32. Aria
32
ARIA
I feel alive . Everything is like a gentle embrace.
The bass thumping in my chest. The thick air, a medley of sweat and smoke. The neon colors dancing around me, blurring the lines between reality and euphoria.
It’s like a wave, slowly enveloping me in its clutch, yet simultaneously hitting me with a rush.
It’s as if I’m experiencing it for the first time.
But it’s been many, many times. Too many times.
I’ve lost count how often I’ve felt this intoxicating sensation, where my worries melt away, and all that exists is me . Utterly and completely alive .
I weave through the pulsating crowd and head to the bar to get some water. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to stay hydrated.
I struggle to fish my wallet out of my clutch and pay for the water, swaying along with the music and sweaty bodies around me. After chugging almost the entire bottle, I turn around to find my friends.
And by friends, I mean the group of people I party with.
When I’m with them, it’s like slipping into a different skin. They see the version of me that’s always smiling, always ready with a joke or a laugh. But it’s a mask, a shield against the reality of my true self.
They don’t know the real me, and in a way, that’s a blessing. Because the real me is messy, full of doubts and insecurities—unhappy. I don’t want to burden them with my struggles or bring down the mood. So , I play the part, pretending to be carefree and problem-free.
It’s the same crew I met at the club when I snorted coke for the first time.
They’re not the kind of people you take home to meet your parents. They live for the moment, unapologetically reckless, and utterly irresistible in their own chaotic way. They’re the ones who make me forget, if only for a moment, the ache in my heart.
In their company, I can be someone lighter, someone who doesn’t carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.
But deep down, these girls shouldn’t be the ones I turn to. I’ve secluded myself from the people who really love me. The thought of my real friends and family seeing me, truly seeing me, paralyzes me. I’ve become a stranger to myself, unable to face my own reflection. So , what will they think of me?
These new friends are also leading me further away from the path I know I should be on.
That path definitely doesn’t include drinking every night and doing hard drugs. My life has taken a sharp turn for the worse. Every day seems to blend into the next, a haze of bad decisions and numbing escapes. I find myself using almost daily now, chasing a high that feels like it’s just out of reach. The nights are even worse; I drown my sorrows in alcohol, hoping to silence the chaos in my mind, if only for a little while. With each drink I get a small reprieve, a momentary silence to the constant noise. Every choice I make just pulls me further down this spiral, and I don’t know how to stop.
My trusted bottle of tequila stashed under my sink has turned into a mini bar. And there are bags of pills and coke scattered around my room in various hiding places.
I stand under the pulsating lights, looking for my friends somewhere in this sea of faces.
My heart sinks when I don’t see them, the isolation closing in around me like a vice. It’s a strange feeling, being surrounded by so many people yet feeling utterly alone.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, my eyes blurring.
Dimo: Where are you?
My dear brother.
He’s taken protectiveness to a whole new level, checking in more often, making sure I’m okay. He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s afraid of losing me. But sometimes his concern can be suffocating.
Dimo: I know you’re at the club, Ri.
Fuck . I forgot he has my location.
Me: Then why’d you ask?
Dimo: So that I wouldn’t have to check your location.
Me: Stop tracking me.
Dimo: Not until you stop hanging out with those girls.
There’s this unspoken understanding between us. He knows I’ve been struggling, though he doesn’t pry. And I don’t tell him about the drugs. It’s like an invisible barrier between us, this secret I’m keeping. I know he’s not stupid—he probably has suspicions.
Suddenly , my head spins. The room feels too bright, too loud, every sound reverberating painfully in my ears.
I clutch at my stomach, the queasiness rising with each passing moment. I need to find a bathroom.
I run until I reach a narrow hallway and stumble into the restroom, bracing myself on the sink. My breath comes in ragged gasps, each inhale a battle against the stifling weight tightening my chest.
In this moment, I couldn’t be more thankful to be alone.
I collapse against the wall, sliding down to the floor in a trembling heap.
My body feels like it’s been wrung out and left to dry. Every muscle aches.
Panic coils around me, squeezing tighter with every frantic beat of my heart. I press my palms against my temples, trying to steady the relentless pounding in my head. Hot tears sting my eyes, blurring the edges of my vision.
I’m trapped in this bathroom, trapped in my own mind. I want to scream.
I’m weak and drained, as if all my energy has been sapped. I know this will pass, but right now my body is betraying me, punishing me.
My hand shakes as I reach into my purse, fingers fumbling over the baggy inside. I tear it open and hastily scoop up a line. In one swift motion, I bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply, the burn searing through my sinuses.
For a moment, the panic recedes, replaced by a blissful numbness. And for a short while everything is okay. I’m okay.
Then , regret sinks in and the panic returns and I drown into the darkness.
I’m a disgusting human. I’m shameful.
I need to get out of here.
I reach for my phone again.
My eyes land on Dion’s name in my contacts as I look for Dimo’s . A name that both soothes and hurts me in equal measure.
I know it’s a bad idea, but my fingers still fumble over the screen.
Me: I need you.
I close my eyes and wait. At the same time, someone pushes the door open. I’m still seated on the gross floor of the bathroom, high off my ass. A very proud moment.
The woman who walks in barely offers me a glance before heading into one of the stalls.
Seconds later, my phone vibrates. I blink a couple times to focus.
Dion: Are you okay?
I squeeze my eyes shut again, the alcohol and cocaine making my brain tremble in my skull. There’s a ringing in my ears, a constant, high-pitched noise that adds to the assault.
My phone buzzes. He’s calling me.
I pick up.
“ Hello ,” I say, voice cracking.
“ Aria ,” Dion breathes out, and hearing his voice, under these circumstances, causes me to break. I start to sob into the phone.
“ Baby , it’s okay. Don’t cry. Please tell me you’re safe,” he murmurs.
I sniffle and swallow a big gulp. “ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” is all I’m able to say. “ I - I fucked up. I need you.”
I hear commotion on the other end of the line and a door shutting. “ I’m coming. Stay put.”
I don’t know how long passes, but I stay in the bathroom, head in between my knees, fighting the tremors that rack my body, skin sticky with sweat, until I hear a deep voice on the other side of the door, followed by a knock.
“ Aria , are you in there?”
I lift my head, wiping the tears off my face. “ Yes ,” I croak.
The door opens—and Dion is here, his tall figure towering over me.
He kneels. “ Astéri mou . What have you done?” His tone is soft. It’s not reprimanding or judging. He’s worried, concerned. My heart swells.
I allow myself to truly absorb him. The sight of him gives me an overwhelming sense of peace, and an equally immense feeling of sadness.
At Evander and Angelica’s courthouse wedding, I didn’t allow myself to really look at him, not able to face the pain of being without him just yet. The realization of how much I have missed him sweeps over me like a current.
Without another word, Dion swoops me into his arms and carries me out.
Instead of walking through the crowd, he takes me through a back door that leads to a parking lot where his car sits idle, his driver waiting for us.
He gently sets me down in the back seat and hops in after me.
I curl into a ball next to him. He caresses my hair, though I sense his hesitation when he speaks.
“ What did you take?”
“ How do you know I took anything?”
“ Your eyes. They’re red and glossy, and your pupils are dilated.”
I release a trembling sigh. “ Coke ,” I reply, heart racing.
He lets out a breath. “ Is it the first time?”
I shake my head.
“ Why , Aria ?”
A knot forms in my stomach. I contemplate telling him the truth. But what if he sees me differently?
I sit up, moving away from him, and my head spins again, causing me to sway. Suddenly , I begin to sweat, at the same time shivering from the cold. Dion grabs onto my arms to steady me.
“ Do you need some air?”
I nod.
He tells his driver to pull over and helps me out of the car.
I have no idea where we are, but I sit down on the edge of the sidewalk, clutching my head. I need to sober up. Dion sits next to me.
“ Who knows about this?”
He pulls out a pack of smokes, tapping one out to hand to me. “ You look like you could use this,” he says softly. I take the cigarette with a shaky hand, and he lights the tip for me. I try to give him a small smile.
“ No one knows,” I finally respond. It’s terrifying to think about exposing my shameful secret to someone right now. Especially to Dion .
I take a drag, smoke curling around my fingers, and exhale slowly, my shoulders relaxing just a bit.
Dion nods. I can’t read him, and it scares the hell out of me. He’s so cool and composed. I can’t tell if he’s sad, angry, or disappointed.
I chance a glance at his profile. His gaze is on something distant.
“ It’s been a year since we’ve properly spoken.”
“ I know,” I say with a sniffle.
He takes a deep breath as if to steel himself. “ You rejected me.”
My breath hitches. I know I should muster up the courage to tell him the real reason I refused him that night, but I can’t risk Andrew finding out.
“ I had no choice,” I mumble.
His eyes flash with frustration as he meets my gaze. “ You always have a choice, Aria .”
“ Believe me, I weighed every option, considered every angle. I didn’t want to hurt you,” I say, hoping to diffuse the growing tension.
“ What are you even talking about? You didn’t even give me the chance to tell you my plan.” His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he struggles to contain his emotions.
I look down, grabbing onto my dress to play with the hem. “ It wouldn’t have mattered. I know you’re upset?—”
He cuts me off. “ You don’t know shit, Aria ,” he snaps. His harsh words sting. But I deserve them. “ I’ve spent 365 days wondering why . Why would you lie and make me believe you wanted a way out of your engagement?” His breathing grows heavier.
“ I didn’t lie,” I whisper, trying to keep my tone steady. “ I truly wanted a way out.”
Dion laughs, but it’s not a joyful sound. “ Bullshit .”
“ This is bigger than you and me, Dion . You don’t understand.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “ I wouldn’t know, Ari . You haven’t talked to me in a year. You wouldn’t even respond to my texts. And the first time you message me after an entire year is to have me come save you from a dingy club fucking high off coke.”
Dion’s sharp words pierce through me. But I understand his frustration. I shunned him, turned my back on him. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that I’ve caused him such pain.
I wish I could explain to him why I acted the way I did.
I want him to know that I regret my actions, that I want to make things right.
But I can’t—because of my brother.
“ Signómi ,” I mutter simply, but the words seem inadequate.
Dion expels a deep sigh, then gets up and extends a hand to me. “ Let’s get you home.”
As soon as we’re back in the car, he tells his driver to take me to my estate. I don’t even care enough right now to avoid being seen. I hope it doesn’t bite me in the ass.
The entire drive is quiet, and our silence feels heavy.
When we pass the gates and the car has come to a stop, Dion turns to me. “ I know your life is in shambles right now, so I’m not judging you—in any way. But you have people who care about you deeply, Aria . Your mother, your brother, Angelica … And me,” he says, his tone comforting. “ You don’t need the drugs and alcohol to cope.”
I scoff half-heartedly, a rare burst of emotion rising within me. A flicker of what I used to be. “ I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I can or cannot do, Dion . I’m not a child, and I don’t need to be rescued.” My words come out sharp and defensive. Hurt flashes in Dion’s eyes. I know it’s not fair. I know it’s the guilt talking, making me lash out because I can’t stand to face what I’ve done. I’m projecting all my anger and disappointment onto him, and it only makes me feel worse.
“ Then why the fuck did you text me then?” he retorts, his voice rising as frustration boils over. He has every right to be mad.
I stay silent and look down at my hands that are once again fidgeting with my clothes. Dion’s eyes dart to my short dress and uncovered legs. His heated gaze intensifies the butterflies fluttering inside me.
“ I had no one else,” I murmur.
How do I tell him that he’s the only one I ever want to call? That he’s the only person I think of when anything happens to me, good or bad. How do I tell him these things without feeling the guilt of laying my emotions everywhere except with my future husband?
“ Don’t lie to me, Aria ,” Dion adds, softer this time, as if he can see the swirling thoughts in my head. I feel the weight of his eyes on me, the scrutiny suffocating. It’s as though I’m under a microscope, my every flaw magnified for him to see.
I turn my body to face him, finally meeting his gaze, and what I find, a mix of anger and despair—longing—makes my breath hitch.
“ I needed you , Dion . Not anybody else,” A knot tightens in my stomach, my palms growing clammy. I could say more, so much mo re.
“ When do you need me, Aria ? It seems like you only called me because you needed saving.”
I can see the urgency in his eyes, sense the blazing fire inside his body. My heart races and heat creeps up my neck.
I always need you, Dion . I open my mouth to say the words out loud, but the ringing of my phone interrupts the moment.
We look at each other, realization dawning on Dion’s face. His lips form a straight line as his jaw tenses.
We both know exactly who is calling me.
Ring . Ring . Ring .
The tension in the car thickens and Dion looks like a kettle ready to explode.
We still don’t take our eyes off each other as the phone continues to ring in my clutch.
My breathing goes ragged as Dion’s gaze pierces into me, and I find myself wishing for the ground to swallow me whole.
“ Answer it.”
“ No ,” I reply breathlessly.
“ Answer it, Aria ,” Dion repeats in a no-bullshit tone. I can feel the fire burning within him.
My phone is still ringing.
The sound is deafening, but I can’t hear anything other than the tension bubbling inside me.
I want to take my phone and throw it out the window, but I can’t move, my body frozen from Dion’s penetrating gaze.
My hands go back to my hem. I breathe in and out, my rib cage expanding with each breath, and I notice Dion glancing at my chest before forcing himself to look away. He’s not going to let this go, and if I don’t answer the call, I’m going to pay for it later. Fuck .
I swallow the nervous lump in my throat and shut my eyes tight, trying to temporarily sober up.
“ Hello .”
“ Aria .” The hairs at the back of my neck rise. “ Where are you?” Andrew’s voice is low, but I don’t miss the underlying anger in his tone.
“ I’m home,” I say hesitantly.
Just then, Dion slides over to my side in one swift movement, his thigh grazing my bare leg, and I’m not sure if it’s to offer me comfort or to torture me. My body stills when he brings his nose to my ear.
A deep breath sounds through the speaker. “ I’ve been calling you all night.”
I bite my bottom lip, hard enough to hurt. Anything to sober the fuck up before this conversation turns to shit. “ I’m sorry. I was watching a movie, and my phone was on silent.”
I can feel and hear Dion’s warm and heavy breathing in my ear. Goosebumps erupt all over my body.
If Andrew doesn’t believe my bullshit, he doesn’t make it known.
“ Text me in the morning.” He hangs up.
I exhale a pent-up breath, the tension slowly leaving my body. That was close.
Dion grabs my left hand in his and runs his thumb over my engagement ring. It feels like a prison, confining me to a destiny I didn’t write, binding me by a chain.
“ Now , answer me, Aria . When do you need me, if not just when you need saving?” he asks again, right into my ear.
“ Always ,” I whisper.
His lips are now touching my earlobe as he inhales sharply. “ Say it again,” he demands.
“ I always need you , Dion ,” I mumble.
His hand travels up my thigh, fingers trailing over my skin, all the way up to my chest, before he puts his palm flat over my heart.
“ This heart beats for me,” he states.
It isn’t a question, but I nod, letting out a breathless yes .
“ In spite of everything, I’ve only ever had one want,” he continues. “ My need for you goes beyond anything that can be put into words. It’s madness , Aria . To have the burning desire to be with a woman I can’t have. Take me out of my misery, I beg you.”
My heart skips two beats at his plea, his words striking me right in the depths of my soul. I can’t take this anymore.
I want to tell him I picture his face every time I look into my fiancé’s eyes. I want him to hear how much I yearn to be with him.
I want to end his suffering. And mine .
I open my mouth to say something, but Dion stops me by removing his hand from my chest and bringing his fingers to my lips, closing them gently.
He doesn’t want to hear my rejection.
I close my eyes and squeeze them shut, tears threatening to fall.
Dion brings his face down to my neck and buries it in the curve, inhaling long and hard, soaking up every ounce of my scent.
A pool of wetness gathers in between my legs at his feral gesture, and I suddenly want to open myself up to him, body, and soul. My body begs to be touched by him. Every ache is screaming his name.
He senses the shift in my body language and bites down on my neck, gently sucking and swirling his tongue along my skin.
I close my legs, but it does nothing to relieve the pressure now concentrated right at my throbbing clit.
He removes his mouth from my neck and puts his hand down my dress, cups my right breast in his hand and pinches my nipple, sending ripples down my body.
“ We shouldn’t do this here, Dion ,” I manage to say.
“ No , we shouldn’t,” he confirms. “ But it doesn’t change the fact that I want to.”
I try to find the courage to speak. To thank him for saving me and leave.
Instead , I do something I might come to regret tomorrow morning.
I slide over to Dion and lean in, heart almost beating out of my chest, and press my lips to his. His warmth sends a surge of electricity through my veins, as if every nerve in my body has suddenly awakened at his touch.
And it’s as if a floodgate has been opened.
His lips start to move against mine, matching my rhythm before he grabs me by the back of the head and deepens the kiss. I moan into his mouth.
A rush of need flows through me, and I want more.
Our kiss becomes frantic, as if we’re going to wake up from a beautiful dream and realize this was only our imagination.
Dion nips at my bottom lip. My exhales turn rugged, hard, desperate. I climb on top of him, my dress rising up my legs. He squeezes my thighs, not once letting go of my lips, and pulls me closer to his crotch, his dick hard through his trousers.
“ Fuck , Aria ,” he breathes as I start to rock myself against him, pleasure hitting me right away. I’m already on the edge. It’s not only that I haven’t done anything sexual in over a year—since being with him—it’s the effect that he has on me. No one else ever could.
I hold on to his shoulders, letting the friction bring me closer to my orgasm. I need this so badly.
Dion moves his mouth to my neck and inhales deeply before continuing to kiss and lick my skin. I erupt in goosebumps.
“ Ah , yes. Fuck ,” I moan into his ear, and he grunts.
“ You’re going to make me come in my fucking pants,” he grits out, sounding frustrated. But I know it’s because he’s just as drunk on this as I am.
We shouldn’t be doing this. Not now, not here , in front of my house, the guards only several feet away. But I can’t help it.
He reaches down my dress and pinches my nipple between his fingers, and I yelp. “ Oh , God ,” I pant. “ I’m so close.”
I’m lost in the moment, lost in us .
With a few more humps against his leg, I ride the wave toward my orgasm.
Dion whispers in my ear. “ I’ve missed you, astéri mou. ”
And I come undone.
I cry as I reach my climax, tears flowing freely. Dion wipes the wetness off my cheeks while stifling his own grunts.
I can’t bring myself to say it, to admit that I miss him too. But I really do.
My heart weighs heavily with the knowledge that I have to go back to real life. This moment, this slip-up, cannot last, as much as I want it to.
I’m not crying because it feels good.
I’m sobbing because nothing will ever feel as good as being with him. No amount of alcohol or drugs will ever alleviate the heaviness in my chest.
So , I mourn the inevitable end, wishing for more time with Dion in this blissful bubble of ours.