Page 29 of Dirty Monsters

“Maybe if you kept your hands to yourself, I wouldn't have to walk the line with you,” he snapped. His eyes lit up with anger and annoyance of his own.

I shrugged him off. As drawn to him as I was, I wasn’t there to be his mood swing punching bag. I might have instigated it a few times but fuck him anyway.

“Who is that?” I’d asked, nodding at the guy in the pool, hoping Ro’s mood was back to blue.

“Fuck if I know.” He sighed. “He’s new at Orange House and not in my care.” He said it disdainfully, and it made me wonder if I wasn't the only patient Ro seemed to be bothered by.

“Okay then, so what’s the difference between Red House and Orange House?” I asked him so that we could move away from that conversation.

“I've already answered your question, but clearly, you weren’t listening. Are you listening this time?” I jerked my head back. Definitely not on blue. “Orange is basically the same as Red, except you have a lot more freedom here. They allow you beach and pool access. You also get to participate in recreational therapy, which might consist of horseback riding along the beach or paddle boarding alongside manatees, dolphins, or sea turtles.”

“When will I get to find out all my options for recreation therapy?”

“You’ll speak with Lisa about it today.”

“Lisa…”

“Yep, we like residents to keep the same therapist throughout their rehab journey. You’ve essentially already built trust with her, so why throw you with someone new?”

“Lisa is nice, but Lisa is boring. She asks too many questions, and even though I don’t answer them, she keeps asking. I need to request someone new. Someone with a hard dick and a smaller attitude.”

He scoffed at my half-joke. Lisa was nice, and I was sure she did her job well. But what I needed was fun and sex—a high. Especially if they expected me to be sober.

“You seem to know very little about this process.”

“You seem to know just about everything,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “Do you know where a girl can get a hookup?” I winked at him and nodded back toward Shawn.

“All you need to do is stay sober and stay in your lane. You want out of here? You want to slip back into your miserable existence? Then play nice, little rich princess for a while, and you can do all the drugs and dick you want. But not here, not under this roof, and not in my care.”

“Damn, dude, am I that far under your skin?”

“Not interested in getting tangled in your web.”

“Fuck off,” I breathed as I stormed off mad. I was tired of being treated like a child, and I was determined to avoid him the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

I’d spoken with Lisa and decided on horseback riding for my recreational therapy. Horses sounded better than humans. We also discussed what she would like to see in my progress over the next couple of weeks.

I’d decided I’d play along and make it seem like I was being impacted. Maybe Ro had one point. Play nice and get the fuck out of here.

At least in their eyes.

The Goody Two-shoes good girl in rehab shit was making me burn alive already. I felt lifeless when I was left to my own devices. I craved the drip of my little white powdery friend like I’d never felt before. Boredom left me with a sour taste in my mouth and the desire to rid myself of the darkness as it perfumed my soul. A taste of death, of freedom, of ecstasy. Anything.

I’d spent the evening feeling things out with the people I met in the Red House that had also moved to Orange. I ate dinner and then decided to head down to the beach to watch the sunset. But a sunset became the last thing I cared about when I remembered the beach wasn't private or imprisoned. Anyone could come and go as they pleased.

Like me.

I found my way down the sand dunes and stopped abruptly when I saw a man standing at the base of the dune. He was tall and shirtless with wavy blond hair cut slightly above his ears, muscular, and he looked like a god. How were guys in Florida so fucking hot? Was I just that sex-deprived, or did Florida grow them differently?

This guy held a smoking cigarette between his fingers, and the grin on his face as he watched me check him out told me everything I needed to know. An air of excitement and lust lurked behind those sinful eyes.

He returned my perusal with one of his own as he traced my figure in the dress I was currently wearing.

My skin prickled with the knowledge he was eyeing me with an air of corruption. It gave me an awareness I hadn’t felt in a while, and I wanted more. Almost as if his eyes were his hands trailing up and down every curve of my body as he went—each caress planned, devious, leaving me hungry.

There was a group of people lingering, but it was him I walked toward.