Chapter 4. Drugs and Sex

By Evelyn

The week went by, and on Saturday he was hosting a party at his place to celebrate his birthday.

I didn’t know what to get him, so I decided on a plain shirt in French blue—since he’s blond, that color looks really nice on him.

I told him I’d come early to help him get everything ready.

He’d ordered all the food; at home, I baked him a cake, bought him a little candle, and a sign that said “Happy Birthday.”

I ordered an Uber—after all, I couldn’t ride my motorcycle with the cake.

When I arrived with the cake, he was really happy.

We made love, though afterward we had to rush to get everything ready.

There wasn’t that much to do, though, since the food was already prepared.

There were tons of drinks. When I asked him how many people were coming, he told me the usual crowd. I didn’t realize it until everyone was there, and my hunch was confirmed—there was way too much alcohol. But it was a birthday party, so I didn’t say anything.

Some girls showed up who I didn’t really like—they looked really tacky and were dressed almost like strippers. I dress pretty flashy myself, but these girls were different; I can’t quite describe it. Maybe I’m more attached to Omar than I realize and it’s just jealousy, though I don’t think that’s the case—I just didn’t like them because of the way they looked.

Everything was going fine until one of the guys pulled out a little packet containing cocaine.

Here we go again.

I’m really not liking the crowd Omar hangs out with anymore.

He might be a loving boyfriend, but when he’s with his friends, he changes quite a bit—especially since at every get-together, several of the guys end up high, including him. That sets off red flags inside me that scream “ALERT.”

His friend Benicio arrived and greeted me as soon as he walked in.

He saw the disapproving look on my face and realized what was going on.—They don’t

get it; they think they’re number one every time they do drugs.—Don’t you

do drugs?

—A puff on a joint every once in a while, I don’t snort cocaine, but these guys—and he points to the group that’s snorting—are going to have a hard time getting ahead; they’re developing an addiction.

“Yeah, I agree. Me too—every now and then I take a couple of puffs on a joint, but I feel like when I get home, my mom is going to notice the smell and I’ll be in trouble.”

“Do you live with your mom?

” “With my mom, my dad, and my sister, who’s five years older than me.” “How

old are you?”

“Eighteen—I’ll be nineteen in a few months. How old are you?”

“I’m 26.”

I feel like she’s looking at me the same way she did the other day, because her eyes drifted down to my mouth.

He looks up and locks eyes with me, and once again I feel a jolt inside; I lose myself in his eyes, but I look away—I’m at my boyfriend’s birthday party, in his apartment; I can’t be feeling that fire burning inside me when Benicio looks at me, especially since he keeps doing it.—Are you in school

?

He asks me suddenly, picking up the conversation after a few minutes of awkward silence.—

Yes, I’m studying to be a math teacher, and I also work.—I’m

really good with numbers, too; I’m an accountant.—I was

about to get my bachelor’s degree in accounting, but in the end I decided to become a math teacher; I really like teaching, and my sister is a math teacher, too.

“As an accountant, you’re also qualified to teach; some of the subjects you can teach are the same as those a math teacher covers, and you have better job prospects.”

“Maybe, but I found the teaching program easier. We’ll see this year—I’m not ruling anything out.” “Nothing

?

” he asked, and I think he meant it with a double meaning.

I didn’t know how to answer her, but I blushed.

The question must have had a hidden meaning, because she smiled—somewhere between shameless and sexy.

I got nervous.—“You’re

beautiful,

” she whispered in my ear.

I looked around for Omar, and when I found him, he was on his second round of snorting—I don’t know if you call it a “second round”; they’d already snorted before, and he was doing it again.

I sighed deeply.

I shook my head sadly.—Don’t worry

, he’s one of the ones who does the least drugs.

Benicio tells me.—

No, I’m not calm. I can’t tell him what to do. It upsets me to see him like this, and I can’t be there for him—neither in this situation nor when he hits that kind of low, when the high wears off. I really don’t know what to do.—How

long have they been dating?

—Five months.—That’s quite

a while; he’s never dated a girl for that long before.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I felt that Omar cared about me, that he really liked me—he’d told me he loved me many times, but I’d never said it to him.

Omar came up to me and kissed me, looking really excited.

I barely responded.

“What’s wrong?

” he asked when he noticed my mood.

“I don’t get the fun in doing so many drugs.” “Babe… it’s

my birthday… I promise you that later…”

“Don’t promise what you’re not going to keep. You know I’m not going to ask you to stop, even though I think what you’re doing is wrong and that you’re going to end up hitting rock bottom.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

He kissed me again, and I kissed him back, under Benicio’s watchful gaze.—Evi… Shall we go

to my room for a while?

—Now?

—Yeah… I miss you. I already regret throwing this party when you could be tied to my bed, fucking you like an animal—you turn me on like no one else.

Benicio heard every word Omar said; I felt really uncomfortable.

Omar kissed me again, sliding his hands under my clothes.—“Let’s

go,

” he said when he paused to catch his breath.

He took me by the hand and led me to his room.

A few times after he’s on drugs, it’s like he snaps out of it—or maybe I just don’t understand how the sensations he feels work—but he asks me to have sex.

We went to his room, and when we were in the middle of it, Liam walked into Omar’s room with a girl.

I didn’t like that at all.

I stayed still and asked him to leave, which he did, but he didn’t close the door all the way.

You could probably hear our moans, but Omar never lost his focus.

I wasn’t very comfortable when Liam walked in, and I wasn’t comfortable with the door ajar either, because someone else could walk in.

We got dressed, and I told Omar that we should sing “Happy Birthday” to him right then—not that I wanted to kick his friends out, but at least the ones who were the most drunk would have something else in their stomachs.

In the kitchen, I ran into Benicio again, and when I took the cake out of the fridge, he told me he was getting jealous of all the pampering and attention I was giving Omar.—He’s

my boyfriend…

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out because Hugo walked in looking for more glasses.

I gave them to him and then took the cake to the living room.

We sang “Happy Birthday” to him, and I was the first to wish him a happy birthday.

One of the girls I’d taken a dislike to walked up to him and greeted him with a kiss on the mouth, which he returned.

Then he looked at me.—“Sorry

, honey, I love you.”

That was it—that fixed everything.

When he came over to kiss me, I pushed him away.—

You must have that whore’s breath.—

Sorry, honey, I didn’t realize.

I didn’t answer him; I didn’t want to start crying in front of his friends, but I was really furious.

I ignored him and started playing with my phone.

The girl was smiling.

I was having a terrible time.

I went to the kitchen, and Omar followed me.—I already

apologized; cheer up.—Do you have

something going on with her?

—No, not right now.—

So you invited an ex over and kissed her right in front of me.—Evi

, Jazmín is the one who sleeps around; she’s not an ex.—

Whatever. We just had sex a little while ago, and that wasn’t enough for you—you kissed someone else.

“She just said happy birthday to me—that’s all… honey…”

I already wanted to get out of there.

I realized Omar was high and pretty drunk; he’s not the guy I imagined he’d be. I have to break up with him before he drags me through the mud.

He spent the rest of the night chatting and joking around with his friends.

Around 5 a.m., I grabbed my purse and my coat and, without saying goodbye, headed for the door. He had snorted cocaine again, along with that girl and a couple more of his friends.—Where are you going

?

Benicio asked, standing in front of me.—

Home.—

If you leave, I’ll probably end up in bed with the girl who kissed him—the one who hasn’t stopped chasing after him all night.—This

is more than I can handle.—You

deserve so much better.—

Thanks, bye.—You’re not

going home alone at this hour; I’ll drive you.—No

, thanks.—

I’m serious—it’s really dangerous.—

Thanks.

We left the apartment, and Omar didn’t even notice I’d left.

It hurt, but it helped me realize that no matter how much Omar said he loved me, he only did so when he wasn’t with his friends. It’s not that I was controlling—he had his freedom and I had mine—but with all those drugs, Liam walking into his bedroom, and him not even noticing—or worse, not caring— and that girl kissing him and chasing after him, and then them doing drugs together—it’s clear we’re on different wavelengths.

I decided to go home and talk to him later, when I was calmer.

I wasn’t going to argue with Omar in front of his friends, who were just as high as he was.

I decided to leave.