Busted Lips and Lust-Bruised Hips

Amaya stretched into the yawn unhinging her jaw as she analysed the smoke patterns breathed onto the ceiling by previous guests. She squinted and widened her eyes in succession in an attempt to read any meanings in them. She tried to envision the numerous moulds of people that had sat in the same place as her, in the same position and with the same aims in their mind. A ruffle of material caused her head to droop with surprise and a smile to stumble across her lips. Pete slouched in the chair opposite her, his eyes closed and his breathing levelling. Rolling her head back to look at the ceiling once more, Amaya sealed her eyes too. "Truth or dare?" she mumbled lethargically.

"Hmm?" Pete murmured as he sat up slightly in an attempt to wake himself up.

"Truth or dare?" Amaya repeated through her widening smile. Pete gazed across at Amaya with a slight frown, taking in the frosting of light in her eyes and her fully-fledged grin with amusement. Watching his internal debate between the two options, Amaya leant forward slightly. "Go on," she prompted, "Be daring."

Grinning, Pete shook his head in protest. "No way," he replied, "I'm too afraid of what dares you've got planned in that head of yours."

Slotting back against the sofa, Amaya curved her lips into a pout. "Well, let's just put it this way, honey. It's not going to be as bad as those naked pictures you took."

Pete's shock was blatant at Amaya's words as his lips moved wordlessly in response. Settling instead for a laugh, he shook his head while he leant into his seat. "Cruel," he murmured when his mouth remembered how to work with purpose.

"I'm sorry, darling," Amaya said with a smile that erased her apology as soon as it was uttered. "It just had to be done. Besides, you don't think you've managed to live them down yet, do you?"

"Well...I was kind of hoping..." Pete started.

"No way," Amaya interrupted with an inspired passion. "Not as long as there are single girls - and guys for that matter too." Giggling at Pete's blush, Amaya uprooted herself from her seat to stroll across to his. Unravelling his folded arms, Amaya squeezed her form in the space beside him, dropping her head to his chest. "Sorry," she apologised again, her voice slightly more sincere this time. Surprised, but smiling at Amaya's response, Pete guided her legs across his own until they were tangled in the cramped space before tightening his hold on her. "I'm not crushing you, am I?" Amaya asked after a while in a muffled voice.

"No," Pete replied.

The pair sat in silence, absorbing each other's body heat, before Amaya shifted her head to glance up at the bassist. "You never answered my question," she told him.

Pete grinned in thought. "Truth," he answered after a pause, "I'm feeling honest."

Creasing her forehead as she tried to find a deep enough question to ask, Amaya let her eyes wander across to a distance and settle on some insignificant detail without focussing on it. When she finally drew back into reality, she looked up at Pete with inquisitive eyes. "What's your biggest regret?" she asked him.

"How long have you got?" Pete asked with a cynical laugh.

Sitting upright with seriousness, Amaya shook her head. "Don't break the rules," she told him, "I asked a question, you have to answer it."

Pete shrugged beneath the pressure. "There's too many," he confessed, "Not making that one summer last forever, making another stretch out too long, letting go too soon, not letting go soon enough."

Settling her head against Pete's shoulder, Amaya closed her eyes at the sound of his thoughts. "You always speak so vague."

"Well, if I spoke deep, I'd drown," Pete explained.

"I'd rescue you," Amaya said to the bassist. Pressing her chin to his chest, Amaya bowed under one thought that slid between her lips in a suppressed voice. "You don't regret meeting though, do you?"

"Of course not," Pete assured with worried conviction, "Why'd you ask?"

Shrugging, Amaya sat up, tenatively withdrawing from the moment. "No reason. Just a random question," she answered as she stood and took measured steps away from Pete. He watched her retreating form as it stepped to the table tucked next to the kitchen, her hands falling against the wood for grounded comfort. He heard the breaths that she sucked in to regain a sense of composure only to hear them be released in a sigh. "I'll be home this time tomorrow," Amaya said, "How'd I know that as soon as the plane leaves the tarmac, I won't leave your mind? I'm just another fan, that one face lost in the crowd. Why should I be more resonant than the others?"

Pete crossed the room in his panic, pausing close enough behind Amaya for her to feel his presence without contact. "Amaya," he said, "What's going on? Where has all this come from?"

"I don't wanna go home," Amaya almost whined, her voice and posture slipping into child-like defiance. "I want to stay but I can't."

"What's going on?" Pete repeated, his tone tight in his assumed calm.

"I just..."

"I asked a question," Pete reminded Amaya, stepping a footstep closer. "You have to answer."

"I can't go on, Pete, I just can't." Pete was prepared for a confession from Amaya - he had braced his heart and head for that - but, as she turned around with her eyes dotted with tears, his panic over-rode every precaution he had set in place. "He hates me but he won't let me go. You heard how he spoke to me. Even through the dark, you could see he hated me. It was never love. It was never anything but a show."

Carefully taking Amaya's hands to calm the trembles that flitted across them, Pete grappled for the emotions that spun into turmoil beneath his skin. "Are you saying that..?" he began, but the question caught on his tongue like a sour taste he couldn't swallow.

"Sean can't stand me. He never could. All those promises. All they result in are matched bruises. The same size, the same passion." Raising the edge of her t-shirt, Amaya lowered her eyes to the opaline skin smeared with purple blotches beneath it. Her finger glided across one and she winced at the pain that shot through her. "And that's just because I told him I had to come out here for work," Amaya said, "Imagine if I told him the truth. Imagine the damage."

"Amaya, you can't go back," Pete told her, forcefully, "You can't go back to that."

Smiling in cynicism, Amaya raised her eyes to Pete, depositing a tear on her cheek as she did. "What else am I going to do?"

"Stay here," Pete insisted, "I'll look out for you."

"Sure, when you're on the road, a million miles away from where you can play the knight in shining armour. Thanks, honey, but you're a musician not a hero. You can tuck me away here all you want but he's going to find me. He always does. His temper's not worth risking."

"But you just can't go back!" Pete exclaimed.

"This is why I never told you before!" Amaya informed the bassist, pulling her hands from his to cross the room in her angered passion. "Don't you think I've tried that? Don't you think I've spent weeks hiding away? Don't you think I know exactly what's going to happen if I do? He'll find out, he'll find me and I may as well just go knot the noose around my throat." Swallowing back the sobs that stilted her speech, Amaya scraped her fingers through her hair, clawing back the thoughts in her mind. "You don't know him, Pete. You have no clue."

"Then make me understand," Pete urged, crossing the room once more and placing his hands on Amaya shoulders to steady her crumbling resolve.

"I can't," Amaya replied, shaking her head in defeat. "I can't. I'm just...I've got nothing left."

Sensing her breakdown before she allowed it to happen, Pete stepped forward, his arms finding their way around Amaya with desperation. Her sobs set her trembling against him as he tensed his arms around her to ease the agony. "It'll be ok," he soothed, "It's all going to be fine." And, through his words, he was glad that Amaya's tears distracted her hearing because his voice sounded forced - even to him.

* * *

Pete stood over the kettle as it boiled, the steam obscuring the thoughts that had been etched in worry lines across his forehead. His fingers tapped disjointed rhythms on the counter in front of him as his mind stumbled over itself for a solution. Amaya's confession kept thickening in the air half an hour after it had been spoken and he was left to compromise with it by himself. His eyes swung across to the dimmed bedroom where he had left her curled around her emotions and sighed heavily. He had envisioned every complication that she could have been in but the one that she was. Yet, as he rewound through his memory, it seemed like the blatant one while he recalled the harsh tone of her boyfriend on the night of the show to her refusal to talk about him. He couldn't help but feel guilty at not noticing her problem sooner.

As the kettle whistled for his attention, Pete stemmed his thoughts to finish preparing a drink for Amaya, glad for such an ordinary task to occupy him and the silence from his mind that it provided. Yet, as he picked the cup up from the counter, his eyes rolled towards the door once again and he found himself summoning the last fraying strands of his resolve. The shadows clogged Pete's sight as he stepped into the bedroom and he paused just beyond the doorway to re-adjust his vision. His eyes fumbled over the bed, falling against Amaya as she was scrunched against herself in a painful ball. He was silent as he crossed the room to reach her, placing the drink on the bedside table before sitting beside her.

"I'm sorry," Amaya apologised, her voice diluted with her tears, "I didn't mean to get all miserable on you and ruin the visit."

"You didn't ruin it," Pete reassured softly, "I just wish you had told me sooner."

Fixing her red-rimmed eyes on him, Amaya blinked up at the bassist. "You understand why I didn't though, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Pete answered as he took Amaya's offered hand. He watched as she formed a tight smile before letting her head sink heavy against the pillow, grateful that there was something strong enough to support the weight of her thoughts. Running his thumb over her skin, Pete watched Amaya carefully. "Do you want me to stay with you?" he asked.

Opening her eyes to scan Pete's expectant expression, Amaya pressed her lips together with resolve. "No," she replied, "Your girlfriend will be expecting you."

"It's all right," Pete told her, "I can phone Jeanae and let her know what's going on. She'll understand."

"Sure, she will, sweetheart," Amaya agreed sarcastically, "She'll understand that her boyfriend is spending the night with some girl he barely knows rather than going back to her. No, darling. Thanks for the offer but - I couldn't do that." Pete's eyes collided with his lap as Amaya finished speaking and she squeezed his hand to console him. "What's she like?" she asked with a pallid smile.

"Jeanae?" Pete questionned in a voice heavy with confusion.

"Yeah," Amaya replied, "Come on, darling. I'm in a loveless relationship. Let me hear a guy paint his girlfriend in rose-tinted colours to give me faith in the whole idea of them."

Pete smiled his understanding at Amaya while his thoughts rolled over in thought. Through the past hour, he hadn't given himself much chance to think of Jeanae yet, now that he had to, it seemed like one of the most natural things to do and his smile grew as he began to explain her to Amaya. "She's beautiful," he said, "And I know that's a stupid beginning but she is. She's just so kooky and unique. Probably one of the only people that knew and loved me before the fame - and stuck by me through it all. She never fails me or gives up. Even when it gets hard, she's still there. Through everything."

Amaya smiled through the darkness at Pete's response. "Sounds like the perfect romance."

"Well, it's hardly that. But we fit, you know? I can't describe it but..."

"There's that connection. You know every hiding place in her soul and she knows every one in yours," Amaya finished, her eyes closing at the prospect.

"Yeah," Pete replied slowly. "It's like that."

"You're lucky, you know?" Amaya informed the bassist, "You've just got to realise it in time."

Pete looked back at Amaya, taking in her expression that had clouded with emotion in subtle panic. He tightened his grip on her hand just to keep her grounded in the moment and prevent her from falling over the edge. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" he asked, "Because I don't mind. You need someone right now."

"No, sugar," Amaya replied, "I'll be fine. As soon as I fall asleep, it'll all be over for another few hours."

"But..."

"No, Pete. You've done enough. More than enough," Amaya told him as she placed all of her effort into offering him a genuine smile. Still feeling anxious, but unwilling to argue, Pete just smiled in return as Amaya dropped back down to the pillow again, exhausted at her previous emotional onslaught. Compromising with himself, he decided to stay until Amaya fell asleep, allowing himself the comfort of seeing her peaceful once more and her the reassurance of having someone to be there to ease her into dreams. His plans were interrupted by Amaya's already sleep-weighted voice. "Truth or dare?"

Pete took in Amaya's moon-painted complexion and the sliver of calm that was beginning to show beneath it. "Dare," he answered with a smile.

Amaya opened her eyes to glance up at Pete, her eyes shining with honesty and hope as she spoke, "I dare you to go home."