Distance

I spent the next few days in a state of depression.

School was hell, so I stopped going. I laid around the house, listening to the dripping faucets and the crackling radio, eating soggy cereal and wishing I hadn't screwed up so bad.

I wanted my best friend back.

Every day, every goddamn day, I watched the clock roll round to three, when I knew Danica was getting home. And I practically dragged the phone around the house with me, wanting her to call me so bad I practically ached.

Finally, that Friday, I dug out the remnants of my stash. I had barely enough heroin to fill a needle, but I shot it anyways. I laid out the lines of cocaine carefully on a cracked CD case, and snorted them greedily.

I lost count of them, concentrating on the high that was building slowly, until there was nothing left and I fell back against the pillows of my bed.

A dull roar had started in the back of my head and I giggled at the absurdity of it. It sounded as if an amp was plugged into my skull, an amp that was suffering from an excess of feedback. Scratchy and coarse, it blared through my mind, taking my senses down into darkness.

* * *

"Oh my god!"

"Get some ice! Just get some goddamn ice!"

"Bathtub.. Did it for Nikki Sixx..."

"Just hang on, baby. It'll be all right..."

* * *

I awoke in a freezing cold bathtub, completely naked. I could barely move. All my muscles ached dully in protest when I tried to stand.

Jordan was leaned against the sink, watching me lazily.

"How... How the fuck did you get in here?" I asked, my voice soft and raspy.

The older boy shrugged and walked over to the side of the tub.

"Danica and I stopped by. I don't even remember what she wanted, but we found you passed out on your bed. Good thing too. You were burning up with fever, barely breathing."
"Why am I in a tub of freezing water?"
"Get the fever down. I was doign CPR on you for a while, but once you started breathing on your own, I figured you'd be fine."

I leaned back, shivering slightly, but enjoying the feel of the water on my skin.

"Where's Danica?"

Jordan smirked a little.

"I wondered how long it would take you to ask me about her." He paused, but I didn't respond and he continued. "Tre came and picked her up about ten minutes ago."

I felt a huge swell of disappointment, and I looked away from Jordan. The boy sighed.

"I've seen the way you look at her, you know." He said quietly.
"What are you talking about?" I snapped.
"I see you. When your together and you think no one's looking, you stare at her. And when she talks to you, you get soft around the edges. Your guard comes down with her."
"So?"
"I think you're in love with her." Jordin told me. I was silent for a moment.

Was I? Could I be?

I dismissed the thought with a quick shake of my head.

"Can you help me out of this?" I asked, waving my hand weakly.

Jordan sighed, grabbed a towel, and strode over to me.

He handled me gently, as though I was something delicate, breakable. He wrapped the towel around me carefully, then, before I could protest, he swept me upwards, into his strong arms.

* * *

"Where should I..." I could sense his embarassment as he regarded my room.
"Just put me on the bed... I think I can manage." I said.

To be honest, I wasn't even sure I could move. But hey. Sleeping in the nude isn't a problem when your mother works the late shift.

Jordan placed me down carefully, then hovered uncertainly for a moment.

"D'you want some clothes or something? I don't think those blankets are gonna keep you real warm."

I paused, contemplating. Then I let a shy smile slip over my lips and assumed a playful tone.

"Well, you could always keep me warm." I flirted. Jordin grew red.
"Stop." He said quietly.

But there wasn't a whole lot of resolve in his voice.

I'd always liked boys, to be honest with you. Girls are amazing, terrific. I love them, and I guess I prefer them to a certain extent. But sometimes, I just find them too complicated. And I can't even begin to tell you how many times I'd meet a boy I'd want to sleep with. I don't like to think of myself in terms of labels, and tags. But I guess you'd classify me as a bisexual.

And, frankly, I just really needed someone to distract me.

I had never felt so alone. That entire week, I hadn't seen or heard from any of my friends. I'd locked myself away, and Jordan was probably the first person I'd spoken with.

It was selfish, and stupid of me. I was just making the same mistake a second time.

But this time, it was different. There really were no strings attached. Jordan was too proud to admit to anything like this, and I didn't care who knew.

So when Jordan shed his T-shirt and slipped into bed with me, I knew I'd have no regrets.

* * *

It was a blur.

Kissing him, touching him. Feeling his skin against my own, his tattoos painfully vivid against his pale skin. I felt his lip ring slide across my cheek, across my lips, sending shivers down my spine.

His hands, tracing the outline of my belly button before dropping furthur south. The soft whispers as we arched against each other as the sun dropped down below the horizon.

The climax, the final, clumsy ending, as we thrashed against each other, groaning and sighing. And then lying there, exhausted as the streetlights came on.

I felt nothing.

It was all empty.

I waited until he left, and then I cried bitter tears into my pillow, thinking I'd die of loneliness.

* * *

And I saw her face as I slept.