𝔸𝕧𝕒

While waiting for Jen to tear herself away from the hot bartender, I tossed back a couple more drinks. I'm definitely going to regret it tomorrow, but right now the pain has dulled and I prefer to be drunk if I'm going to have to deal with Mike's attitude tonight.

Mike reluctantly agreed to drive me home, making it pretty clear that it was a burden to him but he said he didn't want me to have to call an Uber.

"So are you going to ignore me the whole ride home?" I ask.

"I'm not ignoring you," he says.

"Okay, well, you're not talking and you ditched me to play pool all night. Plus you have that pissed off look on your face."

"I ditched you? I'm pretty sure the only reason I came there was for you. And then you start flirting with these guys that you mysteriously seem to know and it comes out that you had a hospital appointment that you didn't tell me about—I felt totally blindsided by the whole thing!"

As much as I want to be irritated I have to admit that it probably did feel bad from his side.

"I only know them because I showed one of them how to find his friend's hospital room. And I wasn't flirting with them. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the appointment; I honestly didn't think you would have wanted to know.

He sighs, still staring ahead at the road.

"I promise. Nothing was going on. There's no conspiracy."

His shoulders seem to relax a little, as though just maybe he hears what I'm saying.

"Okay," he says begrudgingly.

After another stretch of silence, he lets out another sigh and says, "So what was this appointment for?"

"Just another round of tests. They did an MRI and took more blood."

"And? What did they find?"

"It's too quick to tell. I think it's mostly to eliminate a few worst-case-scenario things. I doubt they'll come back positive."

"Worst case scenario? Like what?" he asks, the concern in his voice rising.

"Um, brain tumors, cancer, the big dangerous things. I think they're just trying to cover their asses."

"Mmm..."

His face is stern, agitated. His lips pursed in a tight line.

"What?" I ask.

"It's just interesting, that's all." The way he says it implies his attitude is back.

"What about it?" I ask.

"I just... I didn't realize this was so serious."

"I don't know... I hope not. I just want to find out what's going on at this point. If it's serious I guess I'd rather know than be ignorant. I just need an answer."

I look out the window, watching as we pass one streetlight after another along the suburban, tree-lined road.

"I just wish I had known before," he says, letting out a sigh. "I wish you had told me."

"What do you mean?" I ask. "I am telling you."

"I mean before all..." he pauses to gesture between us, "this."

He can't possibly be saying what I think he's saying. He wishes that he knew how sick I was before our relationship because he wouldn't have dated me?

No. Hell no. He doesn't mean that.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask.

"I mean I wish I had been able to make an informed decision. When we started dating, I didn't know you were sick. You didn't tell me you had all these problems."

My heart suddenly drops.

"Why?" I ask. "Do you not want to be with me?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm already in love with you. It's done now."

"Wow, how romantic," I say, my voice becoming more and more full of anger.

"I mean, I love you now so whatever. I'm just saying I would have liked the choice."

"You would have chosen not to love me?" I ask.

"I dunno... Maybe..." he says.

I'm angry. I'm hurt. All of these feelings of being broken come bubbling to the surface. Nobody wants the sick girl. No—not sick—broken. People feel bad for sick people. A sick person has a name for the thing that makes their body betray them. They put a label on it and people love them and take care of them and wish them well. When your body aches for no reason to the point of exhaustion, when unexplained dizzy spells and nausea interrupt your life, and every test comes back negative, you're not sick. You're just broken.

I can't tell if I feel like throwing up because of the alcohol I overindulged in tonight, because of the things Mike is saying to me, or because my stupid body is yet again failing me.

My head is spinning and all my insecurities are laid right there in front of me.

He's right. Nobody wants this. Nobody wants me.

"Yeah," he says after a long pause. "I probably would have."

"Fuck you!" I scream at him.

"Oh that's real charming, Ava," he scoffs.

"I wasn't aiming for charming. I was aiming for FUCK YOU!" I scream.

"Hey, whoa! Calm down. I'm with you, aren't I? I love you now. I'm already in this."

"Well, allow me to let you out of this then," I say, my voice dripping with rage.

I don't care if I'm broken or unlovable or whatever the fuck I am; I'm so pissed and I'll be damned if I let Mike see me cry over the cold, heartless words coming out of his mouth right now.

"I don't want to be let out, that's what I'm saying. I'm attached to you now."

"Oh, well if you're attached," I say with sarcasm. "Pull over."

"Ava," he says in a serious tone. "I'm not letting you out to walk alone. It's like, another three miles to your apartment."

"Let. Me. Out."

"No," he says. "You're being immature right now. Let me finish driving you home and we can talk about this."

I'm furious and I feel tears rising in my eyes.

"Let me the fuck out right now, Mike, or so help me I will jump out of this moving car!"

"Jesus Christ. Fuck. Fine."

He pulls over with a swift motion. I swing open the door and jump out.

"Oh, come on, Ava. Get back in the car, please? I love you."

"Go fuck yourself," I say with my middle finger in the air as I walk away.

Knowing Mike, he's going to follow me home, or attempt to coax me back in the car. I just want to be alone but I don't know how to get him to leave.

His tires screech against the pavement as he turns his car around and peels off in the other direction.

So much for that theory. He definitely just left.

The tears suddenly fall out of my eyes all at once, as if the dam has suddenly broken. I erupt into a heavy sob.

After ten minutes of walking, the ache in my muscles that was dulled by the alcohol is back with a fury. Everything is throbbing. Am I going to have to call an Uber to pick me up with tear-stained cheeks on a random section of road just to drive me the last couple miles to my apartment? Fucking great.

I reach for my phone, but find nothing but the empty pocket of my jeans.

Fuck. I left it in Mike's car.

ℤ𝕒𝕟𝕖

I was feeling a bit better after Kieran paired off with that girl for the evening, but now that I'm driving back these negative feelings are rushing back.

Why do I care this much?

I don't know this girl, so why am I wrapped up in her? Why was I desperate to get Kieran to go for her mate? Why did I want so badly to make him go away so I could have her to myself?

If I didn't know better, I'd say this was exactly what Siren venom does. That intense obsession, that craving for someone. A deep, all-encompassing attraction that takes over your brain, forcing you to make decisions you'd never make in your right mind.

The only problem is that Siren venom doesn't work on Sirens.

This feeling is equal parts intoxicating and nauseating. I've had passion before, maybe even love once or twice. But never with a human, and never—never—this instantaneously.

Her grey eyes flash into my mind.

Fuck. I'm so screwed.

I shake out my shoulders and toss my head side to side in an attempt to refocus. I turn and watch as the traffic lights ahead all light up green, undoubtedly due to it being 2 am and my car being the only one on the road.

I look ahead toward the park and see a figure walking in the distance. My eyes focus on what seems to be purple hair.

Ava.

Fuck, no way. Nope. I've lost the plot and I'm full-on hallucinating this woman now. As I pull closer, I swear it looks more and more like her.

Why would she be walking along the road in the middle of the night? I thought she went home with her boyfriend.

Did something happen? Is she in trouble?

My mind immediately flashes to the worst case scenario.

Did he hurt her? Did she have to run from him?

I'm instantly filled with rage, my blood boiling beneath my skin. I hear a loud crack and look down to see a three-inch chunk of steering wheel in my hand. Fuck.

I try to regain composure and slowly pull up next to her, rolling down my passenger side window.

"Ava?" I call. "Are you okay? Do you need a ride?"

She turns to me and I see her flushed red face, her eyes teary and raw.

I'm going to kill that bastard.

"Heyyy," she says, her voice weak and heartbroken. "I um... I'm okay. I just... it's a long story. I lost my phone and my house is close so I was just walking back but I'm just... I... yeah I'm fine."

I can't stand to see her like this. She looks completely gutted—devastated beyond measure. I'm not about to leave her alone.

"It's no trouble, love," I say. "You said your house is close, anyway, right? It's really not a problem."

"Oh, um... I..." she stutters. She looks at me with uneasy eyes. After running into her twice already today, I most-definitely look like a stalker.

"How 'bout I let you borrow my phone then?" I suggest. "You can call your mates or order an Uber?"

I reach across to the window and hold out my phone. I have no intention of letting her call a ride, but I need to get her closer.

Alright, yeah now I'm realizing why she might think I'm a creep.

She reluctantly walks to the car and grabs for my phone. As our hands touch, I stare into her grey eyes.

"It's safe to let me take you home," I say.

She pauses for a moment, then releases my phone from her grasp.

"Actually," she says, "yeah if you wouldn't mind, I could really use a ride home."

I reach over and open the passenger side and she hops in. She gives me a little half smile and mentions her flat is up ahead in a couple of miles.

"So what happened?" I ask. "I mean, you don't have to tell me. I don't mean to pry." I'm not used to having to ask for something politely, but I don't feel comfortable charming her with my powers. I want our interactions to be genuine. I want her to want to tell me.

"Well, let's just say you may have been right about Mike being an 'arse.'"

The way she put air quotes around arse makes me chuckle, but then I consider the implications of what she just said and my rage returns.

"Did he hurt you?" I ask through a clenched jaw.

"No, nothing like that. We just had a fight."

"And he left you on the side of the road?!"

"No, no. I mean, he did—but I explicitly insisted he did."

The thought of it makes me smirk a bit. I imagine her slamming the door and stomping off in a fury. That suits her. I wonder how he set her off.

"What did he do for you to feel that way?" I ask.

"He just said something shitty. It's not a big deal, I just really didn't want to be in the car with him."

"So, are you two broken up?"

Yesss. Brilliant.

"Maybe. I don't know," she says softly. "We kind of left it in a weird place. Oh, turn here."

I turn down her street.

"That's me, the brownish-grey building." She points to a small apartment building and I pull up.

I step out of the car and walk around to open her door. I offer my hand to help her up and the moment we touch I'm lost again in her.

Something's not right. In the quiet, I can hear her heart beating, blood traveling through her veins, oxygen filling her lungs. But there's a wrongness to it that I can't quite pinpoint. As soon as she stands up she wobbles and falls, my arms catching her before she hits the ground.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she said, almost as if she's convincing herself.

"I think you've had too much to drink tonight," I say. "You need to rest. Here, I'll walk you to your door."

𝔸𝕧𝕒

Zane carefully leads me up the steps to my apartment. It's so embarrassing that I just practically fainted over there. It's hard to say if it's a dizzy spell or if I'm just drunk. He certainly seemed to think it was just the alcohol. Maybe that's because to him, I'm not broken. I'm a normal girl and everything's fine. I'm not the girl nobody wants. I'm not damaged. I'm not a burden.

The feeling of his hand on my lower back ignites my nerves as he gently guides me up the stairs. In the light of day he's handsome, but up close, shrouded in a haze of alcohol and emotion, he's incredible. I want to be the normal girl he sees right now. One that someone would want.

I grab my keys and unlock my door. I turn back to him, a subtle smile on his face.

I could be that girl. Just for this moment.

I reach my hand to his cheek and he seems startled—anxious almost—but doesn't pull away.

"Ava, I..." he says. He looks like he's trying to express something, struggling to find the words. It's as if he's having a battle inside his head.

I lean in closer.

In an instant, his lips crash into mine and I'm overcome with a sense of euphoria. Tingling spreads from my lips to the base of my spine and my whole body feels relaxed.

His kiss becomes more intense, more urgent—almost desperate. He pushes me into the house and slams the door behind us. My body collides with the wall as he sinks his hands into my hips and presses his chest to mine.

He scoops me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses my neck.

His eyes again seem an intense, radiant green as they meet mine.

I lean to kiss him and he freezes, pulling me off him in a sudden swift motion. I don't know why he's stopping now, but I'm not ready for this to end.

I try to pull him closer but he recoils, quickly putting the room's width of distance between us.

"Sorry, Ava," he says through shaky breaths. "I-... I can't."

"You can't what?" I say, but as the words leave my lips he's out the door. The sounds of his footsteps echo through the hall as he practically sprints down the stairs.

I'm shocked, hurt, upset. But I also feel a peace that I haven't felt in a long time.

That is, until Mike pops into my head.

Oh crap. Mike.