"Will you stay?" I asked quickly. "While I go to sleep?"

"Yeah, flower," Asher replied in a soft voice. "Sleep," he commanded.

And with my hand cradling the phone, curled on the sofa, Asher silent at the other end, I did just that.

One Week Later "Do you know where we are?" I mumbled up at the stars. My gaze moved to the outdoor patio area to my left which had a lot of people milling around, drinking, dancing, laughing. I didn't know a soul, apart from the person lying beside me.

Bex didn't move her gaze from the sky. "At a party," she replied dreamily.

I turned my head, regarding her profile. "But whose party?" I probed, the details lost in my muddled head.

I watched one of her brows furrow. "Jack's, or Jason's or Sylvia's. Fuck if I know," she replied casually.

Usual Lily, sober Lily, would have most likely freaked out about this, or gone into a mild panic attack, but this was not sober Lily. I had discovered the beauty of alcohol and what it did to my shyness, my emotions. Numbed them, kept the big sadness at bay. It was awesome. A phone ringing jolted me out of my drunken, yet calm reverie. It stopped then started again. It was coming from somewhere nearby. I moved my head.

"That's your phone, Bex," I pointed out.

She acted like she hadn't heard me, then jumped abruptly. "Shit," she muttered. "Yo," she called into the phone.

There was a pause.

"Oh fuck, sorry, I completely blanked. I'll be there in," she glanced down at her watchless hand, "about twenty minutes?" She finished, the question in her voice most likely due to the fact that she had no idea where we were.

She sat up after she hung up and glanced over at me with a vacant gaze. "We've gotta bounce, babe," she instructed.

I squinted at her. "What? Why?"

I was quite happy in my current position, watching the sky, listening to the sounds of strangers having a good time, pretending that I was someone else.

She yanked on my arm and I reluctantly moved.

"Because," she said, standing. "I was meant to be at work, like an hour ago. And I need my job 'cause I need to eat and more importantly, buy booze," she told me.

I sighed and struggled to my feet, swaying slightly as I got accustomed to being vertical. Another ringing added to the sounds of the night. I looked at Bex. Her boss must really be pissed. She didn't move and stared at me.

"Lilmeister, that's yours," she informed me with a grin.

"Oh, right," I muttered, rifling through my bag.

Because I was flustered and drunk, I didn't even look at the number, which I would have screened at this moment, had I been a smidgeon more sober. Alas, I wasn't, and I didn't understand the logistical nightmare of chatting to my protective, whatever he was, while navigating a crowded party, severely wasted.

"Lo," I slurred as Bex dragged me inside, through the party.

"Lily," a voice greeted softly.

"Asher," I half squealed in excitement. He hadn't called as was per usual tonight, and I had missed him. "I thought you'd forgotten about me," I declared, alcohol taking away my filter. And sense of self-preservation apparently. Letting him know just how attached I was to our phone calls would not have been sober Lily's preference.

"I could never forget about you, flower," Asher replied, his voice soft.

"Good," I yelled over the music that was getting louder as we walked into the dance area of the party.

I giggled slightly and was pushed against various bodies as Bex pushed us through the crowd.

"Where are you?" Asher's voice turned hard.

"Umm...." I hedged, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. "That's a mighty good question," I giggled again.

I felt a pinch on my behind.

I tugged on Bex's arm. "Oh my gosh, that guy just squeezed my ass," I whisper yelled at her, not realizing I was speaking into the phone.

Bex narrowed her eyes and glared into the crowd before yanking us again.

"What the fuck? What did you just say?" Asher yelled into the phone. "Lily, tell me where you are, right now," he commanded.

I took a deep breath as we emerged out the front door and I squinted at the unfamiliar street in what I deduced was a reasonably nice neighborhood.

"Who the heck do we know to get us ending up here?" I asked Bex in confusion. I said "we," but I meant her. I hardly knew anyone well enough to get invited to any parties, let alone one in this area.

She shrugged her shoulders, with her eyes on her phone. "Fuck knows, Uber's on its way now, though," she muttered, rubbing her bare arms even though there was no chill in the air.

"Lily," a firm voice clipped in my ear.

"Oh right, on the phone," I muttered to myself.

"You're drunk," Asher stated.

"Affirmative on that Captain Jack," I replied breezily. I hadn't educated Asher on my new lifestyle, he always called early afternoon, before the drinking could commence. There was a reason for that, me not telling him, I mused. I couldn't think of it at this moment, it didn't seem important.

"Please tell me that's not doucheface," Bex cut in, nodding at the phone.

"Don't call him doucheface," I snapped at her. "It's not him," I added, giving her reason to smile. Aiden had been absent from our lives for over a week, much to Bex's delight.

"Lily," Asher demanded softly but firmly.

I sighed. My head hurt from the difficulty of having two conversations.

"Tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you," he declared.

"I don't know where I am, Asher," I repeated impatiently. "That's the point, we've got an Uber-" My explanation was cut short when the phone was ripped out of my hands.

"If this is the Asher I've heard about, we're going to Mermaids in Tasman Springs, bring your biker buddies," Bex ordered into the phone before hanging up.

I gaped at her.

"I can't believe you just did that."

She shrugged, grinning mischievously. "I want to meet this guy. Properly. One heated conversation on our doorstep three years ago is not sufficient. Plus, I've got a terrible memory, it may or may not have something to do with alcohol. I need to see the Asher you've been running off to have whispered phone calls with for the past week. Over a week, dude. It's about time you guys talked face to face, and did other things face to face." She waggled her eyebrows. "Plus, I need to figure out if he's good enough for my friend. We don't need another doucheface. It all depends on results of the test," she explained.

I frowned at her. "Test?" I repeated.

She nodded. "Only time will tell. A lot of it rides on how well his hotness has held up over the years. And how hot his friends are."

I sighed and decided to relent.

I couldn't lie and say I didn't want to see him. In my week long bender, I hadn't thought of much, I'd made a conscious effort to think of nothing. Apart from the times he'd called, I gave myself the luxury, to let his voice wrap around me, let our conversations take me away from it all. I tried not to think about him in the moments we weren't speaking, but Asher's face, his touch, the way he made me feel, that all crept into my dreams.

"Come on, you know you want to," Bex whined.

I gazed up at her. She was slightly drunk, but she still looked kick ass. Her emergency hair and makeup procedures to get stage ready were rather impressive. Her inky hair was tumbled into messy ringlets around her face, false eyelashes were expertly applied, and her trademark heavy cat eye was sharp and fierce. Since her particular job description required her to take her clothes off for men, she was wearing a skimpy skirt, fishnets with a visible garter belt, and combat boots. Yeah, no stripper heels for this girl. The punters loved it apparently.

"Um. No," I told her and Adam, the bartender who was smirking at me.

"You'll be totally great, it's like a double act," she persuaded. "I know you're a good singer, I've heard you in the shower," she winked. "Plus, you're hot as balls."

I snorted. "Yeah, right."

She was my friend of course she'd say that. And she was drunk. And trying to get me up on stage. Of a strip club.

Though I would admit that I didn't look like myself, hadn't for the past week. I'd embraced my inner wild child, or more accurately let my wild child best friend have control over my outfits, hair, and makeup. I was wearing the shortest shorts I'd ever been clothed in, with a sheer top tucked in, a lace bralette visible underneath. The sky-high heels I was wearing were the only part of the outfit that was mine. She'd teased my long blonde hair and stuffed it into a messy ponytail. My makeup was intense. Like I could barely recognize the intense smoky-eyed, contoured girl in front of me. That was good, though. Being someone else. It was the only way to escape the big sad. I'd decided to adopt this new persona. Though I was drawing the line at singing to my friend's stripping routine. I didn't judge her, not for a moment, but I knew there was no way I was going to be able to do that without vomiting.

"Adam," Bex's voice snapped my attention back to the present moment. I took a sip of my vodka, such intense thought needed alcohol to discourage it.

"Do you or do you not think that Lily is the sexiest bitch you've ever laid your baby blue's on?" It was a question, but the way her eyes were narrowed I could tell she would only accept one answer.

I swatted her shoulder. "Bex," I scolded.

I turned to Adam, who was staring at me with a small grin on his face.

"You don't have to-"

"I work in a strip club. It means I see a lot of lookers," he began, leaning against the bar. "It's the God's honest truth you are the sexiest gal I've ever laid eyes on," he continued with a wink, his southern twang sharp.

I gaped at him. "Really?"

His smile got bigger. "Really darlin'," he said firmly. He gave me one more look before going to serve a customer.

Bex whirled my stool around to face her. The motion made me slightly dizzy.

"See?" she snapped. "No matter what crazy thoughts are floating around in that pretty little head, you're a ten. Adam doesn't bullshit," she told me firmly.

I raised my eyebrow at her. "Slathered in this much makeup, Fiona off Shrek would look like a supermodel," I stated. "Plus, my you-know-what is almost showing in these shorts," I added.

Bex rolled her eyes. "You're twenty-three and not a virgin anymore. Call it what it is. Vagina. Pussy. The word doesn't bite," she teased.

I didn't answer, just sipped my vodka. "I'm not doing it," I declared when she wouldn't stop looking at me with that expectant stare.

Her shoulders sagged, but she wasn't mad. She kissed my cheek. "Yeah, babe, thought that'd be your final answer. This place," she waved her hands around, "isn't you." There wasn't judgment or sarcasm in her voice, just something sad. It was quickly masked, and she propped up her boobs in a way every male in the immediate vicinity looked our way.

Bex was oblivious. "Gotta go make rent." She blew me a kiss and winked, then strutted toward backstage.

I frowned at her back, something niggling at the back of my mind at her strange demeanor. Her eyes had been darting around everywhere, and she seemed more hyped than she'd been in the car. The thought was quickly lost. I leaned on my chair, saving myself at the last minute when I realized my chair had no back, because it was a bar stool. That would've been embarrassing. I leaned forward, plonking my elbows on the bar, putting my chin in my hands and chewing on my straw with my mouth. While I did that, I also chewed over Bex's words.

"This place, it isn't you."

"Who am I?" I half whispered to myself.

I asked that question, that pivotal question of my identity and was coming up blank. I didn't know who I was without my mom to be loud to counteract my quiet. Without me to tamp down her eccentricity. I took care of her. Even before the cancer, I was the responsible one. She was a great mom, but her unique spirit meant she didn't ride me about homework, curfews, or anything. It meant she didn't think like other moms. I was responsible. I did homework. I made dinner for us when she'd locked herself away in her studio. We were a team. I was her partner. That's who I was. Up until now. Now I was no one. So why couldn't I be the girl who danced with her girlfriend at a strip club? Why couldn't I let go of all of my inhibitions that had crippled me half my life? What's the worst that could happen? I'd already had the worse-hit rock bottom.

"What was that, babe?" Adam's voice made me jump and I met his dancing eyes.

"Nothing," I said quickly, not needing the hot bartender to know I was talking to myself.

Adam knew me a little. Well, as well as someone as hot as him could know a girl like me. I barely spoke to him on the rare occasion I came here to hang out with Bex. More like she dragged me here when I'd been cooped up in my room for too long studying, or staring at hospital walls. Staring at strip club walls wasn't much better, but it did serve to take my mind off things. The girls were nice, Adam was the only bartender that spoke to me, all the other males in the joint leered. Including her boss, who made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. Luckily I'd flown under their radar, thanks to the fact I near shrunk into myself every time they tried to talk to me. They quickly lost interest, in a mousy mute.

So, because Adam knew me, his eyes softened slightly. "Want me to call you a cab?" he asked, having to yell over the music.

I did want him to call a cab. I wanted to go home to our four walls with crumbling paint and pretty posters and fairy lights. Though the pictures that decorated those same walls hindered me, that and the promise of solitude. I usually loved it. Now being alone with my thoughts was the last thing I needed. I was worried the silence my own thoughts offered would swallow me up. Plus, Asher was coming. As much as I knew he would mess up my brain, how the attachment I felt to him was unhealthy, my drunken mind didn't need to focus too hard on that. Only the promise of his touch, his presence. I'd been talking to him on the phone every single day. He'd patiently waited for me to be ready for more. I wanted it. Craved it. But something stopped me. Something that didn't seem important right now.

"Nah, I'm good," I grinned at him drunkenly.

He gave me a long look then scanned the room quickly. "You stay here during Becky's routine, 'kay darlin'?" he ordered. "Big crowd tonight, a lot of rowdy men lettin' loose. You're a sweet girl who's had a drink too many, it's like blood in the water to these sharks," he told me seriously.

I giggled slightly. Adam was protecting my honor. It was sweet. "Don't worry, men aren't going to trouble themselves with little old me when there's women taking off their clothes in front of them," I said decisively.

Adam gave me a look with furrowed brows. "Just stay here," he repeated.

I saluted him. "Yes, sir."

He shook his head and gave a small laugh. His eyes turned slightly sad, and he looked like he was going to say something before someone called him. He gave me a stern look to stay put before he left.

I swirled on my stool, sucking the last of my drink, regarding the scene. Adam was right, the place was packed. Tables full of men crowded the room. Females were peppered throughout these groups, but they were few and far between. It wasn't exactly the classiest strip club, not that I had much to compare it to. It was dimly lit and the decor and tables dated. Most of the men who worked here were paid extra to convince the waitresses to turn to stripping, and most tried aggressively to get into bed with them. Luckily, Bex didn't let anyone pressure her into anything, but it didn't mean I liked the way it was. But it was her choice. She worked here at first to support herself through medical school. Now she just worked here to support herself. Medical school was a distant memory.

"Lily, it's so good to see you," a familiar voice drawled.

I inwardly cringed, swiveling on my bar stool.

Bex's sleazy boss stood in front of me, shamelessly leering. He was wearing black slacks, terrible snakeskin shoes, and a shirt with too many buttons undone. His huge belly protruded over his belt buckle. A tacky gold chain around his neck completed the Sopranos look.

"Tony, so good to see you," I greeted him with a straight face.

Carlos looked momentarily confused. He wasn't used to me being so articulate, let alone flippant. His face then turned into a sly grin.

"I'm sure you know by now that it's Carlos, though, by the looks of it, you've indulged in a lot of cocktails, name mix-ups are inevitable," he nodded to my now empty glass.

I didn't say anything, merely shrugged my shoulders. I was hoping he'd get bored of me like he normally did.

"When are you going to decide to come and work here?" he asked, stepping into my personal bubble. "You could make a lot more money than you do at that bar. Men like the schoolgirl thing," he gave me another once over, "the sex kitten thing you've got going tonight could make you a lot of money also." His chubby finger trailed on my bare thigh. "Enough to put you through college and pay any pesky medical bills left over," he continued, his voice sending shivers down my spine. Not the good ones.