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 wellknown 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 curses leads me to her studio.Paint fumes assault my nose as I push open the metal door, my retinas overwhelmed by an explosion of colors.Through the chaos of canvases, I find my artistic friend bent over, cleaning the paint-stained floor.
"Next time, don't yell my name at the top of your lungs," she mutters."You gave me a freaking heart attack."
"Sorry."I pick up a shard of glass on my way to her.Bella places her paintbrushes aside and wipes her hands on the towel hanging from her easel.When she turns, I can't help but chuckle at her outfit - old stained jeans and a black v-neck shirt readingIf you could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint.Her red hair's tied up with a ribbon, and colorful paint smears decorate her right cheek.
"That is fucking gorgeous, Bells," I declare, pointing to her newest creation.She's so goddamn gifted.
Bella snorts, gazing at the canvas standing in the middle of the room.She shrugs."I don't know."Her fingers intertwine behind her head as she studies it."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 catch myself mid-movement and drop onto the small lounge in the corner.Through the enormous glass window in the ceiling, fluffy clouds drift by, offering a momentary escape from her knowing gaze.
"Okay, speak up.Has it to do with the attacker?"
"No.This has to do with another man."
Bella sits next to me, mimicking my posture."Let me guess, Cole?"
I hum in agreement.
"So what's going on with you two?"
The words burst out before I can stop them.I tell her everything - how I asked Cole for sex, his initial rejection, the contract, and the mind-blowing encounters that followed.
"Jesus, girl, ever heard of the term dating?"
"What?"I sit up straight, turning to face her."We're not dating.We're helping each other out.He helps me with the intimate issue I've got going on, and in return, I help him with Samantha and his overbearing mother."
"Okay, then what's the problem?Does he lack in the sex department?"She raises a curious brow.
