“MCKENZIE!” my father screeches somewhere in the room.

I feel like I’m falling, and my knees hit the floor, but my entire body feels perforated.

“Call mom, now!” he’s screaming.

It must be to Oliver, but I hear nothing from his heavy boots. I only hear a slight movement. I cry out. I hope he’s listening.

“Dad.” My voice is broken, then non-existent. “Dad. Dad! I’m here! I’m right here. Please, help me. It hurts everywhere!”

I’m crying, but I hear nothing around me.

Warmth involves my body. There’s nothing on my skin – at least not on my arms. Why is this blanket so odd? It has such a rough texture. I open my eyes – and just like that, reality appears before me in all senses.

I see blood on my shins. I’m sitting up and being supported. I don’t need to look back to know who it is; that scent is unmistakable. I taste a bitterness on my tongue. I can’t tell if it’s borne out of fear or hunger.

“It’s okay, Princess. I’m here.” Aden whispers in my ear.

The person helping is only interested in the wounds he’s nursing, his brows meeting in the middle of his forehead with some sizeable droplets of sweat sitting on them.  I lean further into Aden, trying to forget what my memory chose to betray. The man presses anti-septic to the last open wound before bandaging it.

“I don’t think you need to go to the hospital or anything. But it’s all up to you.”

“It’s fine.”

From my response, no one would ever agree that my statement is truthful since my voice trembles intensely.

“Hey.” He places a hand on my knee. “You’re not there anymore.”

I frown, and he laughs in response.

“I know trauma when I see it. I’ve been burnt and seen a lot of people be burnt at the centre by molten glass. The reactions are quite unique.”

I’m not sure why he’s telling me that. It’s not really making me feel any better. I grab Aden’s arm, prompting him to kiss the crown of my hair.

“Thank you for helping my cousin.”

I cringe. He’s only saying that to not draw any more attention to himself, but it’s still annoying at a time like this. I force myself to stand. Once I’m up, I feel better, so I tell Aden I’m ready to leave.

Outside, the sun shines brightly, making me feel even more terrible. Aden finds us a cab and he holds me during the ride out of town. At some point, he decides to ask what he’s probably been wondering since the flea market.

“McKay? Were you being reminded of–”

“That day?”

“Yes.”

“I really wish I wasn’t. It hurts to relive those moments, always making me feel fucking exhausted.” My eyes water despite my efforts to retain the tears. “Maybe I should go back to Cleveland.”

“Absolutely not. We are going to have fun, because we both deserve it – you more than me right now.”

I want to contest, but Aden is right. There’s no reason to mope when I’m in Pittsburgh with him after weeks of waiting to be close to him. I grab his shirt and pull him towards me, so I can offer him my lips.

He smooths the roughness off them and licks through my mouth. I lick back and press my body to him firmly. I love his touch so much. The kiss is exactly what I need to get my spirits up. I sigh into his arms.

I really do love him. Once I think of the words though, my body warms. I want him. I want Aden. I want his body and his mouth and lips and… I want him inside of me. I’m ready now.

If ever there was a guy to have sex with because I love him, it’s Aden. He’s seen the beautiful and the ugly parts of me. I should complete the picture for him. I’m going to have sex with him before we leave Pittsburgh. I smile up at him sexily. He has no idea what’s in store for him.

Unfortunately, my surprise in Irwin is about an hour from the centre of Pittsburgh, so we have plenty of time to talk. So, of course, Aden asks about something else I don’t want to talk about.

The only reason I ranted to Aden on the phone when I did was because I was still very pissed off at Tonya. I only finish the story of her cold-bloodedness last week when we reach our destination.

“I don’t think she did anything wrong.”

“What?”

“She wanted to talk to London. From one person who fucked up to the next, I know what it’s like to do everything in one’s power to get to who we want to get to. I get it.”

I glare at him. He’s obviously self-inserting.

“I’m not condemning her decision to pursue London again. I’m mad that she ousted Amanda without her consent, right after dumping her so callously and publicly. Almost everyone was reprimanding her for it too.”

“By everyone, you mean you, Danatha and Sybil.”

“And Cassidy.” I grumble. “But she still had no right to do that.”

“I agree with you; at least on that. It’s okay to still be angry with her. But Tonya thinks like a dude.” One look at me and Aden is shaking his head. “Oh no. How did she pull this one off?
“Do you know something, Princess? She shouldn’t be back in your good graces this fast if you were as infuriated as you were making it seem.”

“You don’t know her. Tonya is complicated.”

“Okay, explain.”

‘You’re already convinced–”

“No such thing. I’m all ears.”

“When she didn’t pitch up at school for days, we got worried. She was so cold, but furious when she opened the door; it was like a chill was in there with her.”

“Skip the dramatics, please.”
I roll my eyes.

“She was mad about London refusing her, sure. But she was also angry because her family decided to exclude her from their Ramadan ceremony, because she doesn’t follow their customs. Her parents literally travelled to Uzbekistan without her. They left her home, all alone on a day that should be about congregating with family.
“I can’t help it; I feel for her. She kept wailing that no one wants her – not her family, London or even us – her own friends, after what she did. I can’t give her the cold shoulder with what she’s going through.”

“Not to discount from her pain–”

“But whatever you say after that statement will. People in pain don’t need to be scolded, they need kindness. You should understand that more than most.”

Aden’s dismissive look tells me he isn’t satisfied with the conclusion of the conversation. But I can’t let him insult my friend. Yes, Tonya can be horrible, but she is a strong, beautiful person, and a mostly loyal friend when unprovoked.

“Let’s go before we’re late.” I divert.

It’s midday when we enter The Break Room. We greet the instructor and head on into our designated compartment. All its walls, but one, are a vibrant red with white skirting boards. The singular black wall is littered with chalk-like drawings and onomatopoeias.

I help set up everything for us to smash and pick all three options when asked to choose between a golf club, a baseball bat or a crow bar.
Once we’re alone, I turn to Aden.

“Have you caught on?”

“Music Industry?”

“Don’t stupid executives pour lots of money into great sound systems? What do you say we fuck them up?”

Aden is up and ready to go. He swings his crow bar at the biggest speaker we brought with us. I have a go at the amplifiers. Soon, we get into a rhythm and smash things together, gurgling at the sounds and each other’s funny reactions.

I giggle when he bangs a mic-stand against the wooden crate that was left behind for us and runs up to me to smash me against the wall, only to make-out with me. He parts and lifts my thighs, trapping me. I moan as he kisses down my neck to my cleavage.

Shit, I crave him so much in these moments.

I get to see his jovial smile and languid movements shrink the room. He’s free – free of the burdens of contracts, executives and possible lawsuits. We hop out laughing uncontrollably. I can’t get over the way he almost fell when he tripped over a compressor and he teases me for taking ages to break one of the microphones.

“I bet it’s reinforced with something.” I declare, heading off into the bathroom of the next-door gas station.

I return, only to be immediately faced with Aden’s back to me as he laughs with a woman in between his arms, like I had been minutes ago.

I don’t like that tears immediately spring to my eyes. I’m not threatened, or jealous – just sad.
I don’t really want to be reminded of the Brighid Temanis, Hanna Seals and Nina Cleggs of the world. They can touch him as much as I can if he allows them to.

Walking forward, I station myself at Aden’s side as the woman leaves. I don’t even want to comment, but maybe I should this time. Aden tells me it’s a fan he’s met before and she asked for another picture. I instantly feel silly and excuse myself, saying that I’m going to find us a cab.

When I come back, Aden is contemplative.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” I lie.

“I don’t like to ask twice, Princess.”

“She was a fan…” I say without thinking.

“What?”

I should tell him. It’s weird that all these media outlets keep spotting him with random girls. Why is that? He’s supposed to be drowning in work.

Just a few days ago, I saw pictures of him being too friendly with that African-American gymnast called Hanna again. Where does he get time to hang out with them and above all, why doesn’t he ever tell me about them? They can’t all be publicity stunts.

“It’s–”

“You’re jealous again?”

“Yes, I am.”

He catches my arm and shakes me.

“I don’t know what you want, McKay. I already did everything in my power to make sure that you know that I only have eyes for you.”

“You had eyes for that girl.” I can’t help bringing up.

“I hate it when you act insecure. It’s annoying.”

“I’m sorry my feelings annoy you.”

“You yourself said to me that only I know how important you are to me.”

“It’s easier said than done.”

“Well, you can’t get angry when I take you at face value.”

“You can do whatever, Aden. It’s not like I can control you.”

“No, you can’t, and you should never try to either.”

“I’m well aware.”

“McKay, I swear to you–”

“Let it go.” I insist and climb into the awaiting cab.

We sit in silence as the car moves back into town. I want to cry, but there’s nowhere for me to hide right now. All I can do is focus on the hazy view of the car window and try my hardest to not let any tears fall. Once we get into the room, Aden slowly lowers himself onto the bed and plays with the rings on his fingers, waiting for me to talk, but I busy myself with packing instead.

The air is strained, cutting at the steep breath in my neck. But I do my best to keep calm. Just when I pull my backpack towards me, it rolls straight off the bed, onto my toes. I groan out loud. Aden comes to help me and sits me on the bed next to him. It’s only in his arms that I realise I’m shaking. He tucks some of my flyaways behind my ear as I hold in my grief.

I don’t know how to explain, much less validate what I’m feeling, but I am frustrated with the lack of control I possess over my temper when any other girl steps to Aden. It shouldn’t be like that. I should trust him, and I don’t. I could blame myself, but the truth is that Aden has given me reason to doubt him on multiple occasions. But now I look crazy for being wary of him being with any other girl.

“We can’t do this.”

My heart breaks when I hear those words. I should have known he wouldn’t put up with my fits for long.