Chapter 11 – Kenna-Present
Chapter Eleven
CRAMP IT LIKE IT’S HOT
KENNA-PRESENT
It’s Friday night, and I should be out having fun, right?
It’s the end of the week. The weekend is finally here, and I should be living in the moment.
But I feel like a truck has run me over.
I am curled up in a ball on the couch, clutching a heating pad to my lower belly like it’s the only thing keeping me together.
I can almost hear the distant laughter and music from some party I’m not at, a cruel reminder of the life that’s moving on without me tonight.
Cohen’s staying with my parents for the weekend, which is good because, honestly, I don’t like him seeing me like this.
My period always hits me like a freight train.
I can feel the tightness in my lower belly, the cramps that twist and knot so deep they make my whole body ache. Every breath feels like it’s dragging me down into a fog of exhaustion. My limbs feel heavy, like I’m made of lead, and all I want is to disappear under my covers and sleep for days.
But that’s not realistic. Life doesn’t wait for me to feel better.
Rina and Natalie have been texting me all day, sending a flood of emojis and persistent messages.
“Come out! We miss you!” “Just a couple of hours!” “You deserve a break!” They don’t know how much it hurts, how much this pain steals my energy and makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
But they’re my friends, and I know they just want me to have a good time.
I stare at their texts, my thumb hovering over the keyboard, my head pounding in sync with the ache in my stomach. Why do I have to be the one who always cancels? The one who disappears when things get tough? I want to be there for them. I want to be myself again.
Eventually I give in, pop a couple of my prescription meds, hoping the dull ache will at least ease enough for me to pretend. I let them drag me into the bathroom to get ready.
I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for them.
I force myself to get dolled up, even though every fiber of my body screams at me to stay put.
The moment I slip into my outfit—high-waisted mom jeans and a black bodysuit—there’s a strange armor that settles over me.
The tightness of the jeans, the snug fit of the bodysuit, they almost feel like a shield.
Maybe if I just cover myself up and make it look like I’m okay, no one will see the storm raging inside.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and almost don’t recognize the girl staring back. She looks confident, carefree, a little sexy, but underneath it all, she’s barely holding it together. My eyes are the giveaway. They’re tired, and the forced smile doesn’t quite reach them.
I take a shaky breath and grab my purse. I don’t want to do this, but I’m going. They need me. And maybe I need them, too.
Loud music, dim lights, the smell of bodies pressed together, and the sticky feeling under my feet of spilled beer are my welcome to the bar. Yet tonight, the usual place where I allow myself to let loose feels all wrong. The music is too loud, the lights too bright, the smell overwhelming.
I keep checking my phone, half hoping Cohen will text me. But I know he won’t—he’s with my parents, and I’m miles away in this chaotic bubble that doesn’t fit me right now.
I find Rina and Natalie in our usual booth. They smile when they see me, but I can tell they’re worried. Their eyes flicker to my face like they want to ask if I’m okay but don’t want to push.
We order the usual—appetizers and gummy bear shots, our ridiculous specialty. I try to focus on the conversations, the way their voices sound like a lifeline. I laugh when they joke. I force smiles, but inside I feel like I’m sinking deeper with every passing second.
That’s when I see him.
Cole.
He’s sitting at a table across the room with Josh and a couple of other guys.
I hadn’t expected to see him tonight, especially not here.
I haven’t seen him all week. Not since Cohen and I ran into him at Reuben’s restaurant.
He’s laughing at something one of the guys says, but his eyes.
..they keep drifting toward me. Not subtly, either.
It’s like he’s watching me, like he knows I’m here, like he’s waiting for something.
I can feel the heat of his gaze even from across the room, and a strange flutter starts in my stomach. It’s not just a longing, though. There’s something more to it, like he knows.
He knows something’s wrong with me.
I quickly turn my attention back to Rina and Natalie, but I can’t stop glancing at him.
Even from far away, it’s obvious he’s still looking at me.
He looks concerned, even if he’s trying to hide it.
The way his brows furrow, the small way he shifts in his seat—it’s like he’s trying to figure something out.
After a while, the pain in my stomach fades enough to where I think I can pretend everything’s fine. Maybe I’ll be okay. But then, like clockwork, it hits me again—hard. The kind of pain that makes my breath hitch, the kind that knots in my stomach and spreads down my legs.
I feel like I’m going to crumble, but I can’t let it show. Not here. Not now.
I stand up quickly, trying not to show how badly I’m hurting.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I mutter, not really waiting for a response.
I can’t even look at them, because I know they’ll just ask if I’m okay, and the answer is always the same. No, I’m not okay.
As soon as I’m alone in the bathroom, the pain takes over again. I don’t even make it to a stall before I collapse onto the cold tile floor, cradling my body in a ball.
It’s all too much. The cramps, the exhaustion, the loneliness. The tears well up in my eyes without warning, but I force myself to stay quiet. I don’t want to make a scene.
I hear the bathroom door creak open, and I hold my breath, hoping whoever it is will just leave me alone.
“Sorry, I’ll move,” I say into the empty room, my voice trembling with embarrassment. There’s nothing more humiliating than being caught in this state, especially in public.
But then I hear his voice.
“Kenna?”
I glance up, and of course it’s him. Of course it’s Cole.
His eyes soften with something that makes my heart ache. He crouches down in front of me, looking like he’s already figured out exactly what’s wrong. His voice is gentle, almost as soft as his touch.
“I’m right here, Sunshine. Your cramps?”
I nod, the weight of the pain and emotion pressing down on me until I’m almost gasping.
Without a word, Cole scoops me into his arms like I’m made of glass. He sits on the floor with me in his lap, and I bury my face in his chest, the tears finally breaking free.
The sobs I’ve been holding in all night spill out, and Cole doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just holds me, rubbing my back in slow, steady circles, stroking my hair with a tenderness I didn’t know I needed.
His presence grounds me, tethers me to something solid when my body feels like it’s falling apart.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I manage to speak through my tears. “I…I went to the doctor,” I say, my voice shaky. “I have dysmenorrhea. It’s the reason the cramps are so bad.”
Cole’s eyes search mine, and I can see the concern in them. “I’m sorry, Sunshine,” he whispers.
I shake my head, not wanting him to feel guilty. “I hate that you have to see me like this,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s not embarrassing,” he says firmly, lifting my chin gently so I have to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Kenna. I’m not going anywhere.”
The pain is still unbearable, but in Cole’s arms, it feels a little easier to breathe. My body is numb with exhaustion, and the weight of it all feels like it’s pressing down on my chest. With Cole here, I don’t have to fight it alone.
I don’t want to be here anymore, in the bar, with the loud music and the stares of people I don’t even know. It’s too much.
I want to go home.
And it’s not just the physical exhaustion.
It’s the weight of pretending that’s become unbearable.
Right now, I have no energy left to fake being “fine.” I’m done forcing smiles to cover the pain, done with empty conversations when all I can feel is the relentless aching in my body.
Let them see I’m not okay. I don’t have the strength to care anymore.
The weight of the realization crashes into me harder than I expected. I need Cole. He’s always been the one who sees my flaws without turning away. The only person I’ve ever trusted enough to let all the cracks show.
He’s already standing up, gathering me into his arms again like it’s nothing. I cling to him automatically, my hands wrapped around his neck as he supports me effortlessly.
“Let’s get you home,” Cole murmurs in my ear, and his voice is so calm, so soothing. It’s a voice that makes me feel like everything will be okay, even though I know it might not be. But I’m willing to believe him in this moment because I need to.
I close my eyes as he walks, and for a second, I let myself drift, the rhythm of his steps a kind of lullaby, the faint hum of conversation and music from the bar fading into the distance.
When we step outside, the cool night air hits me, and it’s like it sharpens everything, bringing me back to reality. But the sharpness is a relief in its own way. It’s a reminder that I’m here, with him, and that I’m not alone in this.
Cole’s grip on me is firm but gentle, like he’s afraid to hold me too tightly, as if he’s worried he might hurt me. I wish he would hold me tighter. I wish I could just melt into him and forget everything.
It feels good to be carried, to be cared for. Not to have to be the strong one for once.
“Almost there, Sunshine,” Cole whispers, glancing down at me with a quiet, reassuring smile.