I was grateful that Quinn was my co-star on this movie. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else right now. Considering the fact that I was a fucking mess, trying not to ruin both of our careers, I was thankful that she put up with me at all. Having Quinn around calmed me, settled my bones when they started to rattle. There was something about her presence that made me feel like everything would be okay again.

After the shoot.

Always after the shoot.

I understood though. Quinn wasn’t wrong in asking me to maintain my high until we were done filming. At least I didn’t blame her for wanting me to be able to get through it. We only had three weeks left of shooting and then I’d figure out how to kick this damn habit once and for all. She said she’d help me and damn it to hell if I didn’t plan on holding her to that. It was beyond my control, how much I needed her in my life.

Since stopping the drugs cold turkey wasn’t going to cut it, I tried to do as little as possible to maintain a light high. The only problem was, once I started feeling that feeling, I didn’t want it to end. It was a vicious fucking cycle. There was no happy medium, like Quinn had asked me to find. I told her there was because I didn’t want her to worry, but the truth was that it was either be high as the sky, or crash into the pits of hell on the way down. I hoped she’d forgive me once she realized.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to see my mom’s name on the screen. I hesitated for only a second before answering. “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

“Just checking in. You okay?”

She always worried about me and she didn’t even know about the drugs. I imagined how absolutely freaked out and disappointed she’d be if she found out. “I’m good Mom. Just on set. How are you?”

“Fine, fine,” she said, her voice a little off and I wondered what tabloid report she’d read now.

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just this online site. It says that you were,” she stopped short, sucking in a loud breath, “Oh, nevermind Ryson. It’s nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice and make sure you were doing okay.”

“Don’t worry about me Mom and you know those reports are made up. Stop reading them.” I said, hoping she’d believe me.

“I know, I can’t help it. I like to follow your career, but there’s so little of that ever reported. It’s all,” she paused again, “it’s all bad stuff.”

“Mom. That’s what sells. That’s why they write it. I’m fine okay. But I have to go, they’re calling for me.”

“Okay. I love you,” she said, her voice sounding a little more like her normal self.

“Love you too. Bye.” I ended the call before freaking out internally about the gossip reports. It was true that the tabloids got things wrong all the time, but sometimes, sometimes, they got it so right. I hated wondering what she’d read and hated even more knowing that it was probably true. Most of all, I hated lying to her. It made me feel even worse than the fact that I was addicted to something I couldn’t seem to quit.

I needed something else to do. If I was going to stop with the drugs, I needed to replace them. It couldn’t be Quinn, I knew that, but I also felt like something was going to have to take their place. I was starting to worry that maybe I had some sort of addictive personality disorder, always chasing a high to feel content. The worst part was that I wasn’t like this before I did the drugs the first time. There had never been this overwhelming void inside of me just begging to be filled.

Glancing around my trailer, my eyes landed on a banged up surfboard hanging on the wall. It had been hanging there for so long that I’d practically stopped seeing it. I played a surfer in my last movie and had fallen in love with the sport after I insisted on filming my own water scenes. Well, most of them anyway. There was no way in hell that I could ride the kinds of waves these guys navigated with ease. That took years of practice and I’d been on a board for about two and a half months.

I took lessons from the best pro surfers in the area. I studied the water, wave breaks and reef placement. I practiced harder than anyone else because I wanted my work to look authentic. The only way I was giving the okay for a stunt double in basic water scenes was if I couldn’t make it look good myself. And apparently I did alright because the majority of my simple surf scenes made the final cut instead of the cutting room floor. I remembered how proud I’d been of my hard work and how much I loved being in the water. It was calming, almost meditative, floating there. How could I have forgotten that?

Reaching for the blue and white board, I pulled it free from its hangars and leaned it up against my table. After we wrapped for the night, I was strapping this baby to my car and hitting the water. If the ocean didn’t help kill me, maybe it could help save me.