Clarke smiled broadly. Were it not for being group, Ashley would have been frightened by his expression. But surrounded by people who seem genuinely interested in one another, it took on a warmer tone.
"You've taken the first step, Ashley." Clarke clasped his hands together. "Alright, who's next?"
Over an hour later, Ashley and Craig boarded the bus. Craig held her hand tightly and pulled her into a seat.
"I'm really proud of you." He said, sitting his chin on top of her head as she leaned against his shoulder. "I didn't think group would go that well."
"Neither did I." Ashley snaked her arm around his waist. "Thanks for making me go."
"Thank Joey when we get home." Craig chuckled. "He can be an ass but he just tries to do what's best for me. For us."
She rolled her eyes at him, letting the steady motion of the bus lull her into a sleepy haze. She wanted to stay like this forever; the brink between awake and sleeping, where the only thing you feel is warmth and comfort away from the reality.
Her eyes flew open: this was like the drugs.
"You okay?" Craig asked, rubbed her shoulder softly. "You jumped."
"Yea, fine." She feigned a smile. "Are we almost home? God, this bus takes forever."
The bus screeched to a halt, jostling Craig and Ashley from their seat.
"Here." Craig said sarcastically.
Even though it was still early evening, they both changed into pajamas and lay in Craig's bed. His television was on, the flicker giving off an eery blue glow.
Ashley lay beside him, closest to the wall. She pulled the covers tight around her chin and scooted closer to him. She had missed this in London. Riley was her friend, her confidante, but never her lover. She shivered at the thought of him. He had had so much talent.
"Craig?" She said his name quietly, secretly hoping he didn't hear her.
"Yea?" He rolled over to face her, their legs becoming entangled.
"I'm scared." She felt her body begin to shake. "I don't think I can do it."
"Do what?" His brow furrowed in concern.
"Be like this." She curled into herself. "Who am I? Who is this person?"
"You're Ashley Kerwin." He grabbed her palm, tracing the lines with his fingertips. "You're seventeen going on ninety, you've got a great sense of humor, a beautiful smile, a laugh that makes me melt..."
He leaned over, his lips gently grazing hers.
"And I love you." He whispered.
She pulled herself closer to him, kissing him once more. His hands groped for her waist and he held her as they kissed. She tugged his shirt over his head, then tossed it to the ground. Her own t-shirt soon joined. As they kissed and groped and touched one another, a fleeting image of the swaying nightmare flashed in Ashley's mind.
She made a noise similar to that of a frightened kitten. In seconds, she was below the comforter once more, her back to him.
"Ash?" Craig's voice was tinged with concern. "What's wrong?"
She mumbled something into the blankets, her shoulders beginning to shake as she cried.
"Ash, talk to me." He pleaded as he stroked her hair. "You've got to talk to me."
"I'm fucked up." She whispered harshly. "This. This is fucked up."
"No, you're not." He replied softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You're here with me and that's all that matters."
"What if being with you doesn't fix me?" She asked, her eyes wide. "I don't want to be like this."
"Like what?" Craig grabbed for her hand but she pulled away.
"This. Neurotic. Moody." She spat the words out as if they were poison.
"You've had a shit time since you got back from London, you have to admit." He said calmly, forcibly grasping her hand. "You can go to therapy. It really helps."
"So I go to group with you for the rest of my life?" She tried to pull her hand from him once more, but he held it tight.
"There's a rape survivors' group on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I think Paige went for awhile before court." He squeezed her hand supportively. "You've gone through the worst part when it comes to kicking the drugs. Withdrawals are gone, aren't they?"
She nodded faintly, wondering what pills she could find in Craig's medicine cabinet. She knew he took some form of Lithium, but she wondered if he still had the Ambien from when he was having trouble sleeping. A few of those and she would be blissfully numb for two or three days.
"Look, trust me." He pulled her close. "Everything will be fine. You'll go back to school, get into therapy. It's all going to be a-okay. Capiche?"
She smiled; God, she loved him.
"Capiche."
She dreamt that she and Riley were dancing in the rain, on the rooftop of their flat. They laughed as they tossed their shoes to the street below, giggling as they heard one of her heels hit a car. She remembered the mountain-sized lines that they had snorted before silently creeping up the fire escape.
The K made her mind swirl with the lights of the city, the rain only intensifying the effect. Each raindrop felt like a waterfall. Riley grabbed her hands as they spun in circles, laughing and squealing as the rain fell harder.
"Dare me to jump off the roof!" He had shouted, leaping to the bricked edge, his hand over his heart.
"No!" She had laughed, falling back onto her elbows. "I know you'll do it if I dare you to."
"Well," he paused, saluting her. "You're loss."
He jumped. She had shrieked, running to the edge. Peering down, she heard him laughing hysterically as she saw him standing a few feet below on a landing.
"You are such an ass." She had said, hoisting him back up.
"Oh, but you know you love me," he had giggled as he struggled to get his long legs over the edge.
A soft nudge woke her from her sleep. One eye opened, squinting at the band of sunlight that seemed intent on blinding her. Craig was sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging a pair of jeans over his boxers. His back tensed as he felt her move.
"Awake?" He asked softly, glancing behind him, his damp hair dripping into his eyes.
"Mmff." She murmured into a pillow, pulling the covers over her head.
"Your mom called. Said she wanted you to go to school." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You up to it?"
"Do I have a choice?" She groaned, tossing the covers off, then, quickly realizing that she was still topless, tugging them back up.
He laughed at her, pulling them back down. He leaned over, inches from her face.
"It's not like you have anything I haven't seen," he whispered, quickly kissing her.
A tingle ran up her spine. A thought scurried through her head: maybe Craig could be her drug of choice. His mere presence sent her into a brief fit of euphoria. Maybe she didn't need a chemical to lift her above it all.
She decided to dwell on it later.
"We should leave soon," Craig said, paying no attention to her glassy expression. "I still have some of your clothes from before you left. You've lost a lot of weight since then, but they'll do for now, right?"
She nodded, only half-hearing him. He was so cute, she thought. He pulled a pair of her jeans and a faded t-shirt from his bureau, tossing them on the bed. He picked her bra from the floor, handing it to her.
"Hey," he sat beside her, crossing his legs. "You feeling better today?"
"Yea, sure," she nodded nonchalantly, clasping her bra. "Thanks for putting up with me."
"Eh, it's nothing." He stretched back leisurely, his hands behind his head. "You put up with my shit - it's only natural that I return the favor."
She shrugged in agreement, sliding the jeans over her thighs. They were noticeably big. Parachute-like, even.
After she had washed her face and briefly applied some of Caitlyn's leftover make-up, Craig poked his head in the bathroom.
"Ready? We're kinda running late." His smile instantly brightened her mood.
"Ready."