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I slide my hand inside the pocket of my jacket and pull out the bag containing the black piece of lace I ripped from her body. As I stare at it, I cringe my nose, recalling the moment Brian pulled it out of his pocket. I wanted to punch that smirk off his face. The thought of him or any other man touching her makes me tense up. His question, if I'm developing feelings for Alex, makes me wonder.
Am I?No, I answer instantly. She's attractive, and her personality intrigues me, but that doesn't count as deeper feelings, does it? I put the bag back in my pocket and take another sip of my beer.
I have to prepare Sam for my mom's visit this Sunday. Right away, tension builds in my neck muscles. I love my mother, but our relationship has been challenging for as long as I can remember.
Without warning, a tidal wave of old memories and their feelings consume me. With spinning thoughts, I set my beer down on the side table next to my chair and rise. The deep feelings emerging from the depths of my soul overtake my mind. In a split second, I stroll inside and walk to my bedroom and kneel. After opening the bottom drawer of the hard wooden desk that's beside my bed, I search for that little button I haven't pressed for months. When my index finger finds it, the familiar unlocking click of a door travels through the space. I stand up and walk until I'm right in front of the hard wooden door in the back of my bedroom. With one push, the door opens. Straightaway, the well-known battle between an intense yearning and overwhelming heaviness takes over. For what feels like ages, I stand on the threshold, gazing at what once was my life. Demons have a field day eating away at my soul's pain as I remember what I did.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I turn and walk away. The door closes, falls back in its lock, and once back outside, I plunge back in my chair, grab my beer, and take a generous sip in the hope the alcohol will diminish the deep anguish ready to take over my mind. I haven't felt like this in a long time, but I don't like it. When I notice the feelings are not fading, I pull out my phone and search for a number. As I do, I work out the time difference to see if I'm about to wake someone in the middle of the night with my call. When I figure it's an agreeable time, I press the button. It only takes a few rings before it's answered.
"Dr. Angela Mezzo."
"Hey, Angela. It's me."
"Cole?"
"Yeah, it's me," I affirm.
"Are you okay?"
I let out a long, exhausted huff.
"Old stuff coming back up?" she asks.
"Old and new, and it's starting to drive me nuts."
"Then talk, Cole. I'm available the whole morning."
17
ALISHA
I rush up the stairs,and when I'm midway in the hall, I stop and yell, "Bella, I'm back, and I've got ice cream. Where are you?"
The sound of shattering glass followed by the stream of curses tells me where to go, and when I push open the metal door, my nose gets bombarded with paint fumes while the cones in my retinas are overloaded by a multitude of colors. I gaze through the open space that's Bella's studio and find my artistic friend bent forward, cleaning the paint-stained wet floor.
"Next time, don't yell my name at the top of your lungs, please? You gave me a freaking heart attack."
"Oh, sorry." On my way over to her, I pick up another piece of glass. Bella places her paintbrushes on the wooden table next to her and wipes her hands with a towel that’s hanging from her easel. When she turns my way, I chuckle at her outfit. She's wearing a pair of old stained blue jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt with letters saying,If you could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint.Her red hair is tied up with a red ribbon, and her right cheek shows smears of colorful paint.
"That is fucking gorgeous, Bells," I declare, pointing to her newest creation.She's so goddamn gifted. Bella snorts as she gazes at the canvas standing in the middle of the room.
She shrugs. "I don't know." She intertwines her fingers behind her head and keeps staring at it for a while. "It's missing something, and I can't figure out what it is."
She lowers her arms and turns her attention to me.
"So, my dear Alisha, are you ready to tell me why you've been staying at my place these last four days instead of living in your gorgeous apartment?"
"Do you really want to know?"
Bella shifts her weight to one side and taps her finger against her chin while observing me. "Yeah, because the way you're brushing your hand along your arm tells me something is bothering you."
I gaze at my movement.Damn.I walk to the small lounge in the corner, and drop my ass on the couch. With my head resting on the back, I gaze at the fluffy clouds floating by through the enormous glass window in the ceiling of this studio.
"Okay, speak up. Has it to do with the attacker?"
"No. This has to do with another man."
My dear friend sits next to me and mimics my posture. "Let me guess, Cole?"
