The Color of Her Lips

Chapter Fifteen

Ariana

My back is leaning against the door, I'm sitting on the ground, hugging my knees and sobbing. Tears are one of the things I hate more.

Someone knocks on the door. "Ariana, open the door," it's Michael's voice.

I shake my head, even though he can't see me. "Go away!" I yell, but my voice breaks.

"Why? You can tell me what's wrong," he says.

"No!" Because I can't trust you anymore, you're his brother!

"Ari...let me in, please," he begs. "I want to be there for you, I want to help you."

"Yeah, like you wanted to help me with my business. Oh, fuck you, Michael."

He slams a hand on the door, scaring me. "I genuinely want to help you, Ari!" His voice becomes louder and louder as my breath becomes heavier and heavier.

I lower my dress down to my waist, remaining only in my bra. As tears stream down my cheeks, I run my fingers on the scar between my breasts. It doesn't hurt physically, but mentally...it does.

"I don't want to be in the same room as you. I can't believe I even just let you touch me!"

I don't hear him anymore, he doesn't say anything. Maybe he's gone, maybe he gave up.

I get up from the floor, my legs shaking, and lie down on the bed. My tears have dried up by now, but I feel like there're more to shed.

I close my eyes and try to focus on...nothing. Right now I just want to sink into the bed and disappear.

But just when I was starting to calm down, here he is, walking into the room. And I'm still in my bra and dress rolled down at my waist.

I immediately cover myself with my hands and sit up. "Michael, get out of here!"

He closes the door behind himself and starts approaching me. "Ariana—"

I get up and push him backwards with one hand. "I don't want you there with me!"

He doesn't even stumble. He frowns as I try to push him, but he remains planted to the ground.

"Get out!" I yell, and my voice breaks. I don't want him to see my tears.

Michael takes my wrist and stops me. "Why?! What did I do to you? You freaked out all of a sudden!" he says. "Could explain me why?"

I swallow, trying to hold back the tears. "No," I mutter.

He observes me for a moment. He takes in my swollen eyes, my smeared makeup...my breasts. He takes my other wrist, the one that's covering my scar. He moves it slowly and gently, without me even fighting. He sees my scar but doesn't say a thing, he just looks at it, as if to determine if it's a scar after a boob job or something else.

Then, his amber eyes meet mine. "Who did this to you?" he asks.

I lower my eyes. "No one, it's because of a boob job," I lie. I don't want to tell him the truth.

He takes my face in his hands and forces me to look at him. "Bullshit. You wouldn't be hiding it like that."

I just want to cry, I want to...I want...

I can't hold back anymore. I burst into tears, and Michael wraps his arms tightly around me. I shudder and sob as he strokes my bare back, trying to soothe me.

"Shh, baby, I'm here," he whispers. "You can trust me."

I don't care that he called me baby, maybe I should just trust him. He cares about me after all, but I'm scared anyway. What if he's exactly like his brother?