Happy

"Will they turn you on or will they turn on you?"

The next time she saw him was a couple of months after their encounter and of course, she had to be with Derek celebrating their third year anniversary when it happened.

It was on a Friday night at a ridiculously expensive French restaurant, the kind with dress code, live music, fine dining, and well-dressed waiters and it was a restaurant in Midtown so it would always fully booked. She knew Derek had to make the reservation months and months prior and she had just spent the entire ride worrying about how he was even going to pay for the evening. It wasn't like he was swimming in cash, and she didn’t want him to be in debt over an anniversary, but he said not to worry and so, she tried not to and do just that.

Not worry.

But maybe she wasn't just worrying about that; she was itchy in her own skin, feeling as though she was in the verge of combusting. She smiled through the incessant screaming in her head, anyway.

More. More. More. More.

As they were greeted and ushered to their table by the maître d', she took Derek's hand in hers, squeezing it a little, excitedly, "This place is amazing, Derek. Thank you."

"Anything for you, Addie." Derek whispered before placing a peck to her cheek.

A tea light candle sat in a brandy glass between them, casting a golden light in them. They hadn’t had much time to spend together since third year had started. Their schedules clashed and they hadn't even shared so much as a breath together, let alone talk. When she was on day call, he'd have the nights, and vice versa.

"And you're paying for this?" she asked in a hushed tone, dragging her fingers along the menu. She'd been here before with Bizzy but taking a look at the prices with people that weren't 'like her' sometimes put her wealth into perspective.

A twenty-seven dollar dish the size of her palm?

"That is correct," he told her sweetly, "I didn't not rob a bank, Addie. Don't worry. Trust me. I got this. Alright?"

"Okay," she replied, "I'm sorry if I ..."

"No. No. I get it." he rested a hand on top of hers, reassuringly, and laughed to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What is it?" she pushed, her voice almost a whine.

"You're cute when you worry."

Sneering, "I don't do cute." she informed him cheerfully, “So, how's psychiatry treating you?" she asked Derek in a way to change subject, and his brows furrowed.

"Yeah, I thought I would enjoy psychiatry since they’re, well, slightly on the same realm — the human brain is largely unexplored after all — but it's vastly different. I liked it. Just a bit too Freudian for me." Derek answered, turning to smile at the woman who filled their glass with water, "What about you? Nothing can be as exciting as psychiatry."

Addison huffed a chuckle at his sarcasm. They were always poking fun at psychiatry but she found the human mind intriguing — mental illness, chemical imbalances, addiction. It held no limits, unlike the human body.

"Well," she said, looking up from the menu and draining every last drop of sparkling water in her glass. She felt like she was burning up in her own skin, mouth so dry that her tongue was sticking to the roof. "I don’t know — I'm afraid — I'm not satisfied with general surgery — I don't know. Isn't for me, either, I guess. Let’s see next month; I’ve my mind set on OB for a while now — What’s yours next? Pathology?”

“Yeah. It is. Did you know Mark —“

“Hold that thought.” she interrupted him as she just couldn't take it anymore. “I’m sorry but I really gotta hit the little ladies room. I'll be right back."

"Yeah, sure."

She had barely taken a step away from the table before their waiter arrived at their side.

"Good evening. My name is Julius and I'll be your server tonight."

Mmhmm. That smooth as ice, melts like butter deep whisper of a voice rang familiar in her ears, one that went straight south. But hard as she tried, she just couldn't place where she had heard that voice before.

It was in place that was loud. Vibratingly loud. And there were bright flashing lights. Then, she heard that voice in a car — she remembered that voice telling her that it was a Eldorado. And then, she was in a bed that wasn’t hers, in an apartment that wasn't hers and they talked about a ... Stella?

No, she told herself firmly. This could not be happening.

Addison blinked against the onset of recognition, against the dread filling her up.

"Are you not satisfied with your table, Madame?"

When he called her madame and she turned towards the waiter, it hit her like a slap on the face.

Fucking fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Containing the urge to panic or blush or both, a cold shiver ran down her spine and she felt dizzy with anxiety. She tried to act normal, engage in eye contact as though she was talking to a complete stranger, a waiter, whom she had not had a one night stand.

Maybe he didn’t remember her.

He gave her a quick once-over and something suddenly seemed to click into place in his eyes.

I know you.

Oh, shit.

"Adrianne?"

Oh, double shit.

An awkward minute passed wherein Addison had absolutely no idea what was happening or how and what she would proceed with next because it had been a moment, a second too long for two complete strangers, who had never seen each other before to be silently staring, never tearing their eyes away from each other.

Now, under better lighting, the man had the most sharp, elegant cheekbones and jawline she had ever seen and combined with his dark curls, green eyes, and olive skin, he was everything and more she envisioned a Greek God to be. It was he from two months ago who had made her moan like no one ever could, who gave her an encore of orgasms — and perhaps, Diamonds was the added bonus. Either way it was by far the best sex she’d ever had.

"Dea —" and just as she was about to call him by the name she knew him by, she remembered that he had just introduced himself as something else, "Julius."

"You're here?" the man asked, still smiling with those dimples, excitement brightening his eyes.

"Yeah, well —"

"You two know each other?" Derek interrupted them, clearing his throat. She stammered as she was pulled away from Dean’s gaze.

Derek looked genuinely bewildered between them and Dean turned to look at her, smirking, awaiting and very much now amused by how she was going to spin the truth.

"Umm, yeah — yes, we do know each other," she tried to sound levelled and not out of breath with adrenaline and anxiety before continuing, "Derek, this is Julius. We know each other from high school," she emphasised on ‘high school’ when she looked at Dean in the eyes, "And Julius, this is Derek, my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, huh?" he asked, turning back to her and raising an eyebrow.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Just go with it.

"Yeah, this one and I go way back." he started, standing close to her, skin-to-skin crawling in goosebumps, before snaking an arm around her and pulling her into a side hug. "AP Biology. She was the only girl who hadn't already ran out when Mr. White told us that we were gonna cut up some frogs." he laughed, "Do you remember that?"

"Yeah, I do.” she laughed uncomfortably as she looked to Derek, seeing if he was convinced.

His face pulled into a smile. "That's my Addison. You should see her with a cadaver." Derek said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She noticed that when he did so Dean glanced down at their joined hands, his face twitched, jaw clenched tight, tiny micro-expression competing to conquer the serene palette she could not tear her eyes from.

The tension was so thick she could it with a knife. She felt so awkwardly caught in between the two man. Literally. One was holding her hand, the other still had an arm snaked around her shoulder; she felt Dean’s body tense next to her own.

She pulled away from him, smoothing down her dress so she didn’t have to look at both men.

God! What have she done?

"So, what's the special occasion?" Dean didn't quite look at Derek or her as he asked it.

"It's our anniversary. Three years." Derek answered.

"Three years?" Dean said behind a smile — a smile too wide and too bright for his tone, "Tell you what, Derek ... Addison. Dessert is on us."

The second she turned the faucet on, hands shaking from adrenaline and fear, looking at the reflection of a monster staring back at her, she took deep breaths, asking herself what had she done, and that was when the door bursted open — loud and wide and she shrieked, jumping back.

"Dean."

Julius?

She wasn’t sure what she should call him anymore.

Dean crossed the space between them, movements slow and deliberate, all careful, precarious control, and she eyed his every step as if he was an apex predator, a t-Rex and if she could just stay very still, she wouldn’t be spotted. Then suddenly she was pressed into the edge of the sink, his hands were settling on the marble behind her, rendering her no escape, only forcing their bodies flush from groin to lips — but not kissing, just breathing her in.

She felt lightheaded again. Dizzy. Addison brought her hand to Dean’s chest as an anchor, but when his hand closed over it with his own, pressing it to his chest so hard she could feel his heart beating, the opposite effect was bestowed upon her senses now, and she felt like she was floating in the air above the exchange.

"You hurt me, Adrianne." He brushed his hand across the top of hers, then lightly trailed his knuckles up her arm. He took his time, never breaking contact, as he moved from her shoulder to her collar bone, brushed her hair away from her neck, and eventually let his thumb trace the base of her jaw.

Addison froze the second he touched her, and stayed stone still as his fingers glide across her skin. When he was close enough that she felt his breath on her face, she dragged her eyes to meet his.

"Dean." She meant his name as a deterrent, but it came out as a small, shaky plea. "We ca —"

He covered her mouth with his, not letting her finish, smothering her protests and kissing her with such fervency that pulled a groan from her chest instead. She was kissing him back immediately, sinking into it, her hand snaking around the nape of his neck. It was like a fan had turned on in her brain, scattering all rational thoughts of said boyfriend waiting for her outside, and it took some time before they settle.

He bit her bottom lip lightly, once, then deepened the kiss, fisting a handful of fabric from the side of her dress and pressed their bodies closer.

Like merciful, frustrating clockwork, her brain clicked back on, and she curled her lips inward, tilting her head slightly away from him.

"Dean,” His name, spoken in a breathy whisper, sounded like stop. Don't. Please.

"No." He punctuated the word with a brief kiss, urgent and demanding, a contrast to the needy desperation of his next word. "Please."

Addison kissed him back even as she formulated her reply. "I can't ..." she looked towards the door, then, thought about Derek. What if someone walked in? Or worse, Derek? “We can’t.”

He pulled away, forehead against hers, his hand releasing its grip on her dress and sliding up under the fabric, fingers splaying across the bare skin of her hip. "Just for tonight. It doesn't have to mean ..."

There was a feeble attempt at bravado and confidence in his voice, and she was sure Dean had no idea how desperate he sounded, how fragile, like he'd dissolve into molecules if she’d let go of him.

"Dean —"

He kissed her again; the fan turned on, her protests fluttered away.

Once again she managed to disengage their lips, moving so her temple was pressed against the side of his forehead. Dean was undeterred; he traced his lips along the edge of her jaw, along the column of her throat, whispering, “Is Adrianne even your name?”

“Addison Adrianne.”

“So a technicality, then.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat. "Dean." Stop.

His hand crept higher up her waist.

"Dean." Don't.

His tongue swirled around the hollow of her neck.

"Goddamn it, Dean." She wrenched away, shoving him slightly, and he stumbled back, wide eyed. She fixed him with a hard, blazing look, clenching her hands into fists to disguise how much she was shaking. "Don't do that."

Dean blinked at her dazedly. He looked like someone had just jerked the ground out from beneath him. She had never seen him like this before — granted, this was their second meeting, but that Dean in the club and this Dean were so vastly different. "I — ... sorry. But ... you kissed back."

She didn't know what it was about the man but she felt as though she'd known him all her life. He felt like the answer to a prayer.

But sometimes feelings lie.

"And you wouldn't stop." she retorted heatedly, irritated, "I'm not a fucking ... therapy tool, Dean. So don't use me as one, that isn't fair."

“Fair? Using you?” Suddenly his jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "I’m not the one with a boyfriend here." He let out a short, harsh laugh. "But you come here, and you kiss me back, and now I’m using you.” Dean drawled, an undercurrent of anger thrumming beneath his words.

“You know what, I don’t have to deal with this,” Addison said. She intended to sound angry, but she couldn’t stop the way her voice came out, frail and thin.

She pushed past him and there was a two-second lull before he grabbed onto her arm and pinned her against the wall, desperate, whispering: I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Adrianne. Okay? I didn’t mean what I said. Forgive me, please, please, please.

"Dean, let me go."

"No."

"Dean."

"Adrianne."

"Please."

“Tell me you don’t feel it, too.”

As much as she didn’t want to, she felt it.

She felt it too. And she hated herself for it.

She muttered, “Dean — Julius, I, I can’t. We can't ... Derek ...,” is right out there ... except, she couldn’t get herself to say those words, so she pointed at the door instead. His lips brushed her skin stopping at her ear and murmuring, “Your precious Derek doesn’t have to know.”

She lifted her eyes then, staring at him before closing them when his nose skimmed her neck again. She didn’t want to give in — not on their anniversary of all days.

He smiled when she started to pant, his tongue licked along the column before putting his mouth near her ear again, while his hand snuck under her dress and underwear to cup her there.

“I know you feel it too.”

“I don’t thinks this is a good idea.”

"Good or bad, it won't matter.”

She still had her eyes closed, breath ragging as he started rubbing her slowly before asking her, “Open your eyes?” and when she did, the blue of her irises were completely gone.

He nibbled her neck while his hand was still laying on her sex as she spoke, voice hoarse, “No one MUST know.”

The other hand had now crept higher up under the square neckline of her dress to palm her left breast, then. “So, is it a yes?” and Addison watched his hands before sarcastically asking, “Does it look like a no to you?”

It was not long before they were practically all over each other again, her tongue down his throat, his hand snaring her hair. Dean’s mouth was hot and demanding and she parted her lips with a sigh and slipped her tongue to trace sharp teeth.

It was a strange thing, their mouths pressing, rough and also insistent. Their tongues felt like two matches striking, hot and charged. There was nothing tentative about it, no assurances or seduction needed. Dean tasted like licorice and coffee, the smells from the kitchen and soap and aftershave.

Another moan sounded in the small space between them, its owner unknown to both. Addison raked her fingers through his hair and tugged, forcing back his head and exposing his throat. She sucked wet kisses over his pulse, and swung one leg around, then the other, so she was straddling his waist.

He pulled at her hips, pressing her closer, and then his hands were forcing her mouth to his own, and they were kissing, their bodies rocking together.

All thoughts were eviscerated from her busy mind, save one. Dean, Dean, Dean.

He was kissing her and touching her and swelling against her. She could feel him, feel his hardness pressing against her as they panted, interlocked and undulating, on the wall of the blissfully empty bathroom.

They didn’t need air anymore, only lips and teeth and tongues and sweet sighs. She broke their kiss to deliberately suck a mark into his neck, grabbing the tie and shoving it out of her way. She let her teeth scrape over tender skin, and rejoiced in the helpless sound it pulled from him.

Then she slid her hand down, smoothing over black buttons and black fabric until her fingers fumbled over the black leather belt at his hips. She kissed his lips again, rough and needy, as her hand began to work the buckle.

A hand shot out to her wrist, making her gasp, and they stopped their kissing and petting long enough to meet each other’s eyes.

"The stall," he said, breaking away and she nodded.

It was awkward as they clambered in, but she was motivated to feel something, anything. She’d even be content with guilt.

"I missed you, you know. I haven't stop thinking about you since that night." he rasped, “Every time there was a knock on my door, I was hoping it'd be you.”

She didn’t want to hear that. Because she didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that she thought about it almost every day, every time she took a hit she thought of him, of seeing.

She knew where he lived.

She didn’t say anything, just pulled his vest off and started on his shirt like it was her job. Dean didn’t stop her, just squeezed her thighs, sucking at her mouth again.

"Julius or Dean? Which one is it?" she asked, one button of his shirt quickly undone with each word.

"Julius Evangelos Diamantopoulos. Dean’s an alias." he volleyed, raising one thick eyebrow. An actually Greek God. "And you said you didn't have a boyfriend."

"No," she smiled. "I never expressively said that."

“So, another technicality, then.” he hitched.

And yet she thought of Derek, waiting for her. The acidic taste of betrayal circulated in a close loop in her mind.

She moved along with it trying to make this easiest all while trying to think if this was actually the first time she had had sex in a public bathroom. It was usually a room she avoided — at all costs — but it looked like Dean was making her break another one of her rules. Not that she minded too much when Dean's fingers were digging into her hips and his mouth was covering her own. Dean is moulding their bodies together and sensation of him being everywhere almost made her ignore the fact that she was being pressed against a dirty tile wall of a public restroom. It maybe in a fancy Mechlin restaurant but a public restroom will always be a public restroom.

Hands were everywhere pulling at clothing in the search for skin, for anything. Addison felt the drags of calluses along her back, trailing down her spine and she arches closer to Dean, his breath puffing against her neck. The groan that he lets out sends a thrill all the way down to the base of her spine, and her nails dug into the fabric over his shoulders — broad and how in the hell was this man even built, Addison wondered opened mouthed right before Dean covered it with his own. She put up a mild fight for the dominance in the kiss before letting herself surrender to Dean.

“There is something wrong with this picture,” he grumbled, pulling at her panties and nearly destroying the lace before he pushes the undergarment down her legs. They didn't have time for this, Derek was going to wonder what the hell was she doing and why was she taking so long.

Her hands were now on his pants, working at the button and zipper before shoving them down over his hips. As the cool air conditioned air hits him, he’s pulled directly out of the moment to stare at her eyes, he was not even sure what color they are.

“Do you have anything?” he asked. He smiles slow.

“What, you don’t?”

His fingers were stroking along her hip as she spoke. Addison wanted to slap him in the goddamn face right then and there.

“No, I wasn't looking for a hook up.” he said, feeling disappointed, angry even, that this moment even if it was in a stupid public bathroom was going to be postponed.

All she wanted to do was have Dean fuck her, and fuck her hard. Dean leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "I'll pull out."

Great. Just the words every girl want to hear.

She went to turn round, to brace herself against the door, but he stopped her.

"No," he said, "I want to see you."

With that, she found herself being lifted up and pressed against the door. Addison scrambled to press her palms against the cool stall wall, letting out a soft breath as she felt one of Dean's hands on her hip. She already knew what’ was coming, but she still bit her lip when he pressed against her.

“Fuck,” she gasped, wishing she had something better to hold herself up against, but she’d rather be touching the door than the seat so there were little miracles there.

The grip Dean had on her hips were nearly painful and definitely bruising. When this was over, when she would go back home she knew she was going to stare at the mirror at her reflection and touch the marks. Only because it was not often that there was someone who bruises her without her demanding it happen. Dean pushed in and the burn was there, but hot on its heels was the pleasure and the want curling in her toes. She pressed her forehead against her forearm and moaned as Dean snapped his hips, pressing into her with an unrelenting speed. An aching want to be able to drag her nails against something, to press hard against a mattress and just scream his name pulled at him, but it was quickly dashed away.

Here she was, the ever-elegant Addison Montgomery moaning in a public restroom of an expensive restaurant as someone she’d really only met twice was fucking her hard and making her shiver and shake with just a want and pleasure. She moved so she could cover her mouth as the moans pour out of her and Dean was there stroking her, and snapping his hips. A low fire burned in her belly and when it hit it did not disappoint. She clenched down hard around him with a scream and a bite under his jaw.

They stayed like that for some time, Addison pressed against the door, Dean holding them both up as they panted into each other's necks. Eventually, he slipped out of her and she felt herself being set down on the floor, her knees wobbling and barely holding her weight.

She was a mess. Dean hadn't fared much better. Both of them moved slowly, cautious of how small the actual space they were inhabiting was. She watched him zip himself up before fastening his vest and leaving the stall. He came back with a roll of tissue and cleaned her up.

"Tonight's gonna be a real big night for you," he said knowingly, buckling his belt up and situating his top with a satisfied look all over his face. "So ... you're gonna need this." he then pulled out a little bag of powder, "Uncut."

At this point, she could practically feel the drug from this afternoon leaving her body.

Clearly, she had not been thinking clearly — an effect when coming off Diamonds.

Sex with Dean was reason enough for more.

She had not been able to take a hit in her own apartment before leaving because Derek was there and she was terrified he’d walk in or find out where she had hidden them or she'd get too cocky and accidentally leave them laying around in her bedroom, like she usually would when she was alone. The pleasant hum that the Diamonds created in her brain was slowly being overtaken by the incessant, infuriating scream of her own thoughts.

She made a mental note to increase her dosage.

She needed it.

Needed it, like air or water. Her body craved for it, her mind craved for it, she, the whole of her, the entirety of Addison needed it. The stimulation. The high. At any cost.

Oh, she knew she had a problem -- or was it becoming a problem?

In just two months, she was dependent on it and she didn’t need anyone’s assistance to get her there. She went there all on her because, like she said, from her first hit that night with Dean, she knew it'd be her Achille's heel for the rest of her life.

It was pure joy and why the fuck would she want to take that away from herself?

Because since then, she had been bingeing on Diamonds religiously and going out to clubs (no, never Spiders — she didn't want that possibility of running into Dean) every few nights, yet somehow she was able to get to rotations on time and focus, even later to her part-time work as a research assistant for a professor. She made new friends, a couple of undergrads from NYU -- Psychology? Art? Fashion? History?

Well, it was something unremarkably boring that she couldn't remember.

They'd call her on the telephone and tell her of the club they'd be hopping to and she'd meet them there and they didn't even have to wait in line because the bouncers would just let them through, and she'd dance for the next fourteen hours straight, drenched in sweat, biting her lips and chewing the inside of her cheeks. She would cap the night at one in the morning, sometimes two or three, and sink herself to sleep with a couple of shots of Jack and a tablet or two of Ativan. In the morning, she'd drink a few Red Bulls, make sure there was a bump in her and she was good to go.

Derek didn't know about the partying because he never got the chance to know since, you know, they didn't live in the same apartment, she wasn't going to report to him (she was her own person), he thought she was sleeping, and most of the time she partied when he had the night calls. Sometimes, she didn't care, she'd go out anyway. And when they did see each other on the weekdays, it was usually just for a few hours in his apartment. Never hers. Some weeks she wouldn't even talk to him until Sunday rolled in.

They were that busy.

Life was on her side for once. She had everything strategically planned out.

And when she was high, the world and her brain finally saw eye-to-eye and it was just a matter of how much she cared.

There was a reason why users do not buy drugs in bulk, not bulk as in kilos, but bulk to last a couple of months, like she had bought naively to last her a whole semester, which she blew through in just a couple of weeks — because the temptation was there. She knew where she had hidden them, she knew she just needed a little bit more to feel alive again, to make this happiness last a little while longer, to get things done, to drink more and she knew if she'd go out to any club she'd be able to do lines off toilets in a black-lit bathroom with some stranger. Most of the time, she didn't even have to pay for it and she'd only let them touch her while she was high and then, she'd immediately delete the experience.

It didn't matter what she was doing or what they were doing to her because at that moment everything felt so good.

When she had bought them initially, she didn’t quite need them all the time. She still had an ounce of control, then. Now, she learned that buying anything less than an eightball was useless. It would more or less last her three days if she was keeping track, two if she was having a rough day, whether be it life, medical school or Derek taking his frustrations out on her. Most users would make a gram last a couple of days while sometimes, she went through it in a day. Sometimes a sitting if she wanted to keep having a good time.

Because the feeling of her heart rate increasing, her head bursting, the extreme euphoria, the stimulation, the distraction … it far outweighed everything else. There was no boredom. There was no emptiness. There was only excitement and adrenaline and clarity and all of it was in her own mind, sparked by a simple line of powdered solution.

Now, the world moved so slowly as she moved quickly to pick up the straw. It all spun around her. Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear …

It had looked almost beautiful. The gleaming straw, the glass beneath the pure, crystalline white. And she had gritted her teeth as she pulled the straw up to her nose, lined it with the powder, because she knew she was going to vehemently regret this. And she knew she needed it, because she had nothing else.

Without Diamonds, she was nothing.

Who was she before Diamonds?

Nobody but a girl who was in medical school. Yeah, she was smart, but so was everyone else around her. She graduated Valedictorian in high school, now, she was average at best. But that was all before she started with the pills and everything else in between. Because Addy made her study better and Diamonds helped her get things done and altogether, she was once again doing good. She didn't feel like a zombie anymore.

“You gonna or what?" Dean asked, still waiting for her to take whiff.

As soon as the powder hit her nostril, she didn't even mind the burn anymore, it was like the world picked up speed and it was finally moving at the speed of her brain and she could breathe again.

Her fingers trembled; her mouth was open as she breathed heavily. Her heart was racing, racing, racing …veins full of more than just hot blood.

Her eyes, wide open. Dilated. Bloodshot. Blinking rapidly. She saw everything, everything, good glorious god, she could see absolutely every detail, make absolutely every deduction, figure everything out. Everything was hers, she owned it all. Nothing went unsolved. Nothing escaped. She was everything.

She felt tall and not just tall in stature. She was taller than everyone, taller than the world, taller than all the normal people with normal minds. And she thought normal things were little things and important things were big things, and she could only bother herself with big things.

Oh, how wrong she was.

The high washed over her as she took a deep breath, ears ringing. When her head fell back, Dean was frowning at her slightly.

"You've done this without me."

"I'm sorry." she smiled coyly.

Dean took his turn and leaned in to kiss her softly, almost reverently, before leaving the stall.

Derek didn't suspect a thing. Just asked if everything was alright because — yeah, sure, she was in the bathroom for a while. But Derek was just being Derek. He cared too much or perhaps, he cared the appropriate amount and just just couldn't seem to.

"Fine," was her reply, rubbing her nose and sniffing back before giving Derek a bright smile. She had reapplied lipstick and fixed her hair as best she could and maybe it was the Diamonds talking but she felt nothing but a blissful hum of euphoria deep within her.

And if she were to get caught tonight — honestly, she'd be vibrating with too much energy that the severity wouldn't even sink in until five hours later. Maybe, even tomorrow if she was lucky.

The short-term effects of Diamonds usually come on hard and fast and are intense, but only last for fifteen minutes to an hour.

Dean had not given her much (uncut was a lot more expensive), so even an hour would be a stretch for her.

How much difference could an hour make, though? 

She'd be home soon, so she'd have time before she would even come down.

It wouldn't kill her. No, nothing could kill her right now. She was Addison Montgomery. She was invincible. Nothing could touch her.

Derek smiled back. And she really should get an Academy Award for all of her performances. Really. She was that astonishingly good — not to toot her own horn or anything but that was just the truth.

As time went on, they smiled; they talked; they laughed while her leg bounced underneath the table.

They ate, or more like Derek ate while she tried to stuff her mouth with food. She was not hungry. She couldn't get hungry when she was high. Just could not. And so she was very focused on the task in hand — eating, because this wasn't just any other night, home alone where she could just skip a meal or all three because she didn't have an appetite. It was their anniversary and Derek was spending all this money on her. So, she focused on the New York strip steak, cutting it to bite size pieces, forked it and then, stuffed it into her mouth. She did it again. Cut the beef — was she cutting it properly? Was she holding the knife properly? She hoped she was. Bizzy would just kill her if she wasn't.

This time, though, as she sliced, she cut with a lot more force than intended to and it scratched the bottom of the plate and made a Godawful sound that caused everyone in the restaurant to turn around and look at her, and including Dean.

Why couldn't she have gotten the sea-bass? It would just melt like butter. Speaking of butter, she needed more wine and with that thought in mind, somehow, by one way or another, or magic, Dean materialised to their table, "More wine?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Derek said, then thanking Dean as he poured them another glass.

She ignored Dean. Didn't dare to look at him. Why didn't she say thank you, too? Why did she ignore him? Ignoring him would bring more suspicions than not. Why was she questioning her actions? Maybe she was in the wrong? Why was she doubting herself? She did not but Derek didn't seem to notice anything.

He talked and she talked, hoping she wasn't talking too fast. Diamonds could do that to you. Was she talking too fast? Could she hear herself? ... She was a mess. She wondered what the new steakhouse across her street was like. It was probably better than her cooking. Could she even cook? She missed her dog. He was a good pet. Or was he a girl? Couldn't remember. Where were her glasses? She looked in her purse for a second. Nope. She probably have left it in her bedroom.

The pianist was playing a song that sang to her and she swayed to the tune of it; she was having an incredible night with Derek, dancing with need and energy. And that was only until the powder fully dissolved into her veins, and she started to feel her nerves singing back to her. It was a transition like a flick of a switch and her brain told her that she needed more. More. More. More. More. She rested her elbow on the table, head on her palm — she was dizzy and irritated and her nerves were on fire with the need for more Diamonds. All she could think of was flagging down Dean so he could help her because he'd be feeling the same way too. But he was much bigger than her so the drugs would have worn off long before hers did. He must have done another line by now.

She looked around, Dean was nowhere in sight and that almost made her blood boil — just almost.

How long had it been?

An hour. It's been an hour. They've been here an hour. Obviously. Look at the clock. Don't be stupid.

It wore off. The brilliance, the beauty, the clarity. It all wore off. Everything was suddenly so boring and stupid and obvious now. Her blood was pure red, the Diamonds were crystallised powder. She had nothing left now, she had nothing now.

Who was she?

Go ahead. Take some more. Why not? She couldn't die. She was invincible, she was immortal. She was not human. She was not God. She didn't know what she was, but she didn't care. All she wanted was some more of it, some more of what she needed. Because she would do anything to stop that feeling of sadness from creeping in. To escape her mind. Nobody knew what it was like in there. Nobody could understand.

Because whenever she felt good she thinks it will last forever. But it's never like that.

Users with Diamonds dependence may experience a "crash" after this short fifteen minute-one hour period, commonly a feeling of severe depression. This may prompt the use of either alcohol, similar drugs (such as Black Pearl or Chalk), or repeated Diamonds use.

She looked in her bag. She did not bring it. She didn't bring it! Fuck! Maybe if she just find Dean and get some from Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean ...where was he? The man was going to save her life again.

"Are you okay?”

“What?” That was the second time Derek had asked that tonight. It was just weird. Did she not look okay? Was she trying too hard to act normal? Was she blinking too much?

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, w-why wouldn’t I be?” she started fixing her dress just in case, “Do I not look okay?”

“You’ve been acting weird all night. Is something going on?" he asked before adding, "Are you looking for someone?”

That was when panic started to set in. Think of something. Think of an excuse. Don't lie. Just tell the truth, misleadingly. Her hands were sweaty again. Her mind raced while she tried to think and translate her thoughts into words. “Yeah — no, just the waiter. I need more wine. Everything’s fine, Derek. I'm having a wonderful time. Just a little tired. Nothing I can't handle.”

Not exactly a lie.

Derek stared back at her with narrowed eyes. It made her uncomfortable, like he could see past the twisted truth and into her soul and see what had happened in the restroom, and the clubs, and the drugs, but that was stupid. He wasn't psychic. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

She put on a smirk only because she felt like that was what the old her would’ve done last year or even just last semester, “I think you’d know if I was lying.”

His eyes roll, but he was smiling. “I would, but as long as you’re okay … dessert?”

Thank God that worked, she sighed a sigh of relief, then.

Towards the end of the night, as she got increasingly aware of the further change in her mood, she begun to wonder if Derek was still onto her. Did he know? He had to — she couldn't shut her mouth just fifteen minutes ago and now, she was as quiet as a mouse. Did everyone here know? As the sweat crept up her neck, she gulped down every last drop of Derek's wine, that he'd given her, and that still was not enough.

And because of the fog in her brain, she didn't realise that the pianist had been playing their song and it was only when Derek got on one knee that she did.

"Did you — did you drop something, Derek? What are you looking for —" she stopped mid sentence — no, no, no —freezing when she finally put two and two together, and saw what he had in his hand. "Derek —" she whispered, eyes bulging right out of her sockets as the diamond winked at her, "Derek, what, what are you doing?"

"Addison Adrianne Forbes Montgomery ..." he started.

This was what Dean was talking about — the big night for her. She found herself searching for his face in the sea of people staring at them. Dean knew, which meant that Derek had had this planned out all this time. And here she was, ruining it for him.

"The moment I saw you for the very first time will always be stuck in my memory because it was the day when the course of my life radically changed its direction ..."

She remembered that day, remembered meeting — rather, bumping into him in the campus library. He was so shy, she could tell, and now, she felt a sob perched at the back of her throat.

"I once read, 'Happiness is only real when shared.' I didn’t understand the depth of that statement until I met you, Addie, because you are the perfect person for me. You love to go where life takes you and I’m so grateful that life brought you to me, because I know that no matter what our future brings, we will have each other ..."

That was when her brain decided to attack her with memories, real and very real ones until she was crying. She pressed fingers to her eyes to make them stop and she gnawed at the insides of her cheeks. She was positively livid at herself for having strayed off so far away.

It was all her fault, she did this to herself.

She stayed silent, with her head hanging low again, while the tears continued to run down her cheeks. Some drops emerged and dripped from her nose. She sniffled again.

She couldn't bear to look at Derek.

"I am looking forward to the day when my last name will become ours. You are the one I want to be for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer. My voice is trembling, and my heart is beating right out of my chest -- I hope you will say me yes and make me the luckiest man on Earth. I love you so much, darling. Will you marry me?"

Her gaze finally found Dean's — he looked her, bored, and were it not for the strange wildness in his eyes.

She said yes -- of course, she did. She looked at Derek, wide-eyed, wiping the tears away and replied like they did in the movies, “Yes! Yes, I will marry you."

"I love you," Derek said, slipping the ring onto her finger as he began to laugh.

She joined him in laughter while the crowd's cheers drowned out behind her, “I love you, too."

Derek continued to laugh and nodded, his eyes beginning to form tears as he kissed her.

She broke the kiss and looked at Derek, taking his hand and whispered, "We're getting married," and guilt of the both times finally kicked in.

She could not say no, she told herself, not after tonight, not after that speech, not after everyone was expecting her to say yes. The pressure. She couldn't humiliate Derek like that. Not in front of all these people. No would equals to losing him forever.

Because to say no was to come clean with all that she had done and she did not want that. She did not want to let go. What she wanted was more Diamonds, a girl's best friend — it was all her mind could think about, still and as she glanced over at where Dean had been, maybe he could help her again, he was gone.