Hooked

“Get in the fucking car,” he yells across the faded seat through the open window as he screeches to a halt in front of me.

I clamber in and he throws a duffel bag into my lap with a devilish grin. Clammy hands shaking, I clumsily unzip it to discover it’s stuffed full of cash. There has to be $20,000 in there, at least. Resting on top is a little black book...

My mind flashes to a memory. I’m 16 years old sitting across the bed from him. Amy Shark is playing in the background. (“Wrap your hand round the back of my head”) The room is dimly lit with a strand of Christmas lights and the fading sun. Random meaningless band posters haphazardly hang on the walls and misshapen lumps of dirty clothes are scattered across the floor. A cigarette burns slowly, marking the air with its smoky scent and dull haze. I can just make out his features amongst the shadows on his face. His sleek silhouette of smooth, tanned muscles and his shaved head makes my heart start to race. My Apollo. (“I’m a liar, I’m whatever you said”). He looks like a jock and he’s a total mess but he makes me laugh in a way that I know his heart understands mine. And I know when we kiss I’m going to fall into him. (“There’s a fire in you that gets me all upset”). I want to stay frozen in this moment. Frozen. Frozen. He’s lazily looking back at me, his eyes half hidden from the hood of relaxation. But I know he’s admiring my beauty. My innocent face. My blue yellow eyes. My long golden curly hair- that’s almost as wild and free as me. My curvy silhouette. You know- the kind of girl that looks like she’d be sweet to your grandmother, but if you touch her in just the right places all inhibitions become dust in the wind. This is it. (“And I’ll bring up the past while you try and touch my leg”). The moment that changes the path of a life is one that is unseen. But I see my life changing as I unfold my legs and make my way up to the top of the bed. He sees me. Me. He sees all of my past memories in my eyes. And he knows this will change me. He doesn’t say anything. He conveys all these things with his eyes. Because that’s how we were; we could look and just know what was in the other persons heart -in their mind -in their soul. We had that. Falling into him was the safest (or most dangerous) (could I recover from this?) place I could be.  I lean in and feel the heat from his breath. My soft lips are an inch away from his, parted in anticipation. My breathing is heavy. The smell of his aftershave tingles in my nose. Every inch of me is silently pleading for his touch. He puts his hands on the back of my head, tracing his fingertips, causing my nerve endings to delightfully scream and pulls me in. Winding his fingers around my hair, massaging my tongue with his tongue and then gently sucking my lower lip. His lips are goddamn plump and juicy. Let me get lost into you, forever. My sense of self has somehow lost its importance. This moment IS frozen.

I look up from the bag, mouth agape, and into his gleaming eyes. My heart is racing as fast as the moment he first kissed me. I knew back then, just as I knew right in this moment- he was my addiction. Totally 100% hooked.

“So where are we going?”