of the room doing just that. I suppose not being able to be openly with him is my payment in karma.

"So, what's a gorgeous girl like you doing here alone? Not got a boyfriend waiting for you?" Ryan asks, cutting the feeling away from me.

My mouth feels dry, so I down the rest of my drink. Despite there being no sugar in this, it's making me more thirsty. Isn't that the opposite of what it's supposed to do?

My eyes go down to my phone, which vibrates again. 'I don't like this...' The rest of the message blurs a little.

"Was that alcoholic?" I hiccup. "I'm not feeling right."

Ryan laughs. "No, you asked for a lemonade. What's up, Avery?"

I don't remember much about being drunk back then, but I remember knowing the world was spinning when I was hammered. The problem is, the lemonade didn't taste like alcohol, just plain old lemonade.

Sugar rush, maybe? Effects of being in this hot, sweaty place?

I put my phone in my pocket and move to look for August. He's not there anymore, and the people that are there seem like surreal blurs.

"I think I need some fresh air," I say. "Feeling a bit hot in here."

"Sure, sure, we can go outside," Ryan says.

I put my cup down and start to move off the chair, but the floor gets closer.

"Avery?"

That voice, it's like silky chocolate that saved me from the brink so many times I've felt like this. Afternoons where I've not been able to be awake, nights where I'd sweat everywhere, mornings where I couldn't stop scratching and screaming, it's been my one constant. Even when I'd try to punch him, leave his house to find drugs so he'd lock the doors, to the days where I'd cry and apologise for it all, where I'd kiss him, where we'd laugh redecorating the house... it's the angelic call.

"Come with me. We'll take you home."

"It's all right, dude, I was taking her for air. She's just had too much hot air."

"Avery—"

"I said back off."

I'm suddenly upright, an arm around my waist, clinging too hard for my liking. "I can walk myself, thank you." In a failed attempt to pull myself free, I end up nearly tripping over. After steadying myself, I try to work out where August has gone.

I've lost all control of my body and it makes me want to claw at myself. This is the feeling I was trying to get rid of for five years, and I broke it.

My brain drums, thrums. I want out of this skin, everything is light and weird.

There's a flush of warmth, a dizzying swirl in my eyes, tingles in my hands...

"Keep quiet, doll. You're going to see Isaac now. It'll be fine. He sent me to get you."

Isaac.

My feet stop, but my body jerks and a gush of wind flows up my body, cooling the heat fanning my body.

"Come on, just follow me."

A scream rings out at the same time as a car whooshes past.

Isaac. Did he do this?

Bile swishes in my stomach at the mere thought of him and what that means, but by the time I've realised, my brain is in a different place to my body.

My mouth opens to protest, but I realise I'm upright again, arms around my waist. There's a female cry not far away, and some yelling. It sounds like arguing.

Am I... high? Drunk? Sick?

Everything feels tingly, light, but so surreal.

This isn't how heroin feels; despite it being so long ago now, I still remember the distinct sleepiness of it like it was yesterday. This is more like a withdrawal, but I am so fucking careful with what goes in my body—

But that voice told me I was going to see Isaac.

"Avery. Avery, look at me..."

That voice cuts through everything, and as my eyes stop and focus on it, I see him in front of me.

But somehow, the darkness wins, and the lightness of my body gives out until I'm nowhere anymore. 

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