Page 91 of Sing For Us

We reach my bedroom and I never thought I’d be here with her again.

Chapter thirty-two

Lana

Noa enters the bedroom first, and he’s standing in the middle of the room.

“I need to take care of something downstairs. I’ll be up in about five minutes. Don’t you dare do anything.”

He moves past me and shuts the door behind me.

I cross my arms and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I look like shit, and my clothes are dirty.

“This asshole didn’t leave me any clothes. Fuck.”

I go to his closet and open it, expecting his clothes. To my surprise, I see women’s clothing.

My clothing. The clothing he bought me when we were…acquainted.

I place my hand over my mouth, and I’m having trouble breathing. He kept all of this? For who? Not for me, that’s for sure. Then my mind brings me to one conclusion: he’s keeping this for another woman.

A surge of jealousy hits me like a tidal wave. It ripples the walls of self-preservation I’ve tried so hard to build and keep up. Strong emotions, like jealousy, are a warrant things will go haywire if you don’t control yourself. The mere thought of another woman crawling over his body and giving him the pleasure only I can…

Whatever. I don’t care. He can do whatever he wants to.

Why the fuck am I getting emotional over a couple of pieces of clothing? He didn’t keep this for me.

He couldn’t.

This is weird. I am weird.

“Being weird means being cool,” I repeat that mantra over and over again until I calm down. I’ll never forget that teenager.

The only boy who didn’t make fun of me and understood me. I felt so safe with him, and years later, even though I don’t want to admit it, I felt safe with Noa as well. Things have changed, and whoever said that time heals everything—fuck you.

Time passes, but my hurt and trauma stay the same. The pain didn’t make me into the woman I am today; it just hurt me. Agony is a result of how you deal with unforeseen circumstances. Life won’t spare you, but it’s up to you how you react.

“Snap out of it,” I tell myself.

I grab the first things I see—a blue nightgown that will reach the top of my knees and some blue panties. I go to the bathroom and lock myself in there. Before I undress and hop into the shower, I call my team and explain everything. Senad reassures me he’ll hold the fort down and if I need anything, they’ll be here. Then I place a dreaded call to the hospital, asking if there are any updates on Emin. They tell me that he’s still on the ventilator and his condition hasn’t changed.

I hang up and get out of my clothes.

When I step in the shower and let the water hit my face and body, it instantly calms my nerves—it slows me down. The heat stops the tension and all the ache I am experiencing. Noa’s bathroom serves as a safe space, and the steady white noise of falling water combined with the heavy steam makes me feel secure. It also serves as a place where I can stare blankly at the wall without feeling judged.

A place where I can feel however I want to.

I grab one of Noa’s shower gels and lather it on my body. My hands skim over my breasts, and I’m transported back to when he broke into my apartment and told me to put my hands on the tiles. Without thinking, I do it. His voice is booming through my mind and ordering me to wrap my legs around his waist.

My right hand travels down the sides of my body, and I cup my pussy.

“Push one finger in while you chant my name over and over again.”

I’m so wet my finger glides inside and I’m imagining him on his knees. Eating me the fuck out.

“Noa. Noa. Noa.”