There’s Wild, Then There’s You (The Wild Ones #3)(7)
Author: M. Leighton

I keep a casual eye on the door, waiting for Violet, Sex Addict to appear. I glance at the wall clock again. Three minutes until the meeting starts. Maybe she isn’t going to show. Being in her position, having conquered her desires, she might not need regular support. But, as cruel as it sounds, I hope she does. At least enough to bring her back in here tonight.

NINE: Violet

“I don’t know how I get myself into these messes,” I mumble as I lead Tia through the door and into the stuffy SAA meeting room.

“You’re not in a mess, Vi. You’re at a meeting with your best friend as a show of support. We’re both doing this for the people we love. End of story. Neither of us needs to be here, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fit in. Just relax. The hard part’s over for you.”

I ignore Tia’s comment about not needing to be here. Little does she know, but she very much needs to be here. “Tia, these people think I’m a long-standing sex addict who has somehow managed to kick my addiction. Trust me, the hard part is far from over. What if they ask me questions?” I hiss.

“Lie.”

“I’m a terrible liar! You know that!”

Tia pulls on my arm to stop me before we are surrounded by too many ears. “Look, you’ve worked with all sorts of twisted people. Just channel some of that emotional shit you get to hear every day and you’ll be fine. It’s me you should be worried about anyway.”

I say nothing. I am actually worried about Tia. I’m afraid that nothing will make her see what’s really going on. I’m afraid that her denial will prevent her from seeing how much she has in common with these people, and that she’ll live the rest of her life missing out on the important things if she doesn’t learn to control herself. If she can’t ever see her weaknesses, she won’t ever be able to overcome them.

Whoever said admitting you have a problem is the first step was a friggin’ genius!

Before I can formulate an appropriate response, Lyle, the meeting coordinator, takes the podium.

“Welcome, everyone. Can you please take your seats?”

As Tia and I are making our way to two empty chairs on the back row, I look up and my eyes collide with warm blue ones. My gait falters as we stare at each other. He nods once and then looks away.

I purposely keep my eyes trained straight ahead until we are seated. Tia leans over and whispers in my ear, “Holy Mary mother of God, you weren’t kidding about hot guys, were you?”

I shush her and tip my head toward the front of the room, hoping she’ll drop it and pay attention like she needs to.

No such luck.

“Do you know him, Vi? Did you meet him last week? Who is he?”

“No, I don’t know him. I met him briefly last week. His name is Jet. Now zip it and pay attention,” I say with mock severity. Even if I did want to talk to her about Jet, which I don’t, I don’t want to talk about it now. Not only is that rude, but the last thing I need to do is draw attention to myself.

As he did last week, Lyle asks if there is anyone that’s new to this particular meeting. Two people raise their hands. Evidently there’s a never-ending supply of sex addicts. Lyle welcomes them and then moves through a brief explanation of the SAA philosophy, which is based on the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-Step program.

I try to listen, but I can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying for long. I find myself watching Jet from the corner of my eye. I can just make him out between two people if they both shift the right way. I see his head move several times as though he might be turning to look at me, but I can’t be sure. And I won’t be sure either. I can’t risk looking directly at him and getting caught. Instead, I stare straight ahead like I’m deeply interested in what’s going on at the front of the room.

Eventually, we make it through to the part where everyone stands up and says their little piece. Some have a longer, more in depth story to tell, which terrifies me. I don’t want anyone to ask me for my story. Because, you know, I don’t have one.

My anxiety rises the closer it gets to being my turn. Tia is to my left, which means that she goes first, though. Leave it to her to make it worse and give me something else to freak out about.

She stands after the person to her left sits back down. I can tell by her posturing that she’s treating this like her time in the spotlight rather than the humiliating experience that it is. She smooths her tight jeans and gives everyone a beaming smile. Internally, I shake my head. The least she could do is pretend she’s here for help. As it is, flipping her hair and pulling her shirt down tight, she looks like the only thing she’s trying to do is make a good showing for the masculine population in the room.

Taking a deep breath, Tia puffs out her already-ample chest and begins in her charming way. “Hi, my name is Tia, and I’m a sex addict. Ummm, I never really saw that I had a problem until I met this wonderful woman.” She pauses to cast an amazingly convincing smile of gratitude down upon me. “She has helped me so much. If it weren’t for Violet, I’d still be living in my old ways. It’s through her strength and with her support that I’m here tonight.”

Well, at least that part’s true, I think to myself as I struggle to keep the cringe off my face. Meanwhile, Tia is eating up having a roomful of eyes trained on her. She really should’ve been an actress. She’s already got the self-control issues and the narcissism down pat.

She bends down and kisses my cheek then turns to give the audience a tearful smile. All that’s missing is for her to take a bow. They clap for her as she takes her seat, and then all eyes turn toward me.

I stand, a blush stinging my cheeks as I do. I glance around the room, determined to casually skim over Jet. But when my eyes meet his, they stop, refusing to go any further. He’s watching me, his gaze intense. I feel a warm flush pour through me, despite the cool temperature of the room, and I squirm uncomfortably.

I waste valuable time chastising myself, arguing that I should not be getting any kind of warm fuzzies over a guy in a place like this, one who has a problem like the one he’s got. He’s trouble that I don’t need. He’s a kind of broken that I can’t fix.

“Violet, why don’t you tell us a little bit about your journey,” Lyle suggests when my silence drags on too long.

My mind spins in a panic and I feel my heartbeat as though it’s hammering right behind my eyes. “I’d love to, Lyle, but I’d like tonight to be about my friend Tia, if you don’t mind. She’s heard my story a thousand times, and I’d rather this be the beginning of her own journey.”