The Love Interest

Chapter 9

Hand cuffs are a solution to many problems. This wasn't one of them.

It's one a.m on a Saturday morning, and my right wrist is confined in a silver cuff that was bought from a provocative side street store- which very well could've been a Hollywood version of Spencer's. It wasn't until the metal thing had completely clasped around my wrist that I had realized what was happening, but the why part still hasn't seemed to process.

"Eden, what the hell?" I look up at him dubiously after he takes the other cuff, and locks it around his wrist without any forethought. The store we had bought them from had just closed, and we were in a dimly lit alleyway on the way to my apartment.

Even Eden himself didn't seem to know what he was doing, nor did he plan on talking about it until I raise my voice a little, and ask him again. "Handcuffs? Are you serious right now?"

His chest rises and falls in angst, and when he looks up at me, he looks a little dazed and disconcerted. Like he was trying to keep his mind off something. "I'm sorry, I-," he inhales a sharp breath, "I have to do it or else I'm going to lie to you, tell you that I'll be fine by myself, then I'll bribe a drug dealer and-"

"So you...handcuffed us together?" I reiterate, my eyes still widely open, my mouth agape.

"You don't understand." He says a bit deeper. "If I'm not handcuffed to you, I'll figure out a way to relapse and I-I can't..." he doesn't finish his sentence, and I don't blame him. We're in a city where the air is polluted with intoxicants, and considering he's freshly out of rehab, his willpower isn't as strong as I thought it would be.

I could see a vein pulsing in his neck, and his eyes couldn't keep still. He was looking everywhere with eyes filled with hunger and desperation. He couldn't possibly expect to find drugs openly lying around, now could he? He looks back at me with apprehensive eyes, but the fresh new smell of a joint around the corner could very well be the reason he'd acted so impulsively.

My anger dissipates once I discern that there wasn't anything morally wrong about his action (other than the fact that I might have to hold my pee until we're both uncuffed). As anyone would've done when they're scared to go back into old habits, they bind themselves to something that will make sure they never do. I guess I am that chosen 'something.'

"It's...it's fine." I affirm after a few moments, and he finally steadies his eyes to mine. I would've tried to step away, but there's only so much room that these cuffs will allow between us.

"No," he shakes his head vigorously with regret, "no, it's not. Damn it- I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable after what happened to you tonight-"

"Eden, it's fine."

"Fuck- no, I should be able to handle myself." He anxiously teeters around with the pockets of his jeans. Then, he tries for his leather jacket, tugging the pockets outwards until he's sure they're completely empty. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-"

"You..." I pause, eyeing him up and down only to remember that there was only one thing that could've gotten us out of this mess, "you don't happen to have the- uh...the key? Right?"

He's begins pacing around outside the shop we were just in, forgetting that I was cuffed to him, and dragging me along. I stumble forward a little, wincing in surprise at the suddenness of his movements as he travels along without noticing I'm being tugged behind him.

"Where the fuck is that key-?" It's only when he halts abruptly, causing my chest to clash with his broad back, that he finally realizes that he's been practically dragging me around. "Oh shit- sorry, I forgot you were...I-"

"Hey, Eden?"

"Fuck, this is a disaster-"

"Eden?"