Never Call Me When You're Sober Novels & Stories

Her hand slipped between her legs, and her fingers seductively played with herself. "Fuck you, Kamilla... don't use that tone on me. Don't Call Me Baby" he growled at her, then shifted his fierce inebriated eyes to watch her fingers stroke her pink folds. "Fuck me, my Baby Samuel. I need you deep inside me, please, Baby," she teases him further, knowing that it will ruin all of his reserves. "Don't Call Me Baby, Kamilla, it's dangerous at times like this" he muttered through gritted teeth.

’ He says. He is right. I hear my phone ringing. I pull it from the desk drawer and see it is Izzy. This conversation really needs to wait until I am sober. So I let the phone go to voicemail. But of course I couldn't get that lucky, because a minute later it starts ringing again. Growling, I pick it up and slide to answer the call. “What do you want Izzy?” I ask exasperated. I can tell by her gasp that she can tell I am drinking, not that I am surprised by the way my voice came out.

The line went quiet for a moment, “I’ve never hated you babe, I got in a bit too far with drugs. Then we found out you were pregnant and I knew I had to get serious and take care of you guys. We stopped having fun and I guess I was mad at you but I was mostly mad at myself. I guess I was just angry I needed to let go of that lifestyle and I took it out on you. But listen Kay, I’m sober now and I’m so sorry we could have what we had. Can we please talk and I could show you?” “How did you call me again?” “I have been giving my cellmate my lunch everyday to talk to you, it sucks when you don’t answer.” “Wait you lose your lunch even if I don’t answer?” “Well yeah, it still costs money even if y

Woman qued while chatting to one another. I sighed heavily, I was a terrible drunk. Everything was depressing me. I leaned against the wall and pulled my phone from my pocket. My sober self was going to be pissed. But my drunk self didn't care. I dialed Wyatt's number and listened to the ring. "Kenz? Are you okay?" "Why do you always think I'm calling because I'm in trouble? I'm not a damsel in distress!" "Why are you shouting? Is that music? Where are you?"

"Fine. You want to be stupid and act like this for no f*cking reason, Go ahead Brooks. Drink yourself to death. You win. I'm done trying to make you see what I see in you. Until you actually grow the f*ck up, Don't call me again Brooks. Don't stop by my window at night and Don't have Jonah check up on me. I thought maybe just maybe I was getting through to you and bringing the good side of you out but obviously, I was wrong. Enjoy the miserable life you are creating for yourself Brooks. In the end, you will regret it." Right before she hung up I could hear her sobbing.I dropped my phone and yelled F*CK! And threw the bottle of Jack on the floor and it shattered. I picked my phone back up and

She smiled sadly. “Yeah. When I heard you call my name over the phone, my throat just closed up and I cut the call. It was a knee jerk reaction.” “I recently just got off medication. My therapist said I should be fine without them for a while but if I experience any manic episodes, I should tell her.” “Have you?” She shook her head no. “That’s good then.” She shook her head again and looked to the floor. I thought she meant it wasn’t good but her shoulders were shaking.

“Are you drunk?” “I had one drink. That’s hardly enough to get drunk.” “So… you’re sober?” I wanted to know if he was fully in control of his words and actions. “Dead sober,” “Good,” I lifted my chin. “That means you’ll remember this. We can go back to the way we’ve been these past few days. We don’t have to cross paths. We can exist peacefully and mom will never have to find out.”

“Guilt was eating at me, someone brought beer to the training, and that’s how it started. It ended with my downing two bottles of whiskey.” “Owen, I don’t know what to say to you. I am disappointed you drank to get away from your problems. You should’ve stayed sober and talked to Mel. I need to go now; I am meeting a client. Try and stay away from women who aren’t your mate.” “I will, mom.” She hung up the phone without saying anything else. I tried to call Mel again, but the same thing occurred. The call continued to ring without going to voicemail.

Zane Saint: Talk to me. Saint: Fallon... Saint: I'm sorry. Saint: We need to talk. Saint: Look, ignore me all you want but I refuse to go away. I'm like a disease. I stared down at my phone. In all my desperation, I was pretty sure I just told the girl I care about that I was like a disease. And I wasn't even drunk. It was a completely sober text. Damn it. Saint: But a good disease.