11
CIARA
I ask Mark to excuse me and get up from the table to go to the bathroom. I need to rinse off my face and cool down a little bit and to get away fromhimand his hard, dangerous stare.
What is it that he’s trying to do? Intimidate me?
He didn’t want me, now what is it that he’s demanding?
I close the door behind me and look in the mirror. My face is still aflame, with rage, embarrassment and because of my own thoughts.
He can’t keep sending me these mixed signals. He can’t say what he did and then lynch me with his eyes because I’m in the company of another boy.
I dry my face and hands and inhale deeply. I open the bathroom door and practically slam into him.
“What… Were you spying on me, by any chance?”
“What are you doing here with that guy?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“What I don’t understand, Aaron, is what it is that you want. And, to be quite honest, I don’t really think what I do is any of your business after what you’ve made clear to me,” I reply dryly, turning to head back towards the bar.
Aaron grabs my arm, forcing me to turn around and look at him. His touch burns my skin and lights every emotion that I’ve willfully tried to repress.
We look at each other for an eternal moment before his gaze transforms into something other than rage. I’ve already seen this expression and so far it hasn’t brought me any pleasure.
He jerks me back inside the bathroom and shuts the door behind us.
I shake my head because I’m confused and a bit frightened by his behavior. Aaron must have understood that he’s crossed a line because he gently lets go of his grip on my arm. He leans his back against the door and slowly slides down to the floor. He takes his head in his hands and closes his eyes, breathing with difficulty.
I kneel down next to him and try to free him from the vice-like grip of his own hands. He resists me at first but then lets himself go without much effort and I can see that he’s afraid, just like he was that night on the roof.
“Everything is fine,” I whisper to him, caressing his beard as he continues to take in deep breaths, which only appear to make the situation worse.
“It’s just a panic attack,” I tell him. “It will pass in a few minutes.”
“My heart…” he pants, touching his chest.
“It’s not your heart.” I smile at him, covering his hand with my own.
“It seems like it’s going to jump out of my ribcage.”
“It’s just anxiety, it’s almost over. Keep breathing.”
He tries but it seems like he’s not able to. His face becomes pale and from the look in his eyes I can see that he’s losing his ability to focus.
I caress his nape sweetly and I invite him to lean against me, on my chest, on my heart, which seems to be going just as crazy as his is, if not more so.
He let’s himself go to me and I relax in the kneeling position. We stay like that in silence for a few minutes and the only sound that can be heard is that of our own hearts and labored breathing, even if each of us has different reasons for our distress. I can hear distorted noises coming from the bar in the background but pay them no attention.
Aaron cuddles between my shoulder and my neck, his breath tickles my skin as it slowly begins to return to normal. His forehead is covered in sweat but his body is trembling as if he’s cold.
I squeeze him in my arms with a bit of difficulty, given his imposing stature, and I start to cuddle him sweetly, hoping it will be enough to calm him.
He lifts his gaze at the same time as I lower mine in time to see that his eyes are finally going back to a calm normality.
