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Chapter Fifty-One
Point of View: Nick

The first thing I noticed when I work up was that the shit I'd taken was out of my system.

The second thing I noticed when I woke up was that it was still dark outside the window, the moon reflecting off the ocean below.

The third thing I noticed was the feeling of sexual tension coursing through my blood where the drugs had been.

Amazingly, it took four things before I noticed why.

I leaped up out of the bed, and Kayla's sleeping form slumped slowly forward into the impression made on the pillow where my shoulders had been. I looked down and found myself fully clothed and breathed a sigh of relief. I backed away from the bed, my head spinning, my heart pounding. What have I done? I wondered.

I grabbed a clock off the bedstand - 10:34.

Quickly, I ripped open the drawer beside the bed and rummaged before pulling out the small bag of powder that I'd left in there, along with a stash of Marlboros and M&Ms. I dashed for the bathroom in the hall, tripping over a pair of discarded sneakers, and almost fell into the wall. "Nick?" I heard Kayla call.

"Be right there!" I cried out as I crashed into the bathroom. I threw the toilet bowl up and dropped the bag in and hit the flusher, watching it spin and disappear. I fell backwards against the wall behind me, not even caring that the towel rack was stabbing me.

"Fuck," I whispered under my breath, my hand flying up to cover my face. "You fucking idiot," I scolded myself, "You stupid, fucking idiot." I curled down and my hands wrapped around my ankles as I doubled over, trying to breathe. The toilet bowl gurgled the last of its flushing lament and I panted, staring at the heating vent through my legs.

"Nick?" Kayla's voice sounded more panicked now, "Nick, oh my God, Zoe's gonna kill me!" she sounded louder, too.

"Not if she kills me first!" I yelled, releasing my ankles. I stood up and looked in the mirror. I looked like shit. I ripped open the door, "And trust me, she's gonna kill me."

Kayla's eyes softened in concern from the panicked expression she'd worn when I first opened the door. "Nick, are you okay? Were you crying?"

I'm sure part of the red in my face and eyes was from that, but I knew the look in my eyes too well, I knew others who'd seen me before would've recognized it, too. Luckily, Kayla was not one of those people.

"Yeah," I muttered.

I desperately wanted to ask her when she'd gotten there, why she was here, what had happened between us, what we'd talked about, what she'd said to me, what I'd said to her. A million questions. The last thing I could clearly, coherently remember was locking Brian out yet again and doing a line off a hard cover of a book I'd left on the bedside table. I couldn't remember Kayla. I actually want to remember something and now I can't?

The irony that I'd taken the shit to forget and now wanted to remember wasn't wasted on me.

Kayla frowned, "I feel bad leaving you."

"But you must," I said, "You're right, Zoe's gonna kill you."

I took her hand and rushed her downstairs before she could look into my eyes much longer and I led her to the door. "I'm sorry," I said.

Kayla stared up at me, "I gotta call a cab, Nick," she said, "I didn't drive here."

A cab would take too long. Kayla needed to be at Zoe's by 11 or Zoe would probably be over here castrating me or something. I grabbed my Camaro keys that I'd fished out of the tank and pressed them into her hand. "The buttons don't work, but the key still turns."

"I can't take your Camaro," she stammered.

"Take the Camaro," I commanded.

Kayla sighed, "Nick--"

"Please."

"Are you mad at --"

"You? No."

"Nick, I love you."

I froze. The words echoing in my ear. I felt my heart slam, my fingers go clammy. "You... you what?"

Kayla gave me a funny look, her eyes pinching together a little bit. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I wailed, thinking she'd caught sight of the hang over in my eyes. I grabbed the door and pulled her into the dark outside world. I pulled her down the stars toward the driveway, "Really, I am, I swear to God." I leaned over and kissed her forehead in a fast, panicked manner, "Seriously."

Kayla's eyes were full of tears, "Is this because of - of what we did?"

Again, I froze.

No... No you were dressed, you were both dressed, when you woke up. No, she doesn't mean that. She can't mean that. You'd remember that. Would I remember that? Shit, we didn't do that, did we? But if it wasn't that what was it? Shit.

"No," I finally stammered.

Kayla's eyes were so full of confusion. "Then why--" she stopped. "God, please don't tell me Zoe was right. Please."

I pinched my nose. "What?"

She closed her eyes, "I really meant it when I said I love you, apparently you didn't."

"I said--" confusion in my voice now, it made her look up at me. "Kayla, I -" I couldn't bring myself to say it. Any of it. Not love you, not don't know what I said, not made a mistake, not want to melt into the sidewalk and become festering mold on the bottom side of the earth's crust for all the bad shit I've done this week, nothing. I could say nothing.

Kayla turned and ran -not walked, ran- to the garage and pushed the door open with her hands. I started toward her, "Kayla, listen to me a second..." I said, deciding she did need to hear the truth, at the very least.

"No," she cried, "I almost broke up with Leon for you. I would've given up him, and a lot more than that, for you."

"Kayla I'm really upset right now, can't you understand why I don't wanna say 'I love you' right now? My ex just died," I begged.

She turned around, "But you already SAID it, Nick!" she sobbed.

I closed my eyes, the memory flooding me vaguely through the glaze of the drugs in my system. "Kayla," I whispered, "I was high."

Kayla stared at me, her jaw dropped. There was a long and terrible pause, and she shook her head, "Oh my God," she mumbled. "No wonder." She climbed into the Camaro and closed the door. The car roared to life, and she backed it out. There were probably twice as many cylinders in the Camaro as were in her Aveo, and she slammed on the gas too fast backing out and nearly hit the fountain.

I trotted in front of the car before she could leave. I grabbed onto the nose of it, and, keeping my hands on it, so she couldn't pull away without hurting me, I felt my way to the passenger door, which I pulled open and climbed into.

"What're you doing?" she demanded.

"If you get in an accident and die," I muttered, "I'm dying, too, this time."

"I'm not drunk," she yelled, "You're the only one under the influence apparently!"

"But you're emotional," I answered, "And your aunt said that's just as bad."

Kayla pushed too hard on the gas again and the Camaro went whizzing forward down the driveway. "Jesus this thing has power," she muttered, "No wonder you drive so bad."

I shrugged.

We rode in silence for a few minutes. In my head, I was calling myself every name I could think of, mentally torturing myself for my stupid mistake. As we came close to Zoe's house, Kayla slowed and pulled over before we turned the corner. She turned to look at me. "Nick?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like me for me or because of what I can do?"

"I like you," I answered solemnly.

"And you won't say I love you to me because you aren't ready, not because you don't want to?"

"I'm not ready."

"And you said it earlier because you were high, not because you wanted to get me in bed with you."

"Yes." I answered, feeling my heart break at the way she pronounced the word high like a dirty word. "But we didn't.... do anything... did we?"

Kayla frowned and turned forward, "Not a lot," she muttered.

"I'm so, so, so fucking sorry, Kayla," I whispered.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she answered, getting out of the car and dropping the keys onto the seat. She closed the door and I sat there in a car I couldn't drive, on the side of the street, staring after the woman I wanted more than anything, who I'd hurt... all because I had failed to fix myself.