The sobs slowed and I scratched the salt away from my cheek as I looked up at him. “You really can’t tell my face is horrifically scarred?” His opinion mattered to me more than almost anyone else’s—even more than David’s.
“No.” He held both my arms and leaned back a little. “You can’t tell at all. You are perfect, just like you were before. You still have flawless, tight, smooth skin. Okay? So, stop feeling so bad about yourself, baby.” He bent his knees so his eyes came in line with mine. “You are beautiful.”
I nodded and ran my fingers over the scars. It was hard to even feel the slight bumps anymore; they used to feel like little pins rising up from under my skin. “I hate looking at myself, you know. I don’t look like me anymore.”
“You look the same to me. Maybe a little older—wiser, even.”
I smiled. “I really missed you, Mike.”
“Yeah. I know you did.”
“I really miss Mum and Harry, too.” I looked at the water, trying to stop the memory of their faces; “I keep thinking I’m just gonna go home and they’ll be there, you know, like always.”
“Is that why you don’t want to move back with me?”
“I never said that, Mike. Okay? Look, you just came in and, out of the blue, on the first day you get here, tell me you love me—no mind for the fact that I have a boyfriend—”
“Boyfriend?” Mike said. “Ara, you knew him for a day before you decided you were in love with him.”
“I did not. It took me ages to decide that.”
He scoffed. “A week then.”
“Are you kidding me?” I jerked forward, pointing to his chest. “You’re the one who told me I was being silly for not following my heart.”
“What was I supposed to say? Forget him, he doesn’t like you, he’s just pretending? I’m your friend. I care about you. I wanted you to be happy.” He dropped one hand to his side. “I just never thought you’d actually believe you were in love with him.”
“Believe I’m in love with him? What would you know about it? You don’t even know your own heart.” I shrugged out of his grasp. “You think you love me…but you don’t.”
“Ara—” Mike reached out, warning me of the staring people around us with a look in his eye.
“No. I don’t care if they look. Let them look. I’m not going to stand here while you tell me what’s in my heart.”
“That’s not what I’m doi—”
“Stop trying to touch me.” I jerked away from him. “I do love David, Mike. I do. You have no idea how much—and you never will,” I added coldly and folded my arms as I turned away.
“Oh, never, huh?” He followed, raising his voice as much as I had. “So this freaky, overly-possessive thing you have with David—is that true love, is it—is that how it works?” he asked in a conceited tone. “So, when you love someone more than anyone in the world has ever loved anyone else before, you let them hurt you and leave bruises on you?”
I huffed.
“And don’t think I didn’t see that cut on your wrist, Ara.”
My steps came to an abrupt halt; I unfolded my arms and looked down at my left wrist.
“Yes. I saw it!” His voice became huskier. “I know you didn’t do that. I know you better than that.”
“I—”
“David did it. Didn’t he?” He came up out of nowhere, spinning me around sharply and held my wrist up. “Is this what love is, Ara? Is it? Because I love you more than this. I would never hurt you like this.”
“You’re hurting me now.” I twisted my wrist in his grip and yanked it out through his fingers. “Just leave me alone, okay? I’ve had enough.”
“Ara?” he called.
Forget it. I didn’t need to stand there and have him tell me I knew nothing about love; I’d felt its spiny sting—I knew exactly what it was. Mike was just worried because he thought David hurt me. But of course he did; love is pain. And maybe it was wrong of David and I to do what we did, but it felt right in the moment, so I didn’t care what Mike thought. Not that he’d know it was blood sharing, anyway. In fact, I actually couldn’t even imagine what he thought David had done to me.
“Ara. Stop.”
“I said leave me alone, Mike.”
“No,” he said from a few feet away. “I’m not letting you walk off by yourself. You’re a young girl in a bikini, for God’s sake. Anything could happen.”
“Why, because I’m walking on such a deserted strip of sand?” I faced him, gesturing to all the beach-goers.
“You don’t have to be alone to have something bad happen.”
“I know,” I said conceitedly, because it was the bad things that made you end up alone.
“Look, you can walk off and throw your little tantrum, but I’m going to follow you wherever you go.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Across the carpet of sunburned backs and multi-coloured towels, the salty, plastic smell of sunscreen wafted between us, and even in the brightness of the day, the compassion in his eyes shone out like a beacon among the darkest sea. The last of my dummy-spit released with a huff, and I dropped my hands to my sides.
Damn him and his kind eyes.
All I wanted then was to fall back into his arms—back to where we stood before—before I yelled at him and told him he knows nothing. “Mike, I—”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head and launched forward into a half run, sweeping me into him. “You don't need to say a word, baby. Okay?”
The hot sun beat down, making sweat trickle down my temples, but I closed my eyes and held my breath in the intense squeeze of his arms—a hold so tight I knew he never wanted to let go, knew he loved me. Not like he loved the ocean or the sunset, but like the way I loved David. True, honest, and intense love.
“I’m sorry, Ara. I know you love David, and I know he loves you. I shouldn’ta said those things. It’s just—” He brushed my hair from my face, then lifted my locket for a second. “I love you, too. I really do. I love the way your eyes turn deep blue when you’re sad; the way you bite your lip when you play piano; I love your smile and the way you view the world, Ara. I absolutely love everything about you.” He paused and his eyes darted over my face. “I just wish you could understand that—wish you’d forgive me for making the biggest mistake I ever made—and love me back.”