Selfie With The Mafia

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Ava

I was tapping my foot impatiently, my nerves getting anxious with each second the clock ticked.

"Faster, Aaron," I muttered and he hummed, firing the ignition as the car roared to life. I'd thought this speed, this roar, this screech of the car would calm me a little like it always did, but this time, it didn't work. All I could think was my best friend.

He was hurting himself.

That sentence repeated continuously in my ears, reminding me of my mistake.

I shouldn't have left him.

I sighed. I didn't have any choice. I was happy, very happy but it has already ruined. I wondered why he was hurting himself, something must have been off, I had to take care of it.

I felt a hand on my knee, stopping the tap of my foot. I fell back in my seat, closing my eyes, I let my senses to calm by his touch. Aaron gave me a squeeze, that gesture was what made me to calm a bit.

What once cars did, has now being done by Aaron.

"Why is this happening?" I asked to myself which seemingly was heard by him. His gaze fell on me before focusing on the drive.

"Everything's going to be okay, tigrotto. Your friend will be alright." He assured. I wish if I could predict the same but sadly, the thoughts of seeing him hurt made me uneasy to the point where I could break myself.

After all, it was my fault.

He squeezed my knee again, "I don't want you to stress too much," he said, making me to bit back a smile that threatened to creep on my lips.

"Why are you smiling?" He looked confused.

Guess I failed to hide.

"Nothing," I lied, he was already making me feel giddy with one simple sentence. But damn me, if it was Aaron who said that, it wasn't simple, not even a little bit.

He eyebrows knitted together but he chose to ignore, even though he knew I was lying.

He always knew.

When the car came to an halt, I quickly unbuckled the seat belt and kissed Aaron's cheek, hugging him tightly. He hugged back, his arms wrapping on my waist.

There was a kind of warmth in his embrace which was so welcoming. I loved the way he was holding me.

Firm yet gentle.

Easy yet secure.

His scent enveloped me and all of a sudden I didn't want to go. I wanted this, I needed this. But then, I remember that my friend needed me and my face fell.

Why was it so hard? Is this how Tristan felt every time when he has to leave Clara?

I cleared my throat, starting to feel disappointed. My voice was low and hesitant, "I'll see you...later?" It was more like a question.

He nodded, "Later."

. . . .

As soon as I entered Drake's home, I was met by Diana, a horror expression covering her flawless face. I could tell she didn't have good sleep from the past weeks. She looked old.

Her gaze fell down and she murmured, "Lorraine left but He is still not opening the door." There was so much sadness laced in that tone of her, I felt suffocated.