I’m still sore the next day, a stupid smile on my face. It’s that good sore between my legs, proof of what happened yesterday. Proof that I didn’t get high, proof that he did fuck me in a way I didn’t think possible. It’s a good buzzing, aching sore, and I love it.

I don’t know why. I’ve never felt this way before, not about discomfort. It’s strange, I’ve lived for so long as an addict, barely existing on the margins of society, but I’ve always hated being uncomfortable. Maybe that’s why I’ve always made sure I had a fix. I hated the feeling I got when I went too long without it. I also hated sleeping on the floor or forgetting to brush my teeth. Little things, little comforts. I don’t know how I survived as an addict.

But really I do. I survived because I attached myself to shitty men like Leo and let them do whatever with me as long as I got my little comforts and my drugs.

Maybe I’m doing the same thing now, but I doubt it. Julian isn’t comfortable, he doesn’t provide anything. Except for sex. Mostly though, he’s intense, handsome, smart, funny. I like being around him. That’s what he provides, himself and his body. Leo himself was garbage, but I liked whatever he had around him. Julian is the opposite. Everything around us is broken, but he’s something good, and I don’t know why.

I should hate him, but I don’t. Maybe I’m making all the same mistakes.

I smile up at the sky. I’m sober and I can feel it. I breathe deep, taste salt in the air. I hear gulls nearby, cars nearby. I kick a loose rock and watch it skitter into someone’s yard. Maybe I’m making all the same mistakes but at least I’m making them sober. At least I’m making them on purpose, instead of in a blind half-alive panic born of addiction and frenzied uncontrollable need for a substance to keep me going. I’m making my own damn mistakes and bad decisions again and it feels good.

He didn’t want to let me outside, but he didn’t stop me, either. I took some money from my bag and asked what he wanted to eat.

“You’re going today?”

“Yes, I am. Better put in your order now.”

He frowned, but he told me what he wanted, and here I am. The diner’s a few feet away and I’m hungry, but I’m taking my time anyway.

I feel freer than I ever have. Maybe that first day away from my parents, maybe I felt freer back then. At least I felt like I had more potential. I saw the whole world in front of me. Now I don’t have that same feeling, I know what I am and where I’m likely going, but for some reason it doesn’t matter. For some reason, I’m just happy I’m the one going there.

I head inside and step up to the counter. The diner’s full of people and I know I should keep a low profile, but I can’t help myself. I smile at the lady at the counter as I put in our order and she smiles back. She pours me a coffee to drink while I’m waiting and I sip it gratefully, staring around the room at all the other people.

Tourists, families, locals, it doesn’t matter. They’re people, same as me. God, I feel so stupidly good, I almost hate myself for it.

I sip the coffee. It’s hot and strong. I notice two guys sitting off toward the back, both of them staring at me. I look quickly away, frowning a little. They’re big guys, heavyset, thick around the shoulders. They stand out like sore thumbs, like they don’t belong anywhere near this place.

I take a breath and let it out. I’m just being paranoid.

I sip my coffee but I can’t escape the feeling that they’re watching me. The waitress comes back and refills it with a smile.

“You from around here, honey?” she asks me. “Or on vacation?”

“From around here. And on vacation.” I give her a tight smile. “Little bit of both.”

She laughs. “I guess that’s how it is. Nobody’s born here.”

“You live here long?”

“Oh, ten years now.” She frowns. “Time flies, right?”

“Right.” I manage a bigger smile, letting out a breath, relaxing myself. She heads off to help someone else and I force myself to drink another cup of coffee and ignore the guys that I swear are still watching me.

The food finally comes. My good mood is basically ruined as reality leaks back into my world. I carry the bag out into the bright afternoon. This time, the salt and the birds and the overbearing sun aren’t an occasion for blind joy.

I walk fast back toward the motel. I glance over my shoulder at the diner, and I spot those two guys coming out, sauntering in my wake. They’re both watching me, and I make a snap decision. I veer away from the motel and start in toward town.

They follow. Not too close, but close enough that I feel like I need to speed up. I walk faster, and they match my pace, not getting closer but not falling back. I make a left turn, a right turn, really walking at random. I find myself in the middle of a strange neighborhood and those two guys are still back there, watching me, following me. I swear the shorter one is grinning like a maniac, hungry for a kill.

I’m freaking out. I know they’re here for me, that’s obvious. I never should’ve gone out of the room today. Julian would know what to do, he’d be able to handle these guys, but they’re both twice my size and I don’t know anything about fighting anyone.

I’m hyperventilating, freaking out. I hurry down another street and there’s a main road up ahead. Shops line the sidewalk and I try to lose myself in the crowd, skirting around people, darting through families.

I slip into an alley and stand there, pressed against a wall, breathing fast. One of the guys walks past, frowning and looking annoyed.

I have to get a hold of myself. I may not be Julian, but I can lose a couple of assholes like this. I was an addict for years, after all. I was an addict long enough to learn how to lose a tail and run away from people that want to hurt me.

I slip back out into the street, going back the way I came. I don’t see either of the two, and only one passed by. As I turn around another corner, I spot one of the guys up ahead. He turns and stares at me as I walk quickly in the other direction.

He follows close, talking into a phone. I hurry down another street, through an alley, and back out into a crowd. I dodge and weave through a group of people watching a guy doing a magic show for tips. I slip right past him and head down an alley, cutting between houses. Once I reach the other end, I turn a corner and run as fast as I can.

I sprint, full out, for a few blocks before looking back. The guys are gone.

I hurry down another street and stop for a minute to catch my breath before running some more. I stop and start and stop and start, going a circuitous route back to the motel. I never see the guys again, and I’m pretty sure I lost them as I finally spot the diner up ahead.

I walk right into the parking lot, heart hammering. I’m already picturing Julian’s face, what he’ll say to me when I tell him what just happened. I still have our lunch, clutched in my hands at least.

I walk down toward our room. As I turn toward the door, that’s when two shadows detach themselves from the corner up ahead. I turn and stare, but it’s too late.

They’re barreling toward me, eyes wide and angry, and I let out a scream.