The aroma of coffee beans and pastries wafts through the air, wrapping me in a calming presence as I step forward in line to place Connor and I's order for breakfast. My eyes flick over the menu, attempting to decide what to get, but no matter how hard I try to focus, I'm distracted.

Connor drilling into me from behind. His hands gripping my hips. His lips on every single crevice of my body.

And when I woke up beside him, I had to try and remember the last time I'd ever felt that peaceful. Watching the rising and falling of his chest as he slept, his face as serene as an angel's, it didn't take long before the panic replaced the awe I was in.

I shouldn't be itching to race right back to that penthouse and envelop myself in the furnace that his arms provide. I shouldn't be thinking of the lazy smile that fell onto his face when he realized I wasn't leaving him this time, and yet, everywhere I look, all I see is him. The plants in here remind me of his eyes. The calming presence of the fragrance of sweets reminds me of waking up beside him, warm and cozy while fighting the urge to place my head on his chest.

"Ma'am?" The cashier stares at me expectantly, eyeing the empty space in front of the register where the last customer previously stood.

Dammit! I didn't even look at the menu.

I order an arrangement of the basics—bagels, pastries, coffee, and two sides of hashbrowns, but when I pass over my card, the voice of a young girl stops me in my tracks. She's just entered the shop with her mom by her side, her hands on the glass as she eagerly taps at the pastry she wants.

It shouldn't be a trigger for me. It shouldn't send a bone-chilling sensation through my blood like ice water, but in seconds, my vision blurs as tears prick the backs of my eyes.

The walls feel as if they're closing in on me, this tiny coffee shop growing even smaller, and my lungs feel constricted, leaving me no room to breathe.

I'm never going to make it out of here.

I'm never going to make it.

I'm never going to make it to her.

***

"Esme, I told you it's fine. My parents are out of town this weekend! Why are you always so nervous about going to parties? Live a little, would you?" Tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, I adjust the tight mini skirt to sit correctly on my waist, doing another quick once-over before I nod in approval.

"You don't get it," she says with a sigh. "Your parents are so chill compared to my Dad. You know he'd freak out if he caught me sneaking out."

"Don't you want memories?" I ask. "When we get older, don't you want nights like these we can look back on and reminisce about? Just tell your Dad you're spending the night here. We've never been caught before."

I apply lip gloss while I wait for her response, smacking my lips together a few times to ensure it's perfect. My braids fall to my waist, the white sparkly beads clinking with every hair flip I make. Tonight, I feel hot. I feel invincible.

"Fine," Esme relents, "I'll go. Do you think TJ will be there?"

"Definitely. I heard the entire football team is going, which means this will finally be my chance to seal the deal with Carlos. I've been waiting long enough." The boy has been sneaking love letters in my locker for a straight week. If he wanted to make a move, tonight would be the night to do it.

"I'll pick you up in twenty. Are you positive Aaliyah isn't going to snitch?"

"Has she ever snitched before?"

Silence fills the other end of the line, and in return, I release an aggravated sigh. I love my best friend, I do, but convincing her to go out is like trying to coax a claustrophobic person into an MRI machine.

"Would it make you feel better if I confirm with her before we leave?"

"Yes, it would."

"Consider it done. I'll see you in twenty?"

With her reluctant agreement, I exit my room, my heeled boots clattering against the hardwood floors as I head to the room beside mine, barging in without knocking. Aaliyah and I are too close to knock. I never have before.

But now, I start to regret that comfortability of ours.

My little sister is curled up in bed crying her eyes out, unaware of my presence as I remain rooted in the entryway of her room. Aaliyah isn't the type to show emotions. We're very similar in that sense. If anything goes wrong, she's the ray of sunshine that filters through the dark clouds.

I've never seen her like this, so it doesn't take long for me to go full-on big sister, clenching my fists at my sides as I prepare to fight whoever the hell did this to her. "What happened?"

Her eyes pop up to mine, red-rimmed and puffy when she sits up in bed, wiping aggressively at her eyes to get rid of the tears. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Sure doesn't seem like nothing." Striding across her shaggy pink carpet, I sink onto her zebra comforter and wipe the tears off of her cheeks myself. "Be honest with me. We tell each other everything, Liah. What happened?"

"It's just these girls at school," she replies after about a minute. "They make fun of my hair."

I roam my gaze over her afro held back by an intricate headband our aunt sent her from Cape Town. While I've chosen to keep my hair in braids, my sister has always preferred completely natural over a protective style, and she's effortlessly beautiful because of it. For anyone to make fun of her for it? Anger lingers beneath my skin, brewing into pure hatred.

"What are they saying?" I keep my voice calm and steady, unwilling to let her young heart get destroyed by the world we live in. My parents and I have tried to keep her in the dark about the realities of being a minority and the challenges we face, but I thought she'd have a couple more years of her childhood before we'd have to tell her.

"Just...things," she whispers. With a slight shake of her head, her fingers grip the comforter with white knuckles. "It's been like this for weeks now. I keep thinking the comments will stop, but they just seem to be getting worse."

"Bullies suck," I admit, "but I bet they're saying all of these things because they're jealous. Have you seen your hair? It's stunning."

She rolls her eyes. "Please. Why would they be jealous of this when they have the straight blonde hair everyone wants?"

"Because sometimes being unique is better. People are afraid of others who stand out. They're afraid of being overshadowed. There is nothing wrong with your hair, Liah. You have to know that. People are just...assholes in middle school."

"Maybe," she replies quietly. "Why'd you come in here, anyway?"

My lips press into a firm line. Now does not seem like the right time to ask her if she'll cover for us, especially when she's been crying. Our parents are gone for the weekend. What if she needs someone? What if she needs me?

"Don't lie either," she warns. "It's written all over your face."

I let out a soft-hearted laugh. "Well, you got me there. Esme and I wanted to head out to a party tonight, but if you'd rather me stay, I'll cancel with her and we can binge on all the romance movies mom and dad refuse to let you watch."

Her eyebrows lift in amusement. "Oh, come on. You'd give up the chance to make things official with Carlos? You've had the biggest crush on him since freshman year, Ari. Please, don't stay back with your loser little sister when you could be macking on him in less than an hour."

"Nobody is more important than you, Liah. No one. I'll cancel any plans I have to ensure you're okay." I dip my chin to catch her gaze, and our eyes linger for a beat too long before she focuses back on the comforter.

"I'll be fine! Seriously, go. I want you to have a good time tonight. One of us should."

Fuck. What do I do? Carlos has been someone I've had the biggest crush on, but he means nothing if Aaliyah is upset. However, maybe she needs to be alone. Maybe she's telling me to go because she doesn't feel like having company around. I can understand that.

"Are you sure?" I ask, still not believing her. "I don't mind staying with you."

"And I know if I told you to stay with me, you would," she says, blinking away tears. "You're the best big sister anyone could ever ask for, but I want you to go, okay?"

"Fine, but can you at least give me the names of these little bitches who keep making fun of you?"

"And risk you embarrassing me further by beating them unconscious? I think I'll keep their names a secret. I'm going to handle things myself."

I pat her leg twice before rising from the bed, smoothing out my skirt in the process. "If I knew their names, I'd do a lot more than beat them unconscious, but since you won't tell me, I'll have to settle for being the annoying big sister and focus my attention on you instead. I'll call you in an hour to check in on you, alright? And I'll bring home all the juicy gossip to tell you later. Give you the best tips for when you finally decide to sneak out yourself."

Her lips tilt into a grin, but it isn't a full smile. This one doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Deal," she says. "Oh, and Ari?" With a hand on the doorway, I look over my shoulder to see her swipe away another tear. "I love you."

***

I love you.

The sentence wails in my head like a siren.

It repeats itself on a neverending loop, sending shockwaves of terror that create an iciness in my veins.

"Miss, are you okay?"

Blinking my eyes open to the bright light, the little girl looks like a miniature version of my sister as she stares down at me, her caramel eyes filled with concern. Her hair is an afro held back by a headband, and holy hell, I think I'm in some sort of alternate universe.

The small girl looks as if she's glowing.

Is she an angel?

"You passed out," she whispers, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "Should we call for help?"

Well, fainting is new. After Aaliyah's passing, obsessive-compulsive disorder was something I learned to live with, although I still seem to struggle with it daily. Fainting, however, isn't one of those problems of mine I can just push off. Fainting is a problem that needs to be dealt with immediately.

Slowly sitting up, my elbow has a dull throb, but everything else feels okay. "How long was I out?" I ask.

"Just a few seconds. I've...dealt with this before, so I figured I'd step in and help." The girl who has a scary resemblance to my sister can't be older than thirteen. I want to know why she knows how to handle someone fainting, but before I get the chance to ask, I feel the eyes of the entire bakery staring at me.

Great.

"I'm fine," I tell her. "Thank you for helping me."

The girl extends her hand to me, but I don't let her help me too much. I use my non-injured arm to help me rise, which seems to appease the bystanders enough to go back to their business. "It's not a problem," she says, jabbing a thumb to the counter. "Your order's ready."

Damn, that was quick.

I don't even remember ordering.

The woman who accompanies her gives me a soft, reassuring smile. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I just... She reminds me so much of my little sister." My thoughts come out before I can stop them, but I'm pretty sure it's because I'm in shock. My heart still pounds and I'm lightheaded as hell.

"She's not around anymore?" The young girl guesses.

"No. She passed away five years ago."

The young girl frowns. "I'm sorry."

I grab my bag from the counter and apologize to the cashier for the interruption. There's still a line waiting behind us to order, but thankfully no one intends on being an asshole to the girl who just passed out.

"Monique is actually looking for a big sister," the woman says, continuing to hold up the line.

I freeze dead in my tracks. "Um, what?"

"Greta," Monique warns.

The woman ignores her, rummaging around in her purse until she retrieves a card and passes it over to me. "I'm one of the volunteers for Big Sisters of America—a youth mentorship program for teens to reach their full potential. Monique is still looking for someone."

The irony.

Twirling the pink and white business card between my fingertips, I try to push past the lump in my throat and ignore the spark of hope in Monique's eyes. I'm not sure why she's part of this program, but she's sadly mistaken if she thinks I'd volunteer to be anyone's big sister. I have nothing to teach her. All she'd learn is how horrible of a big sister I was.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I'd qualify."

"Anyone can volunteer," the woman urges.

"No, you don't understand I..." A man behind them mutters a curse as the line grows longer, which gives me the excuse to get the hell out of here. "I'm not interested, okay? I'm sorry."

Tears burn in my eyes when Monique darts her eyes down to the floor. Unsurprisingly, I'm disappointing her too. I hardly know her, and I'm already letting her down. Isn't that all I ever do, though?

Clutching the bag to my chest, I make to pass by them until the woman grabs my arm and squeezes it. "Think about it," she says. "My number's on the card. If you change your mind, let me know."

Nobody wants me to be their big sister, but I can't exactly shout right here in this coffee shop that I'm the reason my sister is dead. I'm the reason she died, and I'll never forgive myself for it.

But my mind refuses to let me feel more shame than I already do, so rather than admit to my faults, I send her a warm smile back. "I will." 

 I don't bother to look back at Monique. If I do, I might cave, and that won't be good for either of us, but I will tell her one thing that's the truth.

 "In case no one has ever told you, Monique, your hair is beautiful."

Author's Note:

Updating a few hours early! I'm in the middle of moving to a new place with my hubby, so everything is hectic right now! 

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