Before We Were

17. Lads Day Out

CHAPTER 17

LADS DAY OUT

NATE

Six days clean. Yeah, I'm counting.

Ever since that night at the beach I haven't touched a single drug. Not one. It’s the longest I’ve been sober in… fuck. I don’t even know.

The withdrawal was a special kind of hell—sweating through sheets, puking my guts out when no one was looking, hiding the shakes. But something about her eyes that night, wide with fear and disappointment, hit harder than any comedown.

This morning feels different though—there's a whisper of something I'd almost forgotten: hope.

My mind has been a war zone for as long as I can remember. Thoughts aren't just thoughts when they've haunted you long enough. They transform into nooses—fashioned from your own memories, woven tight with regret. They dangle in the corners of your mind, patient, always waiting for those quiet moments when you think you might be free. Then they tighten, one by one, choking out any hope of silence.

That's the thing about the noise in your head—it's not just sound. It's a physical thing, wrapped around your throat, your chest, your future. Doesn't matter how many times you've heard the accusations, felt the shame. The rope just gets stronger with every loop of the same old shit.

That's why I started popping pills in the first place. One hit and bam—blessed fucking silence.

No more voices.

No more replaying every single screwup in surround sound.

Just... nothing.

But nothing isn't living.

And Nora's face that night—Christ, I can't shake it. The way she backed away from me, like I was some stranger she'd never seen before. Like everything between us had been a lie. And maybe it had been. Maybe I'd been lying to both of us about who I really am.

So six days.

One day at a time.

The cravings still hit like a freight train sometimes, especially when the noise gets too loud. But I'm holding on. By my fingernails some days, but I'm holding.

One step, then another, then another.

Even when your mind's screaming at you to just lie down and fucking quit.

I toss off the covers and swing my legs out of bed, muscles protesting as I stretch. By the time I'm downstairs, Ollie's voice booms through the house, yanking me firmly into the present.

"Nate! Jake!" His shout cuts through any remaining fog. "Get your asses downstairs. We're leaving in ten!”

I pull on a fresh t-shirt, the fabric still warm from the dryer, and jog down to meet them. Today's about starting fresh—just skating, surfing, being the kids we used to be. The simplicity of it feels exactly like the cleanse I need. No drama, no heavy shit, just the open road and waves. Ollie's already in the kitchen, his broad frame taking up too much space as he slings a protein bar my way.

"About fucking time," he jokes, eyes crinkling at the corners. I catch the bar mid-air but drop it on the counter.

“You need it. You're looking a bit outta shape there, Natey boy." There’s a familiar smirk playing on his face.

I roll my eyes but can't help laughing. We both know I still have the physical edge on him. Jake stumbles in, hair a mess, barely awake, but the energy in the room instantly lifts him.

"Lads day out, just like old times," Ollie declares, tossing another protein bar at Jake.

Just like old times.

The car buzzes with the old thrill of anticipation as we pile in, the leather seats still cool from the morning air. Jake takes the wheel while Ollie lounges in the passenger seat. It doesn’t take long for Ollie to break the silence.

"Sooo, Mia,” he teases. “Thoughts?”

I scoff, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't take you long, did it?"

He tries to shrug it off, but I catch the flush creeping up his neck. Jake chimes in from the driver's seat, "I saw those looks you were giving her. All puppy dog eyes and shit."

“Well you haven’t met her. She's not just cute," Ollie admits, his voice softening. "She's off the charts. Fun, smart, beautiful. How many girls can you say tick all those boxes in one hit?”

I can think of only one.

"You're whipped, my guy," Jake adds, grinning at our friend.

Ollie's laughter fills the car, but there's a vulnerability in it I rarely hear. “I think I like her. A lot. She's different, you know? Not like the usual crowd."

I nod, understanding exactly what he means. Even though I haven't met her, I trust Ollie's judgment—he's always had a knack for seeing through people's facades.

“Well man, she sounds like a winner then," I say, clapping his shoulder from the backseat.

His expression shifts, becoming more serious as he turns to me. "What's up with Farrah, Nate?"

The mention of her name tightens something in my chest. My situation with Farrah is nothing but complicated—a tangled mess I'm not ready to unravel. "Nothing," I reply, the word coming out too quick, too defensive.

Ollie's gaze sharpens. "Nothing as in nothing's new, or nothing as in you two are nothing?"

Jake's trying to contain his laughter now, the car vibrating with his suppressed chuckles.

I exhale, long and heavy. "It's nothing serious. We're just... you know."

"A fling that's lasted over two summers?" Jake's voice drips with skepticism.

"She knows it's nothing serious," I insist, the words sounding hollow even to me. "It ends when summer does."

"Sure," Jake drawls, his knowing grin reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Shut up, Jake," I mutter, but there's no real heat behind it.

Ollie raises his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, man, no judgment here."

It's not their judgment I care about, anyway.

We reach the beach, and it's like stepping into a memory. The boardwalk stretches before us, less crowded than usual, giving us the freedom we crave. We skate along, morning sun warming our backs, the rhythmic crash of waves providing a constant backdrop to our laughter.

The ocean welcomes us with its brisk chill. I strap my board to my ankle, muscle memory taking over as I paddle out. For a while, everything else fades—just sun, surf, and the pure freedom of being on the water. Time stretches and compresses all at once, reality narrowing to this single perfect moment.

Exhausted from the morning's exertions, we eventually slow down, lounging on our boards, trading jokes and stories. It's in these moments, simple and unguarded, that I realize what I've missed most—just being with my brother and best friend, no drama, no tension. Just us, the ocean, and the endless sky above.

It's a rare kind of peace, and for now, it's enough.

As the sun climbs higher and the crowd swells, I feel the pull to stay until sunset, but I promised Jay I'd catch up with him. Reluctantly, I agree it's time to pack it in.

"I'm starving," Ollie announces, breaking through my thoughts.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "And you're telling me this because...?"

"I need you to feed me," he says, deadpan.

Jake snorts, and I shake my head, chuckling. "Are you ever not hungry?"

"You calling me fat?" Ollie shoots back, his mock scowl barely hiding his grin.

"You're an idiot," I retort.

"A hungry idiot. Seriously, what's the plan for food?" He rubs his stomach theatrically.

After loading the boards into the car and watching Jake head off to rinse, Ollie and I linger by the trunk. I've been holding back all morning, but there's one thing—one person—gnawing at me. I've been avoiding her since that night by the pool, but I can't shake the persistent sadness I saw in her eyes.

"Hey, uh, your sister," I start, the words catching in my throat like fishhooks. "Is she... is she doing okay? After the other night at the party?" The memory of her expression haunts me—there was something in it beyond typical grief, something that set off warning bells I couldn't ignore.

Ollie doesn't seem surprised by my question. "You know Nora. Resilient as hell but stubborn to a fault. She seems fine though."

"How has she been since... since your dad passed? I mean, really been?" The guilt of my absence weighs heavy in my words.

His face clouds over.

"She was the one who found him. And by the time Mom and I got home..." he trails off. "It's like she was there, but not really. She suffered in silence and didn't talk to anyone about any of it. Mom and I tried our asses off. And then those fucking friends of hers at school just dropped her like she was nothing when she needed them most."

My throat tightens and my heart aches at the thought of anyone hurting someone like Nora.

"I'm sorry," I admit, voice low. "I should have been there. For you, for her."

Ollie looks at me, his expression softer than I deserve.

"I won't lie. It sucked not having you around, man. You're one of my best friends, and Nora—she had Jake, but I know she missed you too." He claps me on the shoulder. "But I get it, you had your own hell to deal with. Life's too fucking short to hold grudges against the people you care about. So, I forgive you." A half-smile crosses his face. "Just don't miss my birthday or you're really dead to me."

I laugh, as he pulls me into a quick hug. The forgiveness lifts a weight I didn't realize I'd been carrying, but my mind keeps circling back to Nora, to those shadows in her eyes.

Jake reappears, breaking our moment.

"We gonna chat all day, or are we gonna eat?"

My phone buzzes again—Jay's fifth call today.

"You guys go ahead," I say, forcing a smile. "I need to handle something. I'll catch up later."

Ollie gives me a long look but nods.

"All right, man. Hit us up when you're free."

It takes Jay fifteen minutes to meet me in an empty parking lot. He steps out of his Camaro, cigarette smoke curling from his lips, anxiety radiating off him.

"Nate, where the fuck have you been?"

"I was with my brother." I shrug, avoiding eye contact. "What's up?"

"What's up is that Monty has been on my fucking ass about you." He leans in, lowering his voice. "They want their money."

"I told you, I'll get it," I say, keeping my voice hard while clenching my jaw.

"It's not just that." He runs a hand through his hair, glancing over his shoulder. "I think Monty knows who you are, who your family is. They're going to ask for more. Way more."

Fuck my life.

"I'll get their money," I grit out, nostrils flaring. "Then I'm done with this shit. For good."

Jay looks skeptical but nods, exhaling slowly. "Fine. I’ll try hold him off a couple of days. But for real,” he grabs my shoulder, "be careful. These guys don't fuck around. I’m being dead ass serious."

"I know," I mutter, shaking off his grip. "Can you give me a lift home?"

I haven't even sat in the car when Farrah calls.

This day keeps getting better and fucking better.

I pick up the phone like ripping off a bandage.

"What?" I snap, slamming the car door shut.

"Where have you been?" Farrah's voice cuts like glass. "You've been avoiding my calls all day." I can practically hear her pacing.

"What do you want, Farrah?" I pinch the bridge of my nose, catching Jay rolling his eyes in the driver's seat.

"Are you coming to the carnival tonight?" Her tone shifts to something almost hopeful.

"No." I stare out the window, watching the streets blur by.

A heavy pause. "Why not?" Her voice tightens.

"Because." I tap my fingers against my knee, agitated.

"You're unbelievable," she hisses. "Two weeks ago, you were all over me and now?”

I lean my head back against the seat, "I don't think this arrangement is working out anymore."

"Are you breaking up with me over the phone?" Her voice cracks slightly.

"Farrah, listen—" I start, rubbing my temples.

"No. Fuck you, Nate."

The line goes dead.

"That girl is batshit crazy. I don’t know why the fuck you’re putting up with her still.” Jay says, shooting me a sideways glance as he turns the corner.

The honest answer is, I have no fucking clue either. I just toss my phone onto the dashboard and sink deeper into the seat.

I’m home for less than two minutes before I grab my keys and head out. The road stretches out before me, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the fading afternoon light. Time passes and each song ticks over into the next one before I realise I’ve been driving aimlessly. My mind a tangled fucking mess of thoughts about the way one girl seems to be haunting every corner of my consciousness, even when I'm trying to escape her.

Cary Brothers' "Ride" plays softly, its melancholic melody a perfect soundtrack to my current state of mind. The irony isn't lost on me—the song's themes of longing and uncertainty mirroring my own internal chaos. I'm not even sure why I'm driving, only that movement feels like the only way to quiet the noise in my head.

And then—because life has a cruel sense of fucked up humor—there she is.

Nora, walking alongside her bike, looking both determined and vulnerable. The universe seems to be laughing, dropping her directly into my path when I'm least prepared to handle it.

I pull up beside her, rolling down the window. "What are you doing?"

She yanks out her earphones, startled. "Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me, Nate.” Her eyes narrow. "What are you doing here?"

"I was heading home. Get in."

"No, thanks. I'm good."

"Nora, just get in the car."

"I don't need a ride. I've got my bike."

I get out of the car.

"I'm not letting you walk home alone. Just toss the bike in the back."

"Thanks, but no." She starts walking, chin lifted.

"Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

She whirls to face me. "I'm not the one making things difficult. You're the one who refuses to listen when I say I'm fine walking."

"What's your problem?"

"My problem?" She laughs sharply. "You, Nate. You're my problem. This hot and cold game you play is getting old." She steps closer, lavender and vanilla filling the space between us. "I'm fine on my own. I don't need you saving me every five seconds, okay?"

"You're right." The words come out softer than intended. "You don't need anyone saving you. But that doesn't mean I can't look out for you. Please, just let me drive you home."

She holds my gaze for a moment before walking toward the car, bike in tow.

My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as we drive. Nora's voice cuts through the silence, sharp with frustration.

"So why?"

"Why what?"

"Why have you been acting like a royal jackass and ignoring me?"

"I haven't been ignoring you."

"Yes, you have." She turns in her seat, eyes searching my face. "One minute we're fine, and the next, it's like I don't exist. What gives?"

Rays of dying sunlight flash across her face. She looks—I don't know—unreal. Untouchable. Fractured in that way that makes you want to look and not look at the same time. "It's not you."

"Then what is it? Because I'm sick of tip-toeing around you. It's fucking annoying."

The curse catches me off guard—Nora never swears. "I've just got... a lot on my plate right now. It's not about you." But that's a lie so big it could choke me.

It has everything to do with her.

With how close I am to imploding when I’m near her yet how natural it felt to have her in my arms the other night. And how fucking terrifying it is to want something—someone—this much when everything in my life is a house of cards waiting to collapse.

Nora shifts, folding her arms as she stares out the windshield. "Welcome to life, Nate. We've all got shit going on that other people don't know about."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I look over and catch the flash of regret across her face, like she's said too much, revealing a card she wasn't ready to play.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Her voice drops, soft and wounded. "I just... I feel like I've done something to make you this mad at me. Have I?" She asks, and fuck if those words don't sound like every sad playlist I've ever hate-listened to.

"No," I say, which is basically a lie wrapped in bullshit.

You just exist in a world where I can't have you and it's slowly killing me.

I mean, how do you tell someone: you're everywhere and nowhere, and I'm losing my mind trying to figure out which hurts more?

"Listen, you didn't do anything wrong," I rush to reassure her, guilt gnawing at my insides like acid. "It's just… everything's been a mess lately, and I'm trying to sort myself out. I shouldn't have been so hot and cold with you, okay? I'm sorry."

She sighs, the sound heavy with everything we're not saying. "I just wish you'd talk to me. I thought we were better than this." Her expression softens. "Is it even possible for things to go back to the way they were before?"

I meet her eyes, finding my own longing reflected back. "I don't know."

"Can we try?" she says quietly.

"We can try,” I reply, not knowing if either of us believe me right now.

The rest of the drive is quieter, but it's different now—less like a weapon and more like a truce.

We pull into her driveway, and she pauses before getting out. "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime," I reply, watching her walk away.

The stark realization I'm having right now is that for her, I'd try anything. Even if it means facing all the shit I've been running from.