Moving On

I haven't been able to get ahold of Doctor Delaney all week. She missed our usual Tuesday appointment and I've texted her multiple times since then with no response.

Of all the times for her to go awol, now is the worst. I need to talk to her, get it all off my chest. Besides since Dastan and I had that fight I've been having so many more nightmares, all of them memories. But it's been nothing significant so far, just random conversations that have happened over the last three years, nights spent with Emma, working on projects and investigating… at least none of these memories are bloody or involve strangers screaming.

I still can't make sense of those ones but I figure now that I'm able to access more of them it'll be easier to put the pieces together. Hopefully, soon I'll be able to remember more than just bits and pieces. Honestly, I was expecting to have another episode this week, with how much I've been stressing over not being able to see Doctor Delaney and the whole Dastan thing. I'm kind of freaking out.

Stepping off the elevator on Emma's floor, she and Connor are waiting for me in the lobby. He and Theo have a date tonight so he's dropping us off at Haider's for our usual Friday Night Dinner.

My stomach twists with nerves, I don't know if I'm ready to face Dastan again, but ready or not I'll have to bite the bullet soon enough. The drive there flies by, even with the city traffic we get there in no time at all. My heart pounds as we walk through the front door, their voices carrying to us from the kitchen as we approach.

The first person I see as I walk through the door is Dastan, he's sitting at the counter with a book in front of him. His navy blue sweater rolled up to his elbows and that little hint of his tattoo poking over the collar. He looks good, it makes my heart ache. I want to go to him, wrap my arms around his waist and bury my head in his chest. I know I can't do any of those things so I plop myself down at the dinning room table in the seat next to Haider.

I feel his eyes on me more than once but every time I look up he's reading, I feel like I'm going crazy being this close to him and not being able to touch him. Needless to say dinner is a miserable affair.

Emma tries her hardest to distract me, to get me to behave like a sociable human being but it's pointless. I pick at my food, barely hearing a word anyone says and more than once I have to ask them to repeat themselves because I'm so lost in my poem world.

It isn't until we've all had desert that I notice the hickey in Dastan's neck, a fresh one. And considering it's been a week since we've done anything together I know I didn't put it there. My stomach sinks like a boulder and I can't help the way the smile falls off my face.

Excusing myself from the table I scurry upstairs and into the bathroom sitting the door behind me and leaning against the sink. My reflection looks sallow, washed out and paler than usual. My eyes are flat, dazed and I've apparently been cheating on my lip all night because it's red and swollen. I'm a mess, I need to get a grip because I can't let this affect me and especially not this visibly.

We can't keep doing this, I need to move on. I need to let him move on, and from the looks of it that's what he wants too. As I watch my reflection, the door swings open beside me, and I can only stare as Dastan steps into the bathroom and locks the door behind himself.

With wide eyes I watch as he leans back against the door and crosses his arms, examining me as I hunch over the sink.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice quiet in the small space. He doesn't respond immediately, just raises a brow in a quizzical fashion, his mouth twisting down in the corners.

"Tell me why is it that I can't seem to stay away form you." He says, although it sounds like a question. If it is, I definitely don't have an answer for him. We watch each other in the mirror for a prolonged second while he waits for my reply.

When it doesn't come, he huffs a harsh breath and brushes a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands roughly before bringing his eyes back to mine.

"It's ridiculous, you know that right?"

My brow furrows in confusion, I think I know what he means but I can't be sure. Is he referring to us but I don't get why he thinks it's ridiculous. "What?"

"I shouldn't still want to be with you, all you ever do is break my heart and even though I know this I still can't help myself." He tells me, dropping his hands to his sides, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he works his jaw.

"Is now really the best time for this conversation." I say, turning so that my back is to the mirror and I can properly look at him. It's easier this way, to not be so aware of his every move and how much this is affecting him too.

"No," he agrees, taking a step toward me and I suddenly realize my mistake because I've effectively boxed myself in between him and the sink. "But there's never a good time for this conversation, Kiera." He punctuates the sentence by taking another deliberate step toward me.

His eyes are dark, his a expression a thunder cloud. The air around us seems to crackle with electricity, a small spark could start a blaze. My breath hitches in my chest as my eyes track his movements. His slow, calculated steps that cage me in, I'm not entirely sure I want an escape.

"Dastan?" The question leaves my lips on a puff of breath, my lungs constricting and making it difficult to do anything outside of breathing.

He hums a low, throaty sound in response coming to a stop before me. Eye never leaving mine, the night sky meeting the sea, as he reaches out and grabs my jaw, his fingers digging into my cheeks as he crashes his mouth against mine.

It's hard, and demanding and nothing like how he usually kisses me and for some reason I prefer it this way. I'd rather feel like this were somehow different that way I don't have to acknowledge the actual feeling behind the way he usually kisses me.

His hands fall to my thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and he makes a irritated growling sound as if he's been thinking about this way too much and he hates it, like it's my fault.

Roughly, he hoists me up onto the counter beside the sink, stepping between my parted thighs as his hands tangle themselves in my hair and he yanks, angling my head so he can deepen the kiss.

His hands move up my thighs pushing my dress up with it. Fingers tracing the lace edge of my underwear.

"They're going to notice you're gone," I tell him, as a way to convince him that this is a bad idea or maybe as a way to convince myself not to do this.

"Told them I wanted to talk to you about last weekend," he says distractedly as he trails kisses along my neck and jaw, nipping at my collarbone and then soothing it with his tongue.

"Your parents are downstairs," I try again, hoping to be the voice of reason. If all else fails, evoke the name of Haider. He seems to not care about the words leaving my mouth, as he undoes his belt. The heavy sound of his zipper being undone fills the bathroom a moment before he looks back at me.

"Well, then I guess you'll just have to be really, really quiet." He says, connecting our lips in a bruising kiss. His lips and tongue sliding over mine as he bunches my dress up around my waist. Stepping in closer, he rests his forehead against mine, we're both panting and I have to focus just to make sure I don't make a sound.

The last thing we need is Haider heating us through the door especially with his habit for interrupting our conversations.

He surges forward, and the sound that leaves my mouth would have embarrassed me at any other time, reaching up he covers my mouth with his hand to muffle the noise and all I hear is our heavy breathing and the sound of my back hitting the mirror with filled thuds.

It's so wrong, we shouldn't be doing this but sense has no place in the room right now. All that exists is him and I and the need to be closer to him.

When we get back downstairs, Haider and Zahra don't seem to notice anything amiss but the moment my eyes connect with Emma's I know she knows. She watches Dastan and I with keen eyes and there's something in her expression that causes Goosebumps to rise along my arms and legs.

I've known ma all my life so, I know that look never bodes well for me.