The Bruise You Lick

Two Months Ago

There were some bruises you didn't want to go away.

Lea had one on the inside of her left thigh. A faint fingerprint-shaped bloom she pressed her own fingers against while standing under the weak, buzzing light of the dorm bathroom. It made her wince. Made her breathe a little deeper. Made her remember.

Zayne had left that mark.

She didn't ask him to. She didn't ask him for anything.

But he always gave her something to remember him by.

They weren't together. Not officially. Not publicly. Maybe not even really.

They weren't dating, and he never took her out.

There were no good morning texts, no "thinking of you"s, no conversations that didn't end in her legs shaking and her throat sore from biting back everything she wanted to say.

But when Zayne called, she answered. When he knocked, she opened the door.

And when he touched her, she didn't stop him.

Because wanting him hurt less than wanting to be wanted.

Now

"Didn't you wear that hoodie yesterday?"

Lea looked up from her laptop, eyebrows raised. Kendra stood at the foot of their accounting lecture hall, dressed in a crisp blazer and tight black jeans, coffee in one hand, judgment in the other.

"I did," Lea replied, without looking away from her screen. "You wore that personality last semester. Didn't think we were repeating things."

A few heads turned. Kendra rolled her eyes and walked away.

Lea went back to pretending she could focus. Her spreadsheet was half-done, her brain chewing on numbers she didn't care about. She hadn't eaten breakfast. Or dinner the night before. Her body felt hollowed out, like someone had scooped the insides of her out and left a girl-shaped shell in its place.

Her period was late. And she was too scared to buy a test.

Not because of what it might say.

But because she wasn't sure what she wanted it to say.

Kendra sat four rows down with her new crew—two other law students and a sociology major who wore $400 boots and fake-smiled like it paid rent.

Lea remembered when Kendra used to sit next to her. When they'd share gum and eye-rolls. When they talked about moving off-campus together and throwing a "zero men allowed" party. When Kendra called her "the only real one left."

That was before Devin.

Before Lea kissed him.

Before she let him slip a hand up her shirt at a party while Kendra was in the bathroom.

He wasn't even Kendra's boyfriend.

But he was her territory.

And Lea trespassed.

After class, Andre caught up to her, swaying his hips and sipping an iced chai with three pumps of gossip.

"Bitch. I know you heard that shade she threw."

"She barely said anything."

"That's the point. Kendra's gone quiet-villain on you. She doesn't yell. She plots."

Lea gave him a tired look.

"Did you sleep?" he asked, suddenly serious.

Lea's silence answered for her.

Andre sighed. "You want me to walk you to counseling again?"

"No," she said quickly. "I'm fine."

"You're lying. But okay."

He kissed the top of her head and walked away, muttering something about setting fire to law majors.

Lea ducked into the library bathroom. Locked the stall.

Sat on the toilet fully clothed.

She stared at the ceiling.

Counted the cracks in the tile.

Breathed.

Her stomach cramped. Deep, low. Not enough to be reassuring. Not enough to bleed.

She opened her phone. Checked her cycle tracker. Closed it again.

She hadn't bought the test yet. She didn't want to do it alone. But she couldn't ask anyone for help—not Andre, not Samira, and definitely not Luca.

Luca.

She hadn't seen him all week. Not really. He'd been quiet in class, buried in his robotics project. She missed him more than she was willing to admit. Not in a romantic way. Not yet.

Just in that safe, steady presence kind of way.

Luca didn't touch her.

He asked if she was okay and didn't press when she said she wasn't.

He listened when she said nothing.

And he never made her feel like she owed him softness she didn't have.

Later that day, she found a sticky note on her locker.

"Courtyard. Lunch. Don't make me come find you. — L."

It was taped next to a protein bar and a travel-size pack of Advil.

She didn't even realize she was smiling until someone walked past and said, "Damn, someone's in love."

Lea flushed. Shoved the note in her pocket. Ate the bar in three bites.

Luca was sitting cross-legged on a blanket in the grass when she got there. Hoodie sleeves pulled up, hair tied back in a messy bun, glasses slipping down his nose as he read something on his laptop.

"I'm late," she said.

"You're always late," he replied without looking up.

"You're a nerd."

"You're not denying you skipped breakfast again."

She dropped down next to him, letting the sun warm her skin for the first time in days.

He handed her a Tupperware of chicken and rice. She stared at it like it was a diamond ring.

"Is this… cooked?"

"I'm an engineer, not a caveman."

She took a bite. Then another. Then nearly cried.

"You okay?" he asked softly, finally glancing at her.

She hesitated. Swallowed.

"Do you ever feel like your body isn't… yours?"

Luca's eyes didn't blink away. "Yeah," he said simply.

Lea didn't ask what he meant.

He didn't ask what she meant.

And it was the first time in weeks she felt like she could breathe.

That night, Zayne texted.

"U up?"

She stared at it for a long time. Fingers trembling.

Then she typed:

"Come over."

He arrived ten minutes later. Hoodie on. Swagger turned up.

She opened the door. Didn't smile.

He didn't say hi. Just walked in. Kissed her neck.

Bit her shoulder.

"I missed this," he said.

She didn't answer.

He stripped her slowly. Like he was unwrapping something dangerous. His fingers were familiar. His mouth—more fire than affection.

He pushed inside her without a word. No condom. No questions.

And Lea let him.

Because sometimes pain was easier to survive than silence.

Afterward, he didn't hold her.

Didn't stay.

Just zipped up. Checked his phone.

"You good?" he asked.

Lea pulled the blanket over her chest and nodded.

Zayne left.

She didn't sleep.

Across campus, someone stood under the oak tree.

Watching.

Waiting.

Lea didn't see him this time.

But he saw her.

And he whispered her name like a prayer he wasn't allowed to say out loud.