MY HEARTBEAT ROARED IN my ears. 

       I didn't think I'd ever been so terrified in my life. It was different when it happened to other people—it was different when it was on the news.

      But now, on the threshold of an alley, with four men gathering around me, it was real.

      It was real, and I didn't have time to scream.

      The first homeless man—the one who had rung the bell—bared a smile. His front teeth were missing, and in the dim streetlights, I could see a glint of gold.

      The other three were dressed in ragged clothing. I could barely see their faces through the streaks of dirt—filth. But the whites of their eyes shone bright, stark against brown skin.

     Fuck. I knew how this ended. Of course I did. 

     I was frozen in place. I'd never been a fast runner. Backing up into the alley—that would be stupid. But even if I had wanted to, I couldn't.

     The homeless man with the gold teeth pulled me in towards him and pressed a hand against my mouth.

     I opened my mouth to scream, to cry out, but I tasted copper and dirt and sewage. 

     Panic rose up inside of me like a tidal wave.

     "Hey there, fellas," said a voice from the street.

     Aaron. He'd said five minutes. Five minutes, and he'd come looking for me.

     I would have laughed at the word fellas at any other time, but—not when I was cornered in an alley, with a large, dirt-caked hand pressed to my mouth.

     "Mind your business," snarled one of the men. 

     "There better be no trouble here," Aaron said darkly. "That's my girlfriend right there. You don't want to make a scene, do you?"

     And he held up his phone. In the dark light of the alley, I could just make out what he had typed onto the keypad. 9-1-1. 

      "If you don't get away from her in twenty seconds, I'm calling the police."

      "What'll the police do by the time they get here?" snickered the man holding me. "Carry a dead body or two?"

       The threat in his words almost made me buckle to my knees. But he was the only one, and when the other three men slowly retreated back towards the sidewalk, he released me with a sneer.

       I could still taste his hand against my mouth. I could still feel the press of his thick fingers on my lips.

       "Not worth it,"  said one of the others.

       They must have decided to just drop it. Maybe in the light of the city behind him, Aaron's six-foot frame and broad shoulders had been too much of a challenge. 

       I wondered if Aaron really could have taken them on. I knew he was athletic—he was the captain of the football team. But would he outmatch four men with nothing to lose?

       I was glad I wouldn't find out, though. As soon as they were gone, I pitched myself into Aaron's arms.

       I didn't cry. I wasn't sure I had it in me. But the shaking intensified until he had to hold my shoulders. Keep me still.

      "I didn't think," I said, over and over. "I didn't think."

      Things like that didn't happen to girls like me. I'd been catcalled before with Skylar. I'd even been groped once in a club, by some guy who Aaron later punched. But being cornered in an alley by strange men . . . I'd never really thought of that as a possibility. 

      They'd seen me walking alone and taken their chance. As simple as that. And what they would've done—

      Stupid. To think it could happen to other girls, but not me.

      I'd never make that mistake again.

      "Let's go home," Aaron whispered into my hair. "Alright? Let's just go home, Tal."

       I breathed in his cedar-and-spice scent. "But what about—" The words wouldn't come. "Cody and—Skylar—and—"

       Fuck. I was a mess.

       "This is more important," he said.

       "They'll be mad—we left them behind—"

       One of his hands was firm on my shoulder. With the other, he cupped my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. "This is more important, you hear me?"

       "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'm sorry I—"

       "Hey. It's okay, Tal. It's okay, I promise. Can you make it to my car? Do you need me to carry you?" Without waiting for an answer—he'd probably decided I was in too much shock to walk—he swept me into his arms.

        The entire ride home, I kept replaying the scene in my mind. Hearing my name, seeing the bubble-green letters of graffiti, and then turning around.

        That old man's face was still vivid in my mind. The crease of his jowls, the maroon bruises beneath his eyes. When he had bared his teeth into a smile, I'd seen his molars glint gold.

        It hit me, then, that he'd started ringing the bell when he saw me walking. Just the silhouette of a girl, defenseless in the darkest part of the city.

        Was that a signal?  I wondered. A call for his friends? 

        I'd probably never know, but the thought of what they would have done to me—all four of them—

       "Stop the car," was all I managed to say, fumbling for the door handle. Aaron braked so hard I heard the tires screech. As soon as I flung myself out of the car, I tripped. 

        With my hands and knees on the gravel of the road, I vomited into a bush.

        Probably not the most attractive thing for my boyfriend to see. But he was my best friend first, wasn't he?

        He waited in the car until I was done, and when I finally pulled myself together enough to climb back in, he handed me a few tissues.

        "Are you okay?" he asked.

        I just nodded, and for the rest of the car ride, he was silent.

       WHEN WE GOT HOME, ALMOST an hour later, I had a dozen missed calls from Cody and a string of angry texts from Skylar. I shut my phone off, but not before realizing I'd forgotten to text Monroe back. 

        Study at 4?

        I'd forgotten to respond. She probably hated my guts by now.

        "Wait," I said. "This isn't my driveway."

        "We're having a sleepover tonight. Will your parents mind?"

        "I haven't told them we're dating yet, so they'll be okay with it. But your dad is—"

        "Strict. I know. Is it okay if you sleep with my cousin? I'll text her right now and see if she—"

        He meant Monroe.

        My heartbeat rose to a stuttering battle cry. Sleep with Monroe. I'd had dreams about that. I'd—

       Not the time, I scolded myself. But for a moment, the thought of Monroe had somehow made me feel . . . a little better.

       Which didn't make sense. I hated her.

       "No!" I blurted out. "I'll just go home. I can't—"

       Aaron narrowed his hazel eyes at me. In the dim light, they glowed almost like liquid gold.

       "No way, Talia," he said. "You're staying with me tonight. I don't want you to be alone."

       I wasn't sure what I'd have preferred. The truth was, I think I needed to be alone to process it. To wrap my mind around what had been so close to happening.

       But I knew Aaron wouldn't let me go, at least not tonight. 

       "Okay," I finally agreed. "I need a shower and—to wipe my mouth clean." I could still taste the dirt in my mouth—could still feel the dry skin of his palms, rough against my mouth. "But Monroe—"

       Her name caught in my throat. I was burning up from the inside out just at the thought of her seeing me like this. Seeing what a mess I was.

       "I'll sneak you into my room first," Aaron promised. "You can take a shower in my bathroom. Monroe is just across the hall. I'll explain everything to her in the meantime."

        "Okay," I finally said. Closing my eyes. 

        I felt myself get out of the car. Go through the front door. Climb up the stairs. The motion of it all was almost lulling. When I got to Aaron's room, he closed the door behind me.

        Why did I feel so fucking numb?

        "Here's a towel," he told me. "For when you're done. I'll leave some clothes on the bed when you get out. You'll be alright?"

        "I won't drown myself in the shower, if that's what you're asking." I tried to smile, but the words seemed flat.

        "You're such an asshole," he said. "Now, go on. I love you, you know."

        I closed the bathroom door behind me. Sank down to the floor. Thought about what was so close to being a part of my story.  "I love you, too," I whispered, but it was too little, too late.

        AS SOON AS I GOT OUT of the shower, I found the aforementioned clothes on Aaron's bed. The room was empty, and I assumed that meant he was talking to Monroe.

        I sent a quick text to my mom, telling her I was sleeping over at Aaron's. She sent me a little heart emoji back.

        As for Skylar and Cody . . . I really did feel like an asshole for ignoring them. But I knew they'd get home okay—Skylar had an unlimited amount of money on her black Amex card. Hell, if she wanted to, she could buy them their own limousine.

       And as for Monroe's text, I just . . . couldn't.

       Today had been one long fucking day. From the kiss on the bleachers to Aaron's dorky promposal sign to the trip downtown, I didn't think I had energy left. For anything.

       Then I glanced down at the bed. The clothes.

       They sure as hell weren't Aaron's.

       There was a black bra and underwear with the price tags still on them. If these were Monroe's, she'd probably never worn them because the size was too big.

        I picked up the bra . . . and then set it back down. 

        I had the opposite problem. 

       This would definitely be too small for my chest.

       At least there was a giant grey T-shirt. The cotton was soft, and when I brought it to my nose, inhaling the fabric, the scent was distinctly Monroe's. 

       Sea salt. Pine.

       I didn't even realize the door to Aaron's room had opened until I heard him say, "Are you . . . sniffing Monroe's shirt?"

      I set it back down quickly. "No."

      "Weirdo. Anyways, she's okay with you sleeping in her room. Whenever you're tired, just . . . let me know."

       I swallowed. Sleeping with Monroe . . . sleeping in her bed, I corrected myself. Not sleeping with her. Just in her bed.

      "Did you just say weirdo?"  I asked lightly, as he turned around to let me change.

      "I did, actually. What's wrong with that?"

      "Oh, nothing," I said, sliding on the underwear but leaving out the bra. Hopefully the T-shirt would be baggy enough to cover me. 

       After hopping into a pair of cotton shorts, Aaron turned around.

       "What's wrong with the word weirdo?"

       "I haven't heard it since we were in grade six."

       "What if I wanted to bring it back?"

       "Um. You do you, I guess?"

       "Got a problem with it?" Aaron scrunched up his nose. "What's the matter? Got a problem with being called a weirdo?" He pushed me backwards onto the bed, and I couldn't help laughing. "Huh? Got a problem?"

       "You are such an idiot," I said, once we were laying side by side on his bed. I could hear the quick intake of his breathing; the laughter had dissolved, but I was still smiling.

       "I know. But you love me."

       "I do."

       And something came over me. I wasn't sure what, but—I rolled onto my side. Propped myself up.

       "Kiss me," I whispered. I'd already brushed my teeth four times, but I needed to taste something—anything—than that copper, the flakes of drying skin mixed with earth. Anything. 

       "What?" 

       "Kiss me," I repeated. "Come on, this is what boyfriends and girlfriends do, isn't it? Just . . . kiss me."

        He used one hand to touch my jaw. His palm was almost the size of my cheek. And when he brought his lips to mine, kissing me slowly, deeply, I tried to think about Aaron and not the way the old man had used his arm to hold me down. How he had smiled in the shadows, his teeth flashing golden.

        This was good. This was nice. This was—a distraction.

        I didn't even feel myself reaching beneath his shirt, sliding my hand against his hard, muscled stomach. But when my fingers drifted lower, when I fumbled for the buckle of his belt, he stopped me.

         "Talia, we're not having sex."

         "Why not? It's what girls and guys do, right? Don't you want that? You're a boy. You . . ."

         "Because," he said gently, swiping a thumb against my cheek, "it shouldn't happen like this. You're crying."

         And I was. I brought my hands to my face—felt the tears sliding silently down to my jaw.

         Slowly, I untangled myself from Aaron, falling back at his side once more.

         I didn't know how much time passed in silence before I quietly asked, "Am I making a big deal out of this?"

        I felt Aaron shift his weight. He was probably on his side now, looking at me, but I kept my eyes on the ceiling.

        "I just . . . maybe I'm overreacting," I continued. My lips trembled, and I pressed them together. "It's not like they did anything to me. All one of them did was put his hand on my mouth. So maybe this is stupid."

        "Of course it's not stupid," Aaron said. "Talia, that would have been scary for anybody. And you . . . I hope you always feel safe with me."

        I hadn't known how much I needed to hear that. "Even if nothing . . ."

       "But something did happen. They were backing up on you in that alley. Who knows what they would have done? Even I . . ." Aaron raked a hand through his curls. "I'm thinking about it, too. What they would have done to you. And it's so scary I feel like I can't breathe. I'm glad you're safe, Tal, and don't you ever feel like you're exaggerating or—or overreacting."

       "Thanks, Aaron," I said, curling into his side. My mouth opened into a yawn. "By the way . . . don't forget. You can't let me fall asleep. If your dad finds me here in the morning . . ." I shuddered. "He's going to raise hell."

       Aaron's heartbeat eased into a steady rhythm, soothing enough that I felt my eyes closing. 

        "I know," he said. "I won't forget."

>>>

Where do you think Talia will wake up?

Hint hint: Not Aaron's bed.

From the moon and back,
Sarai