 
CRIMSON MUSE

(The Crimson Series #1)

By Jan Art

Copyright © Janneth Mazibuko 2015 All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form now known or hereafter invented is forbidden without the consent of the author. This is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are all a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life situations is entirely coincidental.

Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

"Everything you want is on the other side of fear." Jack Canfield

Chapter 1

Aya

If it were up to me, I wouldn't do a damn thing with my life that involved not painting. But no – it's not up to me because unlike trust fund babies, I actually have to do something with my life. I have to find a way to make ends meet even if it means getting through this stupid exam. Two hours in and I'm still daydreaming. Seriously! I'm one of those strange eclectic girls that love to wear baggy clothes inspired by the year 1995, that's how chilled I am about life but today is different. Gone is my usual strange wardrobe, I'm all glammed up. Today, I'm not that natural haired afro girl, bohemian vibes and minimal make-up. Today - I'm far from myself. Not only am I wearing a girly laced up dress and have a long silky weave on, I'm also stuck in an exam room, two hours in and I still haven't got a clue what the bloody correct answers are.

At what point in the human visual system are neurons or axons that code for the same visual field from two different eyes first brought together anatomically?

I stare at the question on my final psychology exam paper, trying my hardest to decipher it. I remember seeing this question on my practice paper but I just can't seem to figure out if the answer on it read something like - nods and cones, the retina, optic chiasm or primary visual cortex. Fuck it. Everything is so mixed up in my brain at this point. I think I'm having one of those final exam "freak out" moments. I haven't slept in days studying for this paper and here I am about to flunk it. _Way to go Ayanda_. My brain is screaming at me. I should've just quit when I wanted to. I should've just dropped out like I've been contemplating to do this whole freaken year. Hall 29 - Wits University will be the death of me. I haven't even been attending classes anymore. I just came to write because Khaya convinced me to. _Damn you Khaya_.

"One hour left," the invigilator announces and now my brain really goes on a quest of its own. It's a burst of colour in my head. In my head I see sunset oranges, pale yellows, deep forest greens and sky blue shades. I've been in this place more times than I can even dare to count and I still can't get over the dull colours of this exam hall. The brown on the walls looks like some smudged pottery shade mixed with nasty vomit. I need the sunlight or maybe an emerald glow, anything to take my mind off writing this damn stupid paper. It would be more interesting if they could paint some cool, fire breathing dragons onto the walls to help people like me focus during exams.

Sinking down on my seat and knotting my fingers, I blink back the tears already burning my eyes. I fix my gaze on a different question but still, my mind feels blocked.

_Which of these aspects of face perception is not true for infants?_ It's a simple multiple choice question and I have no idea what the answer is. I have no idea what anything is anymore. To be quite frank - I'm a failure and my life speaks for itself. I have nothing but a paintbrush set to my name. I've had no idea what's happening in my life for years now, all I know is that I'm a mess and I definitely do not want to be a fucken psychologist, fixing people when I can't even fix myself. I can't believe it took me five years of text books, half focused lectures and barely there results to figure this out.

Feeling defeated, I crawl my way out of the hall and as soon as I reach the passage outside, Ashley chases me down before I can avoid her. I don't need her around me right now. I don't need anybody around. All I need is some alone time and a good fucken cry but I guess that's too big a request for the universe to deem me. Approaching me, Ashley's all dressed up in a luminous blue jumpsuit that compliments her eyes. The girl is gorgeous, a walking ray of sunshine with her bouncy golden locks and pale skin. She's beautiful, so much that, sometimes I envy her light. I believe that everybody has a light about them floating like a halo. Like - we are all angels somehow, born to illuminate the Earth. That's just how I see the world, in deep colours of light. I have a rainbow aura for everyone I meet. Ashley is a rainbow spectrum of sunset oranges, star dust and sweet yellows. Like I said, the girl is gorgeous and guys flock to her like bees would to honey.

"Hey, how did your exam go?" she asks me and all I can do is scowl at her.

"It's ok Aya, at least you came to write," she adds, patting my arm. At her words, the tears I've been holding back find a way to burn down my cheeks.

"Hey, don't cry babe, you'll ruin your make-up." She starts, wiping my cheeks with the back of her hand, fixing my dress and even powdering my nose. Shit, the girl is forever prepared with a beauty 101 kit in her hand bag for every kind of cry.

"Why did I do this again?" I ask her, not hiding the fact that I totally hate my new look. I. Hate. Weaves. I just don't get it. The whole process of putting on another person's hair has always freaked me out a little and besides, I love my afro and I miss it. I feel like an alien in my own body today. I tug at a strand of my new fake hair and glance at my best friend. She's admiring me with a smirk on her face.

"Say something Ash," I murmur, trying to appreciate my temporary new self.

"I'm hoping you'll attract a corporate guy today, or maybe one of those nerd hot doctors that are graduating with your brother today," Ashley squeals, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulders.

Feeling irritated, I change the subject. "Where's Khaya?" I ask her and she points towards the reception desk, where Khaya is huddled on a chair with his game boy, immersed in the small screen _. I mean_ _who does that right?_ Who still plays games on an ancient, out of fashion portable gaming console?

"Where do you even buy those nowadays?" I tease him as I cross to him. He purposely ignores me, making it pretty clear that his game is way more important than my stupid teasing. I laugh as he finally looks up at me, my breath coming up short when his eyes lock with mine. My heart is hammering in my chest like a wild drum to some unknown beat of nerves now.

"Ayanda, uhm wow, you look wow." Choking on his words, Khaya looks me up and down in approval. I'm nervous suddenly, which is weird - I never get nervous around Khaya.

He's Khaya Nkosi for crying out loud. He's my white light, that familiar place of calm that I've known since I was twelve – I shouldn't get nervous around him.

"Thanks, so you like the new look?" I've never been one to be concerned about beauty and making an impression but deep down inside, I really need to hear him say he likes my new look.

"I like everything about you Aya, just the way you are, even when you want to go hug a tree. I thought you knew that already." Getting up, he makes a proper observation of me. I take him in too. He looks dapper in his dark grey suit, a formal look that he doesn't really rock much because he's such a geek - a handsome one though. Khaya is one of those pretty boys, a splitting male version of his mother. We stare at each other intently for about a minute until Ashley's squeaky voice breaks the awkward silence looming in the air.

"Ok love birds, we really should get going," she says and both Khaya and I turn to her in bewilderment.

"Love birds?" Khaya says as if testing the word for the first time. He smiles and shakes his head in awe. "Seriously Ash," he murmurs and I give her a stern look of my own but she ignores us and disappears into the graduation hall. I meet Khaya's deep brown gaze and sigh. He steps closer to me and touches a strand of my side pony, running his fingers through the fake hair as if feeling its softness.

"It's organic Indian hair," I explain, trying to fill the gap of our silence. Khaya raises a brow at me but I see the humour in his eyes. "I like, I will always like everything about you," he whispers into my ear. I bury myself in his arms and revel in the warmth of his embrace. We're around the same height me and him. I stand at five four and he stands at around five six. Releasing me, he sighs and looks down at me. I can already sense something is wrong by the intensity in his eyes. It's all over him, smothering tension, dark like burnt scribbled crayons.

"Everything... ok?" I stutter. Khaya nods but it's not very convincing. I scowl at him because I know him so well. With his condition, he can't hide his emotions very well – It's either, high, really really high or low, really really low. We get each other like that. When shit gets rough, I'm his person and his mine. I'm his Lithium when he doesn't have any and he's my paintbrush when I need it. There are some things that Ashley, as close as we are to her will never understand, simply because she's always had a white picket fence kind of life. Wealthy white collar parents, a good commerce degree and a steady job at a major accounting firm, all at her disposal now. Khaya and I on the other hand haven't been so fortunate. We know life, real life that involves black tax, emotional stress, depression – which apparently black families either feel like they can pray it off of you or that it just doesn't exist.

I'm fortunate enough though to still have both my parents around and an amazing older brother who's now officially a doctor. We don't have much at home but we get by. Baba works as a history teacher in a secondary high school in Soweto and mama works as a cashier at a retail outlet.

As much as I'm happy for my big brother, I just can't help feeling like a failure especially today. _No graduation for me_. The realization hits me with the burning force of a bullet into flesh but I blink back the tears. This is Khaya and Jabu's day, I will not ruin it for them with my childish emotions.

"Zakhele is coming home," Khaya says quietly, interrupting the pity party going on in my head. "Oh?" I murmur.

"Yeah, he called me today. Can you believe it? After all these years Ayanda, he has the nerve to show up like we need him."

I hardly know what to say so I keep my mouth shut and rest my head against his chest assuring him that, I'm here for him, even though I can't imagine what he must be going through. Khaya and his brother Zakhele have never really gotten along. They're like oil and water or a contrast of black and white, there's just no chill between them. I'm not exactly thrilled at the thought of seeing Zakhele myself. It's been what? Ten years since we've seen him, heck I haven't seen him since eighth grade, after he dropped out of high school and basically went on the run.

Zak though, as he is now goes by was a bit of a loner in High School. Nobody really gave a damn about him. There was always something looming and sad about Khaya's brother that left me wondering what his deal really was.

"Are you going to see him?" I ask stupidily. He nods uncertainly and then shrinks himself away from me, his way of dropping the subject.

"We should get going or else Ashley will have our heads and I'll be late for my own graduation," he says quietly and I'm relieved by the humour I hear in his voice.

Chapter 2

Zak

We're driving through Atlas road right after OR Tambo international airport and I just have to comment on this girls outrageous driving. I thought New York City was crazy with traffic and the many fucken yellow cabs but damn I'd forgotten how crazy it gets down here in Johannesburg, the city of gold. "My God Clems, you're going to kill us both if you don't bloody slow down."

I'm rewarded with a _fuck you_ look from Clementine. I laugh because I know what she's thinking. "You drive just as crazy as I do," she yells as I mimic her.

"I'm the only one who's allowed to drive myself at this speed. Female's shouldn't be driving fast at all," I tease her and she laughs despite herself.

"I'm not that kind of girl and you know it. I'll kick your ass Zee." _Damn._ The girl is loud. I've missed her though, even with her annoying "crazy coloured girl from the Cape Flats" accent. I love this girl, she's the only one who's allowed to call me "Zee", she's loyal to me and she's a damn good friend too. I'm talking ride or die kind of girl. If she was straight, maybe we would've hit it off by now. She's definitely my type of girl in the looks department. Light-skinned girl, thick and with curves in all the right places to please a man like me but - unfortunately for me, she's lesbian. We dated in high-school for about a month and I guess I put her off men for good. She's also too good of a friend now for it to ever go down the drain between us for a stupid roll in the sack.

She slows down when we reach a red robot just after the highway. A homeless kid who looks round about in his early 20's approaches our car on my side of the window and gestures for money. He looks like a druggie who will go get his fix as soon as I give him any cash. I scowl at the kid and he veers away to the next car. This is just what I need to remind me that I'm back in South Africa, the land of entitlement.

So typical how the average black South African under the age of 35 is either unemployed, uneducated or H.I.V positive and with the recent xenophobic attacks, hatred should be on that list too. There's just no other explanation for it. Our economy is in shambles and that's one of the main reasons I came back home too, to make sure that my businesses are well taken care of and of course to check on the family and make sure Chad gets what's coming to him.

The rest of the drive back to my complex in Rosebank is quiet between me and Clementine. We let the radio break the silence as we drive. I like this about our friendship, we don't have to try and fill in the blanks when all has been said for the moment. She lets me lose myself in my thoughts and all I do is think of home - not home as in my empty complex in Rosebank but home as in – Soweto. I miss that place and I sure as hell miss my family, so much that a part of me wishes the feeling was reciprocated by them. I pull out my phone and text Khaya for the third time today. We talk once in a while me and him but it's always really weird.

_Hey lil bro how's the day?_ He replies almost immediately.

Fine.

Frustrated, I throw my iPhone at the back seat and like a fool I sulk. Can you believe it, a grown twenty-eight year old man, sulking? Disgusting I know but yes, I actually fucken sulk. "That's an iPhone you just tossed across the back like trash you know, in case you didn't notice," Clementine says and smiles at me. "He gave me a one worded text Clems," I yell. Clementine steals a look my way from the corner of her eye and I literally grab the steering wheel from her to stop us from swerving into the pavement.

_Damn and I thought women could multitask._ "Eyes on the road," I yell playfully. "Sorry," she murmurs. "He gave me a one word answer dammit."

"Khaya?" she asks and I nod, still in bewilderment at my little brother's audacity.

"Oh...sorry," Clementine adds quietly. She knows the deal between my brother and me and is smart enough not to push the matter. We pull up in front of my Oak lakes complex and greet the security guy who opens the boom gate for us. "Long time, no see boss," the guy says as Clementine parks her Jeep and I climb out. Grabbing my luggage from the back I head up the stairs to the second floor of my fortress with Clementine following in slow lazy steps behind me. "Nice whip," I say to her, stealing a look at her as I climb the stairs two at a time. "It's nothing compared to your Range sport," she says.

Inside, I drop my luggage and slump myself on the long sofa. Clementine slips herself down on my lap and hugs me.

"I've missed you," she says and my heart melts, if that's even possible for a man like me. I don't say it back but I know she knows that I've missed her too. I'm just not the kind of guy who says such things and she knows that about me. She's literally the only person in the world who genuinely gives a damn about me and for that I will always have her back. She takes care of shit when I'm away on business trips and gigs and all that sort of stuff that I do.

I'm a photographer at heart but that's not how I make my living. I own a franchise of clubs called King. The name is inspired by my surname "Nkosi" of course which means King in Zulu and it also has a bit to do with my ego. I think I'm the fucken king of the universe sometimes, that's right, because at twenty eight years old, I'm now officially one of the youngest millionaires in South Africa. I'm working on a new pet project called The Muse and if shit goes down properly, I'll be well set on becoming the youngest and most innovative millionaire paying it back in Africa.

Clementine has been with me from the start when I had nothing but a vision. She holds things down at the clubs. It's a handful but she handles it well. She's hard core like that this one. She grew up in Eldorado Park, by the rough side of the township there so I know she can hold her own. She had no one when we met, her parents disowned her when they found out she's lesbian and to top it off, the poor girl's older brother Chad was on drugs at the time. Now that Chad's been released from Prison, no one knows where he is, so I'm all that Clementine's got and she's all I've got. I made a promise to Chad that I would always take care of his sister and I'm a man of my word, so go figure. Chad was my friend but he was also a useless piece of shit, so a part of me always knew he'd disappear on us eventually. Not that I'm complaining, I just need to know where he is, so I can keep him at bay. The guy is fucken crazy.

Apart from my growing list of business associates, Clementine is my wing woman, the only person that I can truly trust besides my boy Liam.

"How are things?" I ask her. "Manageable, we're just short on staff at the moment for The Muse since everything is so new. I've already casted some girls for the campaign, I just need you to make the final choice," she explains.

"Thanks for taking care of things while I was away."

"Sure, no problem, you know I love what I do and I love you Zee. Where else would I be without you." Feeling assured by her words, I nod and take her hands in mine. "I need to head out for a while ok."

"Khaya?" she questions with understanding. I nod and release her, getting up in the process. "He's doing well Zak, don't worry about it. He's graduating soon, today I think." My brows furrow at her words.

_Khaya is graduating today and he didn't even bother to tell me_. I feel a surge of anger, or is it guilt, wow I'm not even sure what I'm feeling right now but it's not good. I know Clementine and the rest of my guys have been keeping an eye on Khaya and the family for me from a distance of course but still, I worry about them every damn day, especially because I have no idea where Chad is. All I know is that he's finally been released from prison and he'll probably come looking for me. Despite all the bullshit that's going on with my family, I love them and it would've been nice to be informed about something like this. Last I checked graduating from Wits University, the best university in South Africa is a fucken big deal.

"They act like I deserted them - did I?" I ask, needing Clementine to reassure me that I did the right thing by leaving them. "You didn't desert them Zak, not in that way."

I know what she means by that. I've been sending money home every month since I left. Lots of money to boot and I've been paying for Khaya's varsity bills and Thembi's school fees. I even bought mama a mansion in Bedfordview but she refuses to move there. She still prefers to stay in Soweto, in that damn small house as if Nelson Mandela didn't pay for our freedom.

"I need to see them, even if they don't want to see me. I need to see them, even if it's from afar."

"Hungry?" Clementine asks. I shake my head even though my stomach is growling like I could eat a lion. I'm just too anxious to even think about food. I grab my jacket and plant a kiss on Clementine's cheek. Then I head out, feeling like the prodigal son.

Chapter 3

Aya

After the graduation, we all head back to Soweto to celebrate. You'd swear we've just come from a funeral though instead of something beautiful and ceremonious, that's the energy in the car – It's all dull like misty fog and frustrated clouds holding rain during a drought.

"What are we doing to celebrate?" I ask, trying to spark up a conversation because I can see how down Khaya looks despite having just received his degree. My spirit is low and so is his I'm not sure why though because the day is legendary. Khaya is now a qualified Pharamacist – the day should be legendary but it doesn't feel like it.

"We don't have to do anything Ayanda," Khaya says, crushing my spirit even more. Yes. He is low today, really really low.

"You did well Khaya, you graduated with a distinction. It's a freaken big deal, we should celebrate," I breathe. "I still have to do my honours if I want to get a decent job Ayanda." Khaya snaps, rolling his eyes at me like it's really no big deal. Before I can bite at him for being so damn pessimistic, his mother's old raspy voice jerks us from the back seat of the old Toyota we're in, where she is seated with her daughter Thembi.

"Honours, what is that?" the old woman asks. Thembi and I exchange looks before Khaya responds. "I have to study for one more year to make sure I'm the best in my field mama."

"Oh ok," the old woman says, completely uninterested. I don't think she realizes what an achievement this day is for her son and for a black family in general. Khaya keeps his eyes on the road the whole time as he drives, his shoulders are tense and brows are furrowed. I put my hand on his lap and gently give him a squeeze, willing him to steal a glance my way. When he does, I mouth to him. "Tell her about Zak," he shrugs and looks away again. Defeated, I stare out the window for the rest of the drive – knowing my role right now is to shut the hell up. I haven't been to Soweto in months since I moved to Parktown with Ashley, so I take it all in. The ever improving surroundings of black people's hustles, the small houses built from the ground up, the sandy golden streets, slowly getting paved and the quantum taxi's queuing up for passangers. This is home to me and will forver be home for the typical black kid, no matter how bad it may seem when you've been exposed to the suburbs.

With so much time on my hands living in Ashley's fancy apartment for the past months, I've gunned down my demons and started painting again. Seeing my parents at the graduation today and how proud they were of their son who is now officially a doctor, made me feel a lot whole lot guiltier about being a drop out. I still can't believe that Jabu is officially a doctor and the first real graduate in our family. It's still kind of surreal. He was on call at the hospital this afternoon so he had to go back after the graduation but I had made him promise that we would celebrate soon, maybe even later on tonight. Ashley went back to work aswell so that left me and Khaya along with his family for the rest of the afternoon. I plan to make it a flourescent epic day of cheer and drinking too much wine.

As we near our destination, we all spot a dark silouettte of a man sitting on the stoop outside the Nkosi home. Driving closer - I also see an SUV, or is it a slick black Range Rover Sport parked out there? Damn. I'm not really a car person but that sure as hell is a beautiful machine. We don't see whips like that around here. As we approach, the man stands up and goes to lean against the fancy car with casual ease. His tall dark figure turned away from us. The tension in our car heightens, oozing thick, like a coating of tons and tons of oil pastels as we get closer. I'm jittery, bouncing my knee up and down out of nervous habit as Khaya parks his old Toyota next to the fancy SUV or whatever it is.

We all know something is definitely up but no one dares to speak. No one is even making an attempt to move. It's all so strange actually - and as we all remain in the car like frozen dolls, Mrs Nkosi lets out a sob out of nowhere, a tragic kind of cry like she's experiencing the loss of a dear one. I look at Thembi, who seems just as confused as I am, then I turn to Khaya and follow his gaze as he studies the scene with creased brows. I nudge his shoulder but he says nothing – he only frowns and shakes his head. Frustrated, I force myself to step out of the car.

"What the hell is going on?" I murmur quietly.

Confused, I stalk up to the strange man with pure determination, when he turns to acknowledge me, I cower and for a second I think I'm seeing a ghost. My heart leaps up in my chest as it all but comes to me. I recognize his feautures, the hard jaw that he's flexing, the line on his forehead creased in a probably permenant frown, the dark brown chocolate shade of his skin tone, the serious looking almond eyes and – his aura. It's his aura that draws me in the most. His aura feels familiar – too familiar and powerful and - beautiful. It's all around him, that burning crimson glow. It's red all around him and it's illuminating the energy in the air. My heart – my heart is dancing, wild and hot in shock as it all becomes as clear as daylight on a glistening summer day.

It's him.

It has to be him. _Zak?_ That has to be him. I would recognize that glooming red aura of his from anywhere, only he looks - different. His aura is different – what used to be glooming is now blooming and what used to be dark lonely alleys of black is now deep enticing scarlets of red. He looks different now and it's intriguing. He doesnt even seem to mind that I'm just standing, completely frozen and dazed. Looking at him like one would a painting.

Coming to myself again, I meet his dark brown eyes pouring into mine like a wild cat ready to pounce on its prey. I shiver, but for the life of me, I can't look away. I won't look away because as much as I'm frightened - I don't want to look away. It's as if this "stranger" is, silently daring me to cower and somehow I won't let him - win? I don't know when this moment became a game but I meet his gaze confidently, how? I have no idea because I have never been one to look at people directly in the eyes long enough for them to actually see me. I'm a Zulu girl after all, raised by a very Christian but traditional family.

Growing up, I've always thought Zak was a charcoal shade of black, you know, dark at times too like a midnight sky full of stars. But as he looks into me, I see red. I see red in all its scarlet shades.

Grown up Zak is a crimson dark purple red, so intense, I'm burning inside like I'm a turf and I've just caught fire. Looking at him and the strong cold look in his eyes, makes me lose my tongue. I want to paint his aura, paint it so I can decipher it. _God_ and the way he's looking at me, it feels familiar like the way the stroke of a paintbrush comes naturally to me. It's all red inside, a burst of colour like a rainbow collage.

To my relief, he eventually does look away when Khaya steps out of the car. Zak pulls in a long drag of his cigarette and blows it out. He then throws the bud on the grass with no consideration for nature. He does this with beautiful grace and I can't help but be mesmerized. When the smell of the cigarette fills my nostrils, I lose my breath.

_I freaken hate smokers_. Bad for the environment. _I hate smokers_. My brain is screaming at me. I hate smokers and the smell of cigarettes, makes my stomach coil but somehow, watching Zak smoke was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen, like looking at a blood red moon for the first time during a very rare eclipse. Maybe it's the way he's dressed, simple but elegant in black faded jeans and a button up black shirt. He's also finished off his look with a black fedora hat that makes him look like a black rock star of some sorts especially with the slightly visible dark ink on his neck. One of many tattoos I'm guessing. _I hate tattoos_.

"Congratulations lil bro," Zak says calmly, the sound of his deep baritone voice sounding strange in my ears as it interrupts my sky rocketing thoughts. Khaya manoeuvres his way around the car and crosses to stand next to me, draping his arm around me protectively. I let out a breath and find myself relaxing. I inhale deeply, the gulp of air I've been struggling to let out. With Khaya by my side, I can breathe again, I can see clearly. White. It's all white again. This is home, not that dark but colourful place I've just travelled to at the sight of this strange man.

Khaya nods at his brother but says nothing. Leaning down, he opens the door for his mother and sister. Thembi steps out of the car and then after a few seconds of pondering what she should do. She surprises us all, running to launch herself at Zak, who can't hide the shock on his face when he catches her. I try to suppress the smile on my face but fail. I can't help it, I chuckle. It's a funny sight, seeing this man caught so off guard by his sister's invasion.

He suddenly looks human when he holds on to his sister and not like some wild dangerous cat or some hot as sin rock star that I had just imagined him as. He suddenly looks human, holding on to his sister and not like that bright crimson fire I just saw him as. But then again, he's not even that hot, he's just interesting and – different.

"Zakhele!" Thembi cries out. Locking her arms around her estranged brother's neck, she holds on to him for dear life. Zak spins her around awkwardly and then sets her on her feet again.

"I've missed you little one," he says. Thembi is the youngest of the Nkosi's so they all call her "little one" even though she's not so little anymore. She's in matric now and at seventeen going on eighteen, she stands taller than Khaya and I at a staggering five-eight. Next to Zak though, she's dwarfed. Zak is tall. I'm guessing six-three. He's also darker than Thembi and Khaya in complexion.

"You're home, you're actually home," Thembi gasps. Zak kisses her forehead and I can't help but appreciate the moment. With Thembi by his side, some of her turquiose light bounces off on him, so now they're fused in blue and red. It's a beautiful sight.

Silence bathes us for a while. The tension, once again is almost unbearable, I can put a blanket over it. We all just stand there, waiting but Mrs Nkosi refuses to get out of the car and acknowledge her son.

"Maybe I should just go," Zak says dryly after a while. "No," Thembi replies almost immediately and hooks her arm with Zak's as if he's going to disappear in a puff.

"Mama, you have to get out of the car eventually," Khaya says and looks down at his mother who shakes her head. Slowly, the old woman creeps out of the car muzzily, tears stream down her face as she meets her older son's intense gaze. She shakes her head again and looks up at her younger son in disdain.

"You knew about this?" she asks Khaya but it comes out more like an accusation. Khaya nods, guilt and heartbreak plastered all over him. "I'm sorry ma," he murmurs. The old woman trembles, sinking to the floor on all fours. God, she's so dramatic. I kneel down and come to her aid though, holding her so she doesn't collapse but she's too heavy so we swirl a bit. Khaya tries to help us but his mother is not having it. She shoves away from him frantically, burying her old wet face in her trembling hands, she weeps again. "Why - why did you not tell me? How could you not tell me this?" she cries.

"Mama, please – please don't cry," Thembi stutters. Crossing to us, she gives us a hand. Thembi is bigger than me, so with her help, we lead Mrs Nkosi into the house, leaving Khaya to deal with his brother's unwelcome return back home.

Once inside, Thembi leads her mother away into one of the rooms. I pace around the living room, wondering if I should go back outside and check on Khaya, but a part of me argues that he needs some space and alone time with his brother. I stare out the window and see their tall frames sizing each other up like an array of white and red.

Even from afar I can see that despite the obvious height difference, Khaya is not intimidated by his brother. They're both sizing each other up like typical men would before a fist off. I shake my head and force my gaze away from them. I need a distraction or else I'll probably never stop thinking about this Zak guy. He's like a blast from the past, haunting us in the most unwelcome dreams. Being friends with Khaya for as long as I have, I've always known Zak, not personally but I've always known of him. He's always just been that mysterious older brother of my best friend. Ten years later and he's still, that mysterious guy - Only this time, he seems different.

He's a man now. A man – all grown up of course, no longer just a randy corrupt teenager as I remember him so now he's all kinds of intimidating. And me being female, one who's obviously not blind, I am not immune to the fact that he looks really, really good. He looks handsome in an understated way. He's not your typical pretty boy like Khaya but he's pleasant to the eye in a rugged sort of way, strong in presence and form like a man who knows who he is, what he wants and how to get it.

Ok, I admit it. I'm quite impressed by him. I'm very impressed by this man, so much that it scares me because I hardly know him. I'm a - content kind of girl. That's how I decipher auras, by the content of one's soul. Content is everything to me, not just the package. A man has to reveal the content of his heart, mind and soul for me to be impressed not just a beautiful package. Maybe that's why I've basically - been single my whole life because I'm picky like that. Ashley thinks it's ridiculous but that's just how I'm wired.

I reach for my bag and take out my Blackberry. Music is always a good distraction. I head into the kitchen, place my headsets on and start cooking up a storm, trying my hardest not to think about red and all that it's doing to me with its many deep shades. Red - Who knew it could be so beautiful because usually, the colour just reminds me of blood. If I was back in my apartment, I would just paint. Yes - now would be a good time to just pick up a paintbrush and paint and paint and paint until my soul calms its wild dance.

Chapter 4

Zak

I stare at my brother's impassive face, waiting for him to say something as we stand out here, awkward after mama's breakdown. But somehow, my mind is elsewhere. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell happened with that damn tiny girl just now. She's like - she's like that first shot, that first shot in a powerful series of images that just won't leave you alone. Her eyes are dancing through the lens of my mind like fucken stars. _Damn that girl_.

We had, what I would call, a "stare off" just now and I - I looked away first, which was strange.

_I never look away_.

I never look away first. I'm the master of "stare offs" and for some unknown fucken reason, I failed today. Again - _Damn that girl_.

I remember her from when we were kids. She would run after Khaya everywhere like a desperate little love sick puppy. Her and my brother were inseparable and it seemed that even now after ten years they still are pretty much - fucken inseparable. "I see you still friends with that girl," I say to Khaya before I realize what I'm even saying. What the hell am I doing anyway asking about that girl.

And what the hell is her name?

I forgot her name and it's driving me crazy. "I'll always be friends with her," Khaya says simply, even though I'm hardly paying attention to him.

_What the hell is her name?_ I don't know why I desperately want to remember what her name is. Despite myself, I actually have the nerve to ask.

"What's her name again?" I try to make it sound as casual as possible. Khaya gives me a weird look that tells me he's surprised or maybe annoyed by my question, I can't really tell. I just desperately silently hope he answers my damn question. Something with an A, I think it's something with a bloody A. I'm almost certain.

"Ayanda, but we all call her Aya," Khaya says in an irritable manner. I knew it.

_Ayanda_. Yes, that's it. The name suits her. Now, I find myself smiling for no fucken reason and Khaya raises a brow at me. He looks super annoyed. He probably wants the girl or maybe, they are already together. Are they together? _Shit_. Whatever, I don't really care because she's not my type.

"Don't worry, she's not my type," I joke and then frown for some unknown reason. That's the truth though. The girl is seriously not my type at all.

She's a little too - what's the word? Minuscule, yes, she's a little too minuscule for my taste. I fancy real women who are fully ripe. I'm an ass man. I need something to grab when it comes to women – a sexy plump ass and thighs is all a black man ever really needs from a woman.

_Ayanda_.

Her name is echoeing in my thoughts and so is her face. Her face though...Damn, the girl is beautiful in a strange sort of way because, her eyes are much too big for her small face, her skin though, her brown skin is a pretty shade of brown that I've never seen before, at least, not in such a beautiful tone. Her skin is brown, not as brown as mine but still – much to brown for me. _She's not my type._ I remind myself. She looks too innocent for the likes of me anyway and well - I don't date dark-skinned girls.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ I guess it's just the photographer in me. I want to capture her face, just to see the thousand stories that those eyes would tell, just to see how her skin would glow if captured in the right light.

"What do you want Zak?" Khaya asks. Finally, the dreaded question is out of his mouth. I was waiting for it. The accusing tone in his voice did not go unnoticed either. He's still mad at me for leaving that much I know. He's still mad at me for leaving the way that I did but I had no choice. I had to fucken leave. I don't blame lil bro for being angry though, but I vowed that I will not allow myself to be the big bad wolf in this family anymore. Everything that's ever gone wrong is not my weight to carry alone. It was dads fault and now he is not even around anymore to take any of the blame for his shit.

_I fucken hate that man_. I wish he was alive just so I could tell him how much I fucken hate him. I fist my hands and force myself to breathe.

"I missed you guys."

I have no right to be angry at Khaya. He was just a kid, barely thirteen when dad died so I know his judgment is clouded about the truth of the whole situation. I was eighteen when it all happened. That day when it all went black, I was only a teenager too. Everyone seems to forget that I was also just a kid.

"I don't know what is expected of me right now Zak. What do you want me to say?" That's the most I've gotten out of him in a while so I smile.

Stepping closer to him, I make a study of him. I'm way taller than my brother but still, he looks me straight in the eyes and it's kind of impressive. It's so weird seeing my baby brother as a man, grown with a backbone of his own. It's admirable. I can see the boys got balls. He is, a Nkosi after all, so go figure.

"Give me a chance to make things right. Give me a chance to be a brother to you again." My words do nothing to him because he just stands there, nonplussed. We stare at each other and I will him to see the depth of my words. His eyes soften just a tad bit before he turns on his heel, heading for the door.

"Let's go inside, there's a chill out here." I follow him into the house. Nothing's changed really. The furnishing is the same, old and exhausted just like I remember it from when we were kids. We walk into the living room and it all feels like home. The fresh smell of cheap food being cooked from the kitchen and the pure scent of mama's favourite house sanitizer brings it all back to me. My childhood days flash before me even as my stomach cries. I remember that I haven't actually had anything to eat since last night in the plane back home. Khaya leads me into the kitchen and I follow in close steps.

That bloody girl Ayanda is here, singing with headsets on and her back to us, tending to the food she's preparing. She turns and stills, eyes wide as she realizes she was being watched. I can't help the smirk on my face at how adorable and embarrassed she looks at the same time. She shrugs and wipes her hands on her apron in an attempt to calm herself.

"Hey," she says, slowly regaining her composure. "Hi," I murmur, sighing awkwardly. "Where's ma?" Khaya asks her. She fiddles with the pot and then turns to him. "She's with Thembi in her room." Then she turns her attention back to her cooking, dumping tomatoes into a salad dish. Khaya crosses to her, whispers something in her ear that I don't hear and then he places a kiss on her cheek. I get the strange feeling that, he's branding his property in front of me as he kisses her, it's all so damn weird. He steals a look my way before he disappears out into one of the rooms.

I'm left alone with Ayanda who makes no attempt to acknowledge me what so ever. She continues calmly with her cooking, adding spices, stirring and cutting vegetables. Eventually, she at least has the decency to remove her headsets and place her blackberry on the table. She looks up at me as she does this, contemplating something and then shakes her head. I remain by the door watching her as she goes about her task. She makes sure to keep her back to me the whole time, ignoring me and it's beginning to get on my nerves.

Me, being me, I have zero tolerance for bullshit, so I contemplate something. Wanting to make her nervous, I cross to her quietly, determined to find out what the hell her deal is anyway. _Why is she being so rude to me?_ We don't even know each other so there is no need for her stupid attitude. It's childish actually. In careful steps, I stand behind her so close that when she moves, her wavy dress brushes against me. She smells amazing, something like jasmine and strawberries. I sense the minute she feels my presence as she stills and turns slowly to face me. Her face is impassive as she stares at my chest. I tower over her and now that I'm close enough to her, to read her face, I can see the fear in her pretty brown eyes.

_Maybe I do intimidate her after all_. For some twisted reason this makes me smile. Her questioning eyes widen in anticipation. I reach for the lid of the pot behind her, trapping her between myself and the counter she's leaning on in the process. She swallows hard but keeps her eyes locked on mine.

"Looks, really good."

"Thank you, I guess," she whispers. I close the pot and rest my hands on either side of her by the counter, leaning down so we're eye level. "What does a man have to do to get a taste of that home cooked meal?" I tease her but she doesn't find me amusing, instead her brows furrow and she looks terribly guilty. I almost regret trying to unravel her.

"Oh I'm so sorry for not offering. I'll prepare a plate for you," she says and then bends slightly to be free from my trap. She's careful not to touch me and being as small as she is, she achieves this masterfully. I watch her as she scrambles around with plates and cutlery. She seems so comfortable here, so at home and relaxed in my mother's house. I envy her.

It's admirable how quickly she recovers from my invasion, completely unfazed. I suddenly feel very stupid and stupidly, I try to fill in the awkward gaps of our silence.

"Do you enjoy cooking?" I ask her, not liking the shaky tone in my voice. She shrugs but remains quiet for a while, fiddling with the cutlery. When she finally looks up at me, I see something in her eyes that I can't decipher. "Sometimes, sometimes I enjoy it," she smiles. I let out a low chuckle, relieved that she's finally answered me and revelling in the thought that I actually put a smile on her face. "Mama must really appreciate having you around then hey."

"She does but it's been a while since I've been here and I wanted to cook something special to celebrate Khaya's graduation, you know."

"Oh, yeah, that." I frown at the mention of the graduation that I wasn't invited to and stare out the window. "I'm sorry," she quickly adds. I look down at her, confused. _Why is she apologizing?_

"What are you sorry for Ayanda?" She sighs and gestures for me to sit down. She opens the fridge and then points to the orange juice. I don't drink orange juice, I don't drink juice at all but I nod out of kindness. I don't know why this girl makes me feel like being on my best behaviour. She pours the juice for me and then takes a seat opposite me.

"For Khaya - I'm sorry for how he's behaving. Just give him time."

I nod and give her a fake smile that doesn't reach my eyes. She gets up abruptly and starts preparing another plate. Secretly, I only hope that she'll join me. I hate eating by myself. It's what I do quite too often and even though I'm used to it, I don't fucken enjoy it.

"Taking a plate up to your mom," she murmurs. Grabbing a tray of plates, she dashes away. While she's gone, I devour the food. I don't even remember the last time I had stew and rice that tastes this good.

As I empty my plate out, I catch Thembi, peeping, her head out from the passage, studying me like I'm some intriguing mystery novel. I pretend like I didn't see her and eventually, she strides in, clutching a text book in her shaking hand. She looks adorable with her blonde and blue braided hair that compliments her golden light brown skin and school uniform, taking me back to those awful high school days.

"Hey little one. Mama ok?" I ask her. She gives me an unconvincing nod and I can tell she's distracted. "Ma says you look just like dad," she murmurs. She's packing books in her school bag with shaking fingers and I raise a brow at her.

"I have an assignment so...going back to the library," she explains. "Please don't leave," she adds. I stand and take her small hand in mine, willing her to look at me.

"I'm not going anywhere ok...at least not in that way. I'll come by here as often as I can. I promise you Thembz." She drapes her arms around my waist and I hold on to her until she releases me. Planting a soft kiss on her temple, I let her go when Khaya and Ayanda walk in on us.

"Thanks for the food, it was great," I say to Ayanda but she ignores me. It's always so bloody awkward when Khaya is around. Everything inside me tells me he wants to burst and that it's only a matter of time before he lets me have it. He's a ticking time bomb actually. I've seen this all too often in my life, people holding on to things unsaid until it all bloody well kills them.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Ayanda murmurs eventually when she takes her seat next to Khaya. Thembi is a ball of nerves as she quickly grabs an apple and heads for the door. "I have to go, Please don't leave Zak?" she begs again. Khaya grunts out in frustration and looks me up and down.

"For God's sake, he can't stay here Thembi. Mama will have a heart attack." He has the decency to at least look at me apologetically as he says this to our sister. I guess he's right though. Mama is by no means ready to face me and neither am I ready for the confrontation.

I just wanted to see her, get a glimpse of her beautiful face. She looked frail, old and tired but still, to me she will always be the most beautiful creation. I catch up to Thembi by the door and cup her face. "I'll drop you off ok, just about ready to leave." I get a squeal of excitement from my sister as I say this. When Thembi steps out, I turn my attention back to my brother and his pretty little friend, who are both gulping down the contents of food on their plates, in silence. Khaya looks up at me as if waiting for me to say something, which I now, feel compelled to do. Coming to the party, I smile at him.

"Congratulations again on your graduation bro. We should celebrate."

"I guess," he murmurs. _Damn_. I feel like I'm walking on egg shells here. "How about, you guys come over to Rosebank later so we can hang out," I suggest. Khaya and Ayanda, exchange looks and then both shake their heads in unison like some bloody hell Siamese twins. "It's not our scene," Ayanda says. Khaya nods in agreement with her and then shrugs uncomfortably. _Damn_. They're ganging up on me these two. I have to admit their tag teaming is really good because it's annoying the fuck out of me. I'm at a loss for words at this point so I don't say anything until Khaya feels the need to explain himself it seems.

"It's Wednesday, I have a late shift at work and besides I have class tomorrow. Some of us have to actually work, you know." I wasn't expecting him to feel the need to explain himself to me but his comment makes me see that deep down inside, he does care about my arrival. Despite his explanation, I'm still annoyed. Frustrated, I let out a breath and will myself not to give up.

"I know it's not really your scene guys but I'm trying here ok. I want to do something for you. Like I said, I want to mend things and you're making it fucken impossible." I don't hide the irritation from my voice.

Like I suspected, the ticking time bomb finally lets me have it. Out of nowhere, Khaya flips out on me, getting up from his chair in a violent jerk at his plate that goes flying across the room and down to the tiles where it breaks. Surprising not just me but his precious little friend Ayanda too because she almost looks terrified. There's a concern in her eyes that grips at me in warning even though it doesn't seem to be concern towards me but rather for my brother and his short fuse.

"You think you can just come here and pretend like you were never gone. That it hasn't been ten years since we last saw you Zak," Khaya snaps, barely containing his shaking hands. It's the weirdest thing I've ever seen actually, the way his fingers are twitching and his shoulders are tense.

"Well guess what, you can't. You can't fix this Zak. We don't need you here," he yells, pacing the room like a man close to the edge of doom. I step back a little, trying to suppress my own anger and let my eyes squeeze shut. I can't bear to see him like this. He's my little brother after all and as much as I feel defensive, I can't lose my cool. I can't show him how much his words are hurting me not only because they are true but because I can't bear to hear any more of it. I feel powerless.

"Tell me where to start. Tell me what you want," I plead with him. He doesn't reply and he's still fuming, nostrils flared, jaw tensed and everything. He fists his hands and for a second I think he's about to come at me full swing when Ayanda puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. Her touch seems to work its magic on him.

He relaxes and looks down at her like she is the centre of his universe, until she lets her hand fall back to her lap. She steps in between us with her back to Khaya and looks straight up at me. She looks up at me, her voice barely audible as she speaks.

"Saturday, how about we all meet up on Saturday?" Her eyes are wide and desperate as she pleads with me, anxiously willing me to agree. It's as if she's apologizing again on behalf of Khaya. She's looking into me in that way she did in the parking lot. Her eyes burning into some unknown part of me like she - knows me. Before I realize it, we're doing it again. The "stare off" but this time I'm close enough to read the emotion in her eyes. There's understanding in her brown depths. I have no idea how much Khaya has told her about the situation but I can see that she understands. She's not looking at me with disdain or judgment like Khaya and my mom do but instead, she's looking at me with a deep understanding like she's going through a text book. Understanding is a form of survival and she knows this. If we're going to survive this situation then we're all going to have to understand one another. The strangest thing happens to me. I can't explain it, all I know is that my heart is hammering and I want to run, anything to stop this woman from looking at me like this, like she - knows me.

_You don't fucken know me._ My brain is screaming.

Uncomfortable, I force my gaze to stare up at the ceiling. Again, I look away first, like how some foolish girl would cower from a man. Now, I'm looking anywhere but at her, I try to find my voice again, breaking away from the spell of those gorgeous brown eyes.

"Saturday night," I whisper. She nods in desperate relief and then I'm braced with one of her magical shy smiles. It's a real smile this time, a genuine one that takes my breath away. Why? Why the hell does she make me feel so – small?

"At King, We'll meet up at King," I quickly add and she nods. _Now we're getting somewhere_. Ayanda and I both turn to Khaya, waiting for his approval.

"Fine," he says and without saying another word, he dashes away into one of the rooms, leaving me alone with this strange creature of a woman that he absolutely adores.

Without thinking, I reach out and stroke her cheek, lifting her chin gently so she can look at me. She's tense and a bit shocked by my gesture, just a little but as usual she looks right into me. "Until, Saturday then," I say to her, needing her confirmation just one more time.

"Of course," she murmurs. I let my hand fall and for a while we just remain as we are, looking at each other, studying one another in amusement. She is a strange one. I don't understand her but I certainly want to. Feeling all kinds of strange inside, I sigh and turn to leave.

_That was fucken weird_. That's the only thing on my mind as I drive Thembi to school. _That was fucken weird._

Chapter 5

Aya

Colour over colour, shapes and curves creating intensity with every stroke, I see rainbows dancing in my mind as I paint. An avocado shade of green, over many flows of brown, I'm layering, stroke after stroke, line after line. My brush smudges over plastered clay paper.

Suffocation - I'm calling this one, suffocation. Today, after many years, I've finally worked on a new painting, something I haven't done ever since my dad made a remark, about, me wanting to draw cartoons for a living. I laugh at this as I finish off the final shade. Now, here I am. With a mirage of wild colours that reflect exactly how I've been feeling lately.

Suffocated - I've been feeling trapped in a life with no real purpose, no inspiration and nothing great to offer to the world. Over these past two days, like a fool, all I've been able to think about is that, weird pull of energy between Zak and I. Ok, maybe I'm just imagining it – my imagination is crazy these days, now that I've started painting again. It's all over the place. That energy can't possibly be real. His aura must be lying to me because, I'm no fool \- I know guys like Zak. Guys like that don't notice strange girls like me, so there's no way in hell that, that was possibly some kind of surreal connection. Like soul mates and shit. Yes, I'm gullible like that and damn, all I know is that I've never felt anything like it in my entire life. The power of it – the power of his aura is something I want to puzzle out and solve. I want to paint it, the colours of his aura and the strokes of his energy. I want to capture it in art. Silly, I know - sometimes my mind is a foolish childish palace. Soul mates – I mean seriously, I don't believe in that crap anyway. Not that I want Zak's advances or anything. I'm a loyal friend, so that means that, Khaya's enemies are automatically, my enemies too.

I sigh again and start packing away my paint brushes when my phone buzzes. I check the caller I.D. _Thembi_. Shit, I'd completely forgotten that she said she'd come over and help me take out my weave. I've only had this fake hair for a couple of days and it's already getting on my nerves. It doesn't feel like me at all. It makes me feel like an alien in my own body. _Crazy right?_

"Hey dear," I answer.

"You still want me to come over?" Thembi purses over the phone in her overly giddy voice. I check the time on my watch reading seven-thirty. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be taking taxi's all the way to Parktown?"

"My boyfriend will drop me off," she squeals. _Shit, what?_ "You have a boyfriend?" I almost shout it out.

_Does Khaya even know Thembi has a boyfriend, one who even has a car?_ Guys like that spell nothing but trouble for a seventeen year old girl. I remind myself to tell Khaya about this new bit of information the next time I see him. Thembi laughs on the other end of the line.

"I'm not a child anymore you know. Look, I really don't want to be home on a Friday night. I need an excuse to go out. The tension is killing me. Mama is so sad lately," she tells me and my feathers smooth out as usual when it comes to her. I love Thembi, she's like the sister I never had. I know this whole mess with Zak returning can't be easy for her so I decide to let her come.

"Well, I really do want this thing off my head," I confess. Thembi laughs and her laugh is so contagious, like an idiot, I find myself joining her. Feeling giddy, I hang up the phone and stare at my surroundings. Everything is still a mess and to top it off Ashley's shoes are everywhere. The apartment is a mess. Apart from my painting, it's all mostly Ashley's fault so a part of me refuses to clean it up.

"Great," I cry out and throw myself on the sofa. I'm lazy as fuck and well, my painting isn't dry yet so I can't clean up yet without getting dust on beautiful - Suffocation.

It's just Thembi coming over so it's not a train smash, I assure myself. She's a simple one and I'm adamant she won't mind the mess. I stretch out on the couch and yawn. Half an hour later, a knock on the door wakes me up from my nap. _When the hell did I doze off?_ I don't even know. I get up and walk lazily to the door. I'm still wearing my ridiculous over- sized hello kitty pyjama sweater and track pants when I open the door and almost gag from my own spit, that's how quickly my mouth goes dry.

Zak is standing in front of me with a stupid cigarette in between his mouth.

_Smokers_. Oblivious to my annoyance and shock it seems, he removes the cigarette from his mouth and smiles down at me. His eyes widen in secret amusement when he makes an up and down observation of my pyjamas and I swear my heart goes on a roller coaster ride, beating in an unusual manner. _I'm so freaken embarrassed_. He's dressed simple in navy chinos, a white T-shirt and a black jacket, looking very dapper and decent compared to me.

"Hey Aya," Thembi squeals from behind her brother's tall frame. Zak steps aside and Thembi launches herself at me. "My boyfriend couldn't make it so I had to call Zak. I hope you don't mind," she whispers and hugs me. _Shit_. If only she knew this is the last thing I need right now - Zak, standing in front of my doorstep when I've just been thinking about him. Trust Thembi to do something as impulsive as this without warning me. I release her and nod whilst making way for her to come inside.

I don't exactly have a choice but to welcome her and this damn brother of hers. Thembi's rambling about something as she enters but I don't hear her anymore, my eyes are fixed on Zak's dark ones. _Awkward – so fucken awkward._

He steps closer to me and leans on the door casually with that bloody cigarette in between his fingers. I'm annoyed by his silence and cool demeanour so my common sense quickly returns.

"No smoking inside my apartment," I snap out of embarrassment but I intimate for him to come inside. Amused, he moves away from me, stepping back out into the passage so he can toss the burning bud down into a pot of plants. Then he turns to me and smiles, a devilment kind of smile that makes my heart do a strange little dance.

"Yes mam," he purses calmly and even does a ridiculous bow that makes him look like a naughty adolescent, a strange comparison because he's such a big man. I suppress a smile as Thembi pops her head out by the door. "You're not leaving are you Zak?" she asks, her pretty brown eyes and flushed cheeks working their magic on her brother.

Zak looks at me as if reading my expression, silently asking for my permission to stay. I cough uncomfortably and then turn to Thembi with daggers. "It's a Friday night Thembi. I'm sure your brother has plans."

"I don't," Zak replies in an annoying matter of fact kind of tone. Thembi squeals in delight and heads back inside. Zak steps closer to me with pretend elegance, his eyes burning into mine humorously and I shiver. Not quite an adolescent anymore when he's standing this close to me.

Folding my arms protectively over my chest, I feel the chill of the late Autumn April evening or is it the chill of having him stand so close to me? I can't really tell. Despite the smell of the cigarette he was smoking, this man actually smells exceptionally good. The scent of his cologne fills my senses and I tremble inside, taking it all in.

_Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself, he's just a man_. I remind myself.

"Nice pyjamas," he says playfully, interrupting my train of thought. I scrub a hand down my face and despite myself, I actually laugh. Zak laughs too, a low deep chuckle that has me feeling all kinds of embarrassed.

_Great. Real smooth Ayanda._ It's a pleasant sound though, his laugh. His silly comment has helped to ease the awkwardness between us, so I step aside and gesture for him to come inside. Now he seems quite pleased with himself as he brushes passed me. I hope he doesn't mind the mess though. I try to grab some of Ashley's shoes as he walks around making a study of the living room.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Thembi fiddling with one of my paint brushes and I can't help it, like a crazy person, I flip out on her. I'm just so on the edge about my new painting that I lose all my senses again.

"Thembi stop that. You know how I feel about my painting," I yell and it comes out a little more harshly than I intended it to. Poor girl freezes with my brush in her shaking hand and I can feel Zak's questioning deep gaze on me even though I don't look at him.

"Aya I'm so sorry. I completely forgot. I won't touch it again, I promise," she rambles and I feel so guilty for yelling at her. I sigh and run a hand through my fake hair, pulling at it a little and then I close my eyes.

_Just breathe Ayanda_. My mind is racing and I try desperately to tame my thoughts.

"Let's just get started ok."

"Ok, I'll...I'll go get the comb and scissors." Thembi jolts away into my bedroom. I turn to Zak and notice that he's crossed to the other side of the room and is now making a deep study of my painting.

Oh no – Suffocation.

She's so exposed out there on the far side of the room, all on her own and now Zak is gaping at her like he has the right to.

My heart leaps up to my mouth and I'm panicking as I regard this. Zak's brows are furrowed and he seems lost in thought. Watching him observe my painting like this makes me nervous.

I wonder what he's thinking.

Most people look at my paintings and give me a "what the fuck is this kind of look" but no, not Zak. Instead, he's looking at my painting like it means something. Like he gets it and totally understands the dark waves of colour and patterns. Either way, I can't take it anymore, I have to do something. I have to say something.

Anything to distract him from looking at something that means so much to me - I feel exposed, like he's looking into my soul.

"Would you like something to drink?" My voice sounds weird and much too gravely even in my own ears. Zak doesn't hear me though and I'm relieved. He's still focused on that damn painting.

He picks up the brush next to it and rubs the tip of it in circles on his palm. He does this absentmindedly and I frown. He has the nerve to do that even after he saw how I reacted to Thembi touching one of my brushes. Wait...Thembi...Thembi was fiddling and harassing my brush. Zak is merely touching it, feeling the softness of it.

_Why am I making excuses for him_? I should be mad, I should be fuming but I'm not. Instead, I'm numb.

I'm lost in the moment with him even though he's the one looking at the painting. My gaze is on him. I get to gape at him openly without him noticing. This time, he doesn't have on a fedora hat so I can see his hair. It's cut in a rough trim fade which leads to a full stubble of beard. He really does have a handsome face. There - I admit it. He's hot in a cave man style sort of way, definitely not a pretty boy like Khaya though.

"Your work-" he says finally but pauses at that. He doesn't look at me. He simply continues to caress the tip of my brush on his palm. He's a million miles away - I can tell and a part of me wishes I could join him. To that place where he's drifted off to, it seems peaceful there.

"Your work is beautiful Ayanda," he continues and only now looks at me. There's a spark in his eyes that grips me. The spark pierces into me and I swear I feel the twin of it in the deepest part of me somewhere. My eyes water and I desperately will myself not to be shamed by my womanly emotions. I close my eyes and let his words sink in.

_Suffocatio - he thinks she's beautiful_.

Something about the way he said it made me believe him and I never believe people when they complement me, my art or "work" as he referred to it. I stand there with my eyes closed and actually... believe him.

Now, I'm the one that's lost. I'm in my own place and for a few seconds, it's peaceful. In the deep of it, for these few precious seconds, it's peaceful until, I feel the soft touch of Zak's fingers brushing my cheek and my eyes flutter open. What – the – fuck?

I hadn't realized he had crossed to me. That weird pull of energy is there again. Something is pulling me to this man and by the look in his eyes I can tell that he feels it too. So maybe – maybe I'm not crazy. He steps closer to me until I feel his warm breath on my face. He leans down and cups my face.

_Is he going to kiss me?_ God...his touch feels so good. I want him to do it. I want to feel his lips on mine so badly. I guess my eyes tell him everything that he needs to know, I swear he is about to do it when Thembi walks in on us. The sound of her voice breaks the magic. Was it even magic? I don't even know how to feel about it, so I let it go. Zak lets his hands fall from my face as we regard his sister. She's on the phone rambling about fashion and school.

"Yes, it's 100% human hair and Ayanda's going to give it to me. I can't wait to put it on," she says, screaming at the phone like a typical high school township girl. I catch on to her conversation. The deal is that she would help me remove my weave and then I would give it to her. Apparently it's Brazilian hair and not Indian hair but either way, it can be reused after a good wash. Zak and I exchange looks and I move away from him awkwardly. I have to keep the distance when it comes to this man apparently because that was all too sinfully weird just now between us. "Would you like something to drink?" I ask him and he nods.

"What have you got? Some beer would be nice." I head to the kitchen and he follows after me in slow steps. I look at him over my shoulder. He's wearing a stupid grin on his face that's making me feel weird.

"Nice apartment," he says when he catches me looking at him. He takes a seat on one of the three high chairs next to the counter and winks. "Thanks. It's actually, my friend's apartment, I'm just staying here with her for a little while, until I get back on my feet." I'm still feeling weird and giddy inside as I open the fridge. There's no beer though.

"I can't remember where Ashley keeps the beer," I say apologetically. "I don't drink beer, so I wouldn't know," I quickly add when he raises a brow at me. "Of course you don't, you're too fucken uptight," Zak says, laughing at me. I can't believe this man. Then he has the audacity to point at the fridge. I give him a "duh, I just looked in the fridge look" and he laughs again.

"Not much of a drinker, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do drink," I spit out defensively, as if admitting that I drink is something to be proud of.

"Sure you do, let me guess, wine right? You look like a spoilt, suburbs wine girl," he teases and this time, despite my annoyance, I actually laugh.

"I'm from Soweto, you asshole and yes, I am a fucken wine girl." Zak nods in amusement and flashes me a, lop sided grin. I'm smiling like an idiot for some odd reason. Maybe it's that mischievous grin of his \- Infectious.

"Would you like some wine instead because I certainly know where that stays," I joke.

"Sure, only if you'll have a glass with me."

"Deal," I respond stupidly and even offer him my hand to shake. We both laugh but my chuckle is cut short when he actually takes my hand in his and shakes it. I feel all weird again as he holds on to my hand a little too long. Colours go off in my head like a spinning kaleidoscope. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ I'm like a stupid girl with a crush in a really lame romance flick.

Strangely, the rest of the night goes really well. We're all lost in easy conversation as Thembi carefully removes my weave, making sure not to cut my natural hair in the process. Zak tells us about his travels around the world and the many places he has seen, Paris, Tokyo, New York and even Italy.

"Did you get to see Rome?" I can't help the excitement in my voice. Rome is like, my dream destination. "Yep, the city is a walking embodiment of art," Zak says.

"I want to go to Paris," Thembi squeals and Zak and I both laugh.

"Of course you do," I tease her. I can already feel that Thembi is almost done with my hair. The weave is off and is splattered on the couch we're seated on. Zak is sitting on the opposite side sipping his second glass of wine, watching me like he's fascinated by the art that is black women and hair. Men – they just don't fucken get it.

"What!" I snap at him and he laughs, shaking his head in enlightenment. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you what I'm thinking," he says with cheesy certainty in his voice that has me scowling.

"Amuse me anyway," I challenge him

"You look beautiful with your hair like that Ayanda, it suits you. I don't know why you put that shit on your head," he says mockingly. I automatically feel on my thick soft curls that are now loose, all around my forehead and shoulders and stare at Zak, letting his words sink in. I say nothing though because I don't need to explain myself to this arrogant man. He doesn't need to know that I'm not the kind of girl who usually puts on fake hair and weaves to begin with. He doesn't need to know a damn thing about me.

"I can handle it from here Thembz. Thanks." Getting up, I snatch the comb from Thembi, suddenly irritated and walk to the long glass mirror, admiring myself. Geez, my hair looks wild but it's grown and I know it will look lovely after a good wash.

"Are you sure I can have this weave? Some of us don't have long hair Zak, we actually like fake hair," Thembi says defensively as she collects the hair and folds it neatly into a plastic. "It's all yours dear," I assure her.

I tie my hair up into an untidy bun and then help Thembi pack up. I feel Zak's dark gaze imploring my every move. He says nothing as we tidy up, doesn't even help but once in a while, when I look up at him, his eyes meet mine in a deep dark lock that paralyzes me for a few awkward beats. By the time we are done cleaning up, it is nine. I'm hungry as hell and Ashley still isn't home.

"All done?" Thembi tells Zak. He nods and turns to me.

"I'm taking my little sister out to dinner, join us?" I swallow hard, contemplating his request. I'm starving and Ash and I haven't gone grocery shopping yet but still, I have to refuse his offer. I just have to – for my own sanity.

"I think you guys need some brother and sister time now," I explain, brushing off the idea. Thembi shakes her head. "I don't mind at all Aya. You can't stay at home by yourself on a Friday night. Come with us, it will be fun and we're going to King later on." She looks up at her brother with pleading eyes. He laughs but I can see the disapproval despite the humour.

"One, you're under age kiddo and two, we're only going to King, tomorrow night, without you." He turns to me for confirmation and I can't help but smile. "So, will you join us for dinner Ayanda?" Zak asks again.

I'm saved by the sound of the door opening when Ashley walks in. She looks super exhausted and she actually has her heels off for once. Her feet are bare and she drops her heels on the floor in a loud thump. Running her fingers through her hair, she smashes the door to a close.

"I had the worst date of my life. I mean, he was, so not a gentleman. He didn't even open doors for me or pull-out a chair for me at that cheap restaurant. For God's sake, he didn't even walk me to the door when he dropped me off, thank God, he didn't though. You should've seen him Aya, he was hot for nothing. Piercing blue eyes, muscles and -" Ashley stops herself when she finally realizes I have company.

"Oh, Thembz, hi lovey," she says and then turns her gaze to Zak. "And hello Mr handsome," she adds, winking at him in approval. He raises a brow at her but thank God, I see a ghost of a smile creep up on his face.

"Ashley, Thembi just came by to help me with my hair and this is her older brother Zak." Ashley smirks and then as my words register, her smile vanishes.

"Oh, oh, he's that Zak," she stutters and gives me a knowing look. Zak clears his throat and then reaches out to shake Ashley's hand but she refuses.

"I would say, it's nice to meet you but then I'd be lying. Khaya is a mess because of you," Ashley says and now it's my turn to scowl at her.

Thembi quickly gets a hold of the situation though. She tugs her brother's hand and begins to lead him away. "Ok, I think we really should be leaving now," she says and looks up at her brother. Zak's face is impassive. He doesn't even seem fazed at all by Ashley's rude statement. As Thembi leads him away, Zak looks at me in a silent farewell before he turns and heads for the door.
Chapter 6

Zak

I drop Thembi off at around eleven. She's pretty bummed out about not getting to go to King but I had to put my foot down. She's seventeen years old for crying out loud. It would be inappropriate for me to take her out clubbing. I know for certain that Khaya and mama would never approve and I don't want to give them any more reason to hate me.

_Do they hate me?_ The thought is nauseating.

I turn to Thembi; she looks at me with those pleading eyes. She's adorable but I don't budge. "Please," she begs. I'm smiling but shaking my head at the same time.

"Not going to happen kiddo." She sighs and removes her seat belt. "A girls got to try you know." She's laughs now but it's an exhausted sad laugh. A single tear escapes down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly and looks out the window. I reach for her chin and tug her face gently so she looks at me. More tears chase down her face and she trembles.

I hate it when women cry.

It's the most awkward thing in the world for me. If it was some random girl, I'd be annoyed by now by the damn sobs. Simplified - I'd probably kick the bitch out of my car and drive off. This is different though, all I feel is pain. This is my sister and I love her more than a lot of things in this world. I don't want her to cry. I feel so powerless for not being able to take her pain away so I say the cheesiest line ever that I think I once heard in a movie.

"Hey kiddo, I'll have anything from you but the tears." Once the words are out of my mouth, as ridiculous as they are, I actually really mean them. I'll have anything from her but the tears. This stupid cheesy line makes the right words somehow pour out of me now.

"Don't cry ok. I promise you everything will be alright. I'll make sure of it ok. I'll fix this for you." She nods and I wipe her tears away with my thumb. The gesture seems to move her. She calms a little and then leans in closer to place a kiss on my cheek. I return her gesture with a kiss on her forehead.

She closes her eyes and then seems to magically recover. _God_. Women are the strangest creatures and the fact that my baby sister is slowly becoming one of them strange grown up creatures known as women, scares the shit out of me.

"I don't know why you left us Zak but I'm glad you're back. I forgive you for whatever it is mama and Khaya think you did and I love you. I love you so much Zak." Her words do something to me, they cut me and I have to close my eyes just to stop myself from falling apart in front of her. I'm a man for crying out loud. I have to be strong but how does one respond to something like this. _I love you_.

_Fuck_. I don't remember the last time someone either than some crazy gold-digging bitch, said that to me. I don't know what to make of all these strange feelings inside of me. It's been a rather unsettling day for me after Thembi called me up and asked me to drop her off at that damn Ayanda girl's place of all the places in the fucken world. I couldn't say no, because, well - she's my sister and I'm trying to bond with her again.

Of, all the places in the world though.

I open my eyes and meet Thembi's curious ones. Like an idiot, I say nothing. I give her a sad smile as she steps out of my car. She waves and makes her way into the house. I wait out a bit just to make sure she's safe and then I burn off down the street.

I take the long way back to my complex because I have a lot on my mind and driving helps me think. Clementine is probably still up and I don't feel like company. I'm too distracted. All my thoughts are on all things \- Ayanda. She's been running through my mind all day and seeing her tonight only made shit worse. I died a thousand deaths tonight.

Firstly, it was when I saw her in those ridiculous giant pyjamas of hers that somehow look perfect on her. On another woman, it'd probably look awful. Then it was the painting. I got a crazy vibe from that painting. It grabbed me and burnt into me like a wild flame out of nowhere. The colours were rich, deep and sensual. The girl has a deep soul and for some unknown fucken reason, I'm drawn to it. Ayanda has the soul of an artist...yeah, that's it. She's those weird, crazy painting girls and I – I think she's beautiful. I'm not attracted to her though, I just think she's beautiful. She's beautiful and – and it all, slowly dawns on me.

_She's the one_.

She's exactly what I've been looking for maybe that's why I'm so drawn to her. She's the -

"She's the muse." I actually say it out loud just to hear how it would roll from my tongue. "She's the muse," I say it again, testing how it sounds from my lips and loving it.

I pull up outside my complex and the security lets me in. Inside, I find Clementine seated on the couch with her laptop. She is concentrating on the screen with furrowed brows. She looks like a librarian in her giant reading glasses. Her long blonde dreadlocks are tied up in a huge bun on her head. I'm so excited by my new realization that it's the first thing I blurt out.

"Don't shoot me, I know you've been looking for girls everywhere but I think I found the muse." Clementine looks up at me and raises her curious perfectly shaped blonde brows at me.

"Really." That's all she says. She doesn't seem as excited as I am though but rather annoyed - and she has the right to be. We've been campaigning and auditioning girls for The Muse for months now so I understand her frustration but a part of me wishes she could be just a little bloody thrilled.

"I found the muse Clementine," I murmur and pace around the lounge. Clementine removes her glasses and stretches out on the couch. "After all my hard work, casting all those girls, this better be good Zak," she warns. I look at her with a smirk on my face that I can't wipe off even if I tried as she waits for me to say something. I stand there and contemplate how I'm going to tell her my choice. I go for the straight forward approach.

"Ayanda."

"What about her?" Clementine asks in a tone that lets me know she probably doesn't approve. "She's the muse," I explain. Her mouth drops open and then she laughs. I don't know why this makes me frown. "You're not fucken serious Zak," she says eventually and continues laughing, even rolling off the couch. She laughs so hard that her cheeks turn pink and her eyes water. When she's done, she looks flushed, usually, I would find this amusing. I always thought she looked kind of sexy when she was flushed but right now all I want to do is get the hell away from her. Annoyed, I walk to the kitchen and grab an ice-cold beer. Sitting on top of the counter in a quick move, I drink the whole thing in a manner of seconds.

Clementine walks in after me, completely not fazed at all by my attitude. She places her laptop on the counter next to me and turns the screen in my direction.

"Check out the girls I auditioned before you make any rash decisions," she says and I ignore her. I can't believe I'm fucken catching feelings about this shit but I can't help it. Clementine's reaction to my suggestion doesn't sit well with me.

"What is wrong with you Zak?" she asks and I give her a death stare. I'm very good at those but I know my death stare has never worked on Clementine. She's not threatened by me. She doesn't scare easily, that's why she works for me after all because she has the heart of a warrior. I let this whole topic about The Muse go for now, simply because I need Clementine to help me make sure that things run perfectly smooth tomorrow night at King.

"Everything set for tomorrow?" I ask her. She nods but still looks at me with questioning eyes. "He'll love it. Don't worry about it ok."

"Good."

Without another word, I leave Clementine and go to my room, not to sleep but to mope around about how fucked up my life is. Which is ironic because I'm living my dream, especially now with my new project about to launch. I'll finally be making money off my true passion. Art.

I have all the money that a young man like me could possibly ever dream of. I'm young, black and successful - so I should be fucken happy right? I should be over the moon but the truth of the matter is that - I'm not.

I slump myself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, there's no way I'm going to fall asleep anytime soon. I'm wide awake, so instead I get up and cross to the balcony. It's a deep night, the moon is high and the stars are alive. I head back into my room and search my luggage for my favourite toy in the world. Yes - I'm a gadget guy and my true passion is found behind the lens of a camera.

My favourite thing to do is night photography and a bit of aerial here and there. I've already been capturing a collection of pieces for The Muse. I love the art of capturing a Polaroid, at night. Tonight though, I feel like doing a bit of astrophotography but I left my telescope back in my apartment in New York - so I settle for a bit of digiscoping.

I pull out my small high-tech digital camera which I never travel without and scheme through the pictures. I've been capturing a lot of panoramic pieces for The Muse during my latest travels. I put the camera down and take the binoculars instead. I head back out into the balcony again and look at the stars. I stand there frustrated at myself for feeling - empty and not so inspired anymore in this thing called life.

Chapter 7

Aya

It's Saturday afternoon and my body is immersed in the foamy water of my bath. I'm having a moment of introspection. A lot of things race through my mind like - who exactly determines how a person's life should turn out? What greater being out there designs the outline that makes us believe that by a certain age - this is what you should have achieved?

Who exactly is to say that by sixteen you should have had your first real boyfriend/ girlfriend? Or that by eighteen you shouldn't be a virgin anymore and that by twenty-one, you should have gotten your driver's license and at least own a car. Who exactly is to say that by my age of twenty three, you should already be working your dream job and basically living it up? I sigh and sink further down into the tub.

John Mayer's song "waiting on the world to change" is on repeat on my playlist playing from my Blackberry. In my misery, I start singing along and lose myself in the music. Sometimes, I'm miserable for no reason at all - it's just a feeling that follows me. This realization makes me let out a laugh and I feel stupid for enjoying my own company. That's just how I'm designed though. I'm a solo heart.

"Aya, if you don't get out of that tub anytime soon, I'm going to lose it," Ashley yells as she bombards into the bathroom.

_Gosh, so much for privacy_.

I scowl at her and then get up frantically from the tub. Water splashes out onto the tiles. I reach for my razor and start shaving my legs. Ashley's jaw drops and I see that she desperately wants to say something but chooses not to - for a change. I give her a damning look but she ignores me and smiles that contagious smile of hers that makes me forget how annoying she can be sometimes. I can tell she's about to burst into typical Ashley word vomit that I know I'm probably not going to like.

"So you're actually going to dress up tonight?" she starts in a tone that sounds like she doesn't approve. "A girl's allowed to shave her legs you know."

"I know, it's just that -" she stops herself and then sighs. She runs a hand through her hair and glares at me with concern. Her pretty blue eyes plead with me like an adorable porcelain cat. It's hard to stay mad at her when she does that.

"I just hope that this has nothing to do with - Khaya's brother," she says. Ignoring her, I rinse my legs and get up out of the tub. Ashley's eyes are on me, questioning me the whole time. "Pass me the towel," I tell her. She's still gaping at me but she hands me the damn towel.

"This has nothing to do with Zak ok. We're all going out and I just want to have some fun. You're the one who's always telling me to live a little and besides Khaya agreed to this remember," I explain and I can see the annoyance in Ashley's deep blue eyes.

"You know how badly I want you to get laid right," she says and I raise my hand to stop her from continuing. I can't help it, I laugh and surprisingly despite the seriousness in her tone, Ashley joins me.

This is what I love most about our friendship, no matter how annoyed we get at each other, we still understand each other and a good laugh always eases the tension. I know she means well but this time, she's got it all wrong. This is not about Zak - I remind myself.

"I want you to get laid and I want you to fall in love, just not with the likes of Zak of all the guys in the world Aya, geez. He's hot and all that, but dammit I don't want you to get hurt. He's bad news."

_Tell me something I don't know_. I roll my eyes at her and fasten the towel tighter around my body. My shoulders sag as I make my way pass her. Grabbing my blackberry, I walk away as confidently as I can pretend to be. I head out into my room and get to the task at hand. I blow dry my hair and it flares perfectly around my face. I brush it out neatly and let it fall in curls along my forehead down to my shoulders.

As I'm getting dressed I hear the sound of the doorbell. I fix my dress, steal a glance at the mirror and then dash out to go get the door but Ashley beats me to it. I stand by the passage fiddling with my unusually short dress and sigh.

"If it isn't the certified Doctor and, the Pharamacist," Ashley says as she steps aside to let Khaya and my brother in. "Hey Ash." Khaya kisses her on the cheek as he walks in but Jabu doesn't move. He just stands by the door glaring at me with daggers. I'm standing by the passage, wondering what the hell I did since the last time I saw my brother to deserve this damning look from him. Ashley and Khaya follow Jabu's gaze and now they're all staring at me. _What the hell did I do?_

"You're not getting out of here dressed like that," Jabu tells me and I squirm.

So typical of my brother, always ever so over-protective and why the hell is he coming with us anyway, this is the last thing I need. Ashley, being the good friend that she is comes to my aid. She jabs my brother lightly on the arm and gives him a pleading look. He rolls his eyes at her and steps inside. Annoyed, Ashley closes the door and turns to me. She does an observation of my black lace dress and nods approvingly.

"You look good Aya."

I smile at her appreciatively and meet Khaya's gaze. "You do look beautiful Ayanda, as always," he tells me. I wrap my arms around him and sigh whispering in his ear.

"Can we talk?" Khaya's arms tighten around me and he nods. God – I've missed him, I've missed my white light. We head out into my room and I slam the door after him. Fiddling with my barely there dress. I let out my frustration and nerves on dear old Khaya, as always.

"Jabu can be so annoying. This dress is not even that short, is it?" I ask. Khaya gives me a "you seriously did not just ask me that question" kind of look. I slump myself on the bed in frustration, uncaring of the fact that my dress is rising up to reveal my underwear. Sometimes I'm immune to the fact that Khaya is a man because - I'm so comfortable around him. Maybe, it's because he's never actually dated anyone that I know of. Embarrassed by his silence, I fix my dress and look up at him. He's unmoving and unblinking for a few beats. I can't get over this awkwardness around us lately. It's never been there before. Frowning, I force my mind back to Jabu, the heart of my sudden bad mood.

"This is why I never go home," I yell. "The pressure for perfection is killing me," I tell him. My family has always been that way. Striving for perfection - the perfect son, the perfect daughter and the perfect God-fearing parents that raised us, it's all too much now. It's all getting to me and sometimes I'm not even sure who I am anymore.

"Seriously though," I continue dramatically. Khaya laughs and I throw a pillow at him. It's so good to hear him laugh. I've been so worried about him lately.

I get up and sit on my knees. I pat a spot on the bed next to me and Khaya comes to slump himself there. "How are things?" He frowns but then his eyes soften. I take his hand in mine and will him to say something because the more he keeps things bottled up inside, the higher the chances that it will trigger his bipolar again. He hasn't had a real melt-down in years - over a year or two now actually. That day of Zak's arrival nearly pushed him over the edge though.

"Mama is not well. I'm just worried about her," he says and I wonder exactly what he means by that. Is his mother not well again in terms of her health or because of Zak's return? All of this can't be easy on her. I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this than what meets the eye. "It will get better," I tell him. Khaya smiles and pulls me closer. I rest my head against his shoulder for a while - enjoying the comfort we always find in one another. Sometimes it overwhelms me how much I mean to him. The pressure of it all - of never letting him down especially with his condition gives me anxiety sometimes. I find myself worrying about him almost every day.

"You're my life support Ayanda. With you by my side, I know that, I can do anything. I can do anything Aya; maybe even defeat this thing – my sickness." Khaya breathes and I close my eyes at his words and let them sink in. There's something about the way he spoke that makes me feel guilty – for what? I'm not sure. I don't know why I feel guilty but I do. Maybe, it's just the pressure of being someone's everything. He's told me before that I'm his everything and every time, no matter how he makes these bold declarations of love - I still feel a deep discomfort in the pit of my stomach.

"I feel like I haven't been there for you lately," I murmur. Khaya turns to face me properly and I look up at him nervously. We face each other and I see something in his eyes although I can't really decipher what it is. All I know is that, he's never looked at me like this before. He cups my face and speaks with so much conviction that my heart feels trapped in clay. My heart wants to leap out of my chest. I want to hide. I want to crawl away somewhere - anything to stop him from looking at me like this.

"You are enough for me Aya, just the way you are ok."

I nod uncomfortably. Again, this is weird because I never get uncomfortable around Khaya. There is a change in him that I can't put my finger on. There is a change in the moment too it seems - more for him than for me because I now feel his lips press against mine in the most gentle of kisses.

What the hell is happening?

I freeze even though everything inside me is screaming. The blood slows in my veins. I want to respond, I want to delve into this kiss and swim in ecstasy but I don't. I'm just so numb and unmoving like hard clay.

Why the hell did he have to go and do that...why?

Khaya kisses me softly and I try by all means to respond but I don't. I just sit there and feel his lips brush awkwardly against mine. When he senses my discomfort and lack of enthusiasm, he stills and shuts his eyes, squeezing them in pain. His hands drop from my face and something inside me breaks.

I feel a single tear escape down my cheek and I try to wipe it away before he notices. His eyes remain closed for an agonizing minute and seeing him like this only makes me feel even more terrible inside. Unable to hold it in anymore, I break and the tears fall in waves. I try to suppress my sobs but fail miserably. At the sound of my squeal, Khaya's eyes flutter open and he looks into me with so much emotion, pain and guilt reflecting in his brown depths.

"I'm so sorry Aya. I...I don't know what came over me. You're just -" He stops himself and breathes in a lungful of air.

"You're just so beautiful Ayanda. I am...I am only a man," he whispers and I want to burst again. The numbness won't go away even as I shake my head, reaching for Khaya's hand but he moves away. He gets up from the bed as if I've just burnt him with my touch and paces the room. I panic. I jump from the bed and cross to him, grabbing his arm, desperately pulling him towards me and trying to calm him.

"Khaya, I'm sorry ok. I really am. I want to feel something so bad. I want to feel something. I want fireworks, I really do, but...but I need time ok," I stutter. When I upset Khaya, I always feel like I'm walking on egg shells. I get so scared that he'll burst any second and lay it on me like a mentally unfit person. I know that he would never hurt him but still - I get scared. I get terrified that one day - it will all be too much for him. I know that his medication has been working but still, I always worry about him. I will always worry about this man that I love so much. He's been through a lot and sometimes, I wonder when all this beautiful white light around will die out. When it will all, be too much for him. Khaya lets his hand trail up to my cheek in the softest of touches.

"It's ok Aya. It's, ok, I'll wait for you. I'll wait for you for as long as it takes. I love you Ayanda. I've always loved you," he tells me and wipes my damp cheeks with his thumb. I squeeze my eyes shut a little and revel in his touch.

"I love you too Khaya. I really do," I say and I always mean it. I really do love Khaya. He's my best friend, my rock and now, he wants us to be more but I don't think I'm ready. Something is holding me back, a part of me deep down inside knows what it is but I'm not willing to admit it yet, not even to myself. Khaya says nothing but his eyes do all the talking for him. He just looks at me with an emptiness that breaks my heart into a million little pieces. There's a questioning in his eyes that I can't decipher. He's always been able to see right through me like I'm transparent glass, to sense when something is wrong with me. I look away from him out of nervous habit and his eyes follow me as I go about my dressing.

I grab my make-up bag and attempt to glam up my look again because I probably look like a horror show after all my sobbing.

"You would tell me if something was wrong right?" Khaya asks me and I nod. He moves to the door and then steals one more glance at me. I can tell he wants to say something but reluctantly he stops himself and I'm grateful because I don't think I'm ready to hear the truth of whatever it is that's burning him right now. His gaze drops to my make-up bag that I now place on the counter and he sighs. This time I know exactly what he's thinking. _You never wear make-up Aya_.

It's not like I've never worn make-up before, matter of fact, I don't leave the house without a bit of eye-liner and gloss anyway. Tonight is different though, I'm going full on glam. It's been a while since I've gone out and I want to have a good time. I want to feel beautiful and I want to lose myself on the dance floor with pure abandon.

"I'll leave you to it then," Khaya says and I give him a forced smile. _Great_ , now our so called celebration night will be awkward and to make matters worse, my brother will be watching me like a hawk. After applying some eye-liner and a coat of mascara, I finish off my look with some red lipstick. Feeling bold, I pull out my only pair of heels, black pumps with a red bottom. I put them on and steal one more glance at the mirror. Now, I'm ready to party, maybe even drink a little too much wine and forget all about my sorrows.

Chapter 8

Zak

The vibe at King tonight is crazy. The girls are barely dressed and the guys are thirsty, feeling on every beautiful girl like vultures so I had to Amp up security. I have a feeling it's going to be one of those wild nights. People's pockets are full and everyone just wants to have a good time. The King in Rosebank is my main branch in Johannesburg. When I'm in town, this is where I work from. I stare out at the view downstairs from my office. The wide glass windows are tinted, so whoever's in here can see what's going on outside but those down by the club can't see what's going on up here. I glance at my watch, feeling anxious.

Knowing my brother, he might not come tonight and a part of me can't help but worry. Frustrated, I sit back down on my office chair and stare at my laptop. I have tons of emails to respond to from clients and associates all around the world. I try to get some work done as a distraction. As I get into it, there's a knock on the door. Five seconds later, Clementine peeps in before I even invite her in. "What," I bark without looking up from my laptop screen.

"Well, aren't you just a cranky one tonight, actually, you've been cranky since last night Zak, what's up?" She sits on the chair opposite mine. "Talk to me buddy," she adds.

"I have a lot on my mind ok." I get up from my chair to go stare out at the scene downstairs from the window again. I undo my tie and let it hang loosely around my neck. Clementine spins her chair around and does a slow observation of me.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I smile at her question despite myself and raise a brow at her. From the look on her face, I can tell that she doesn't think I look bad at all.

"I had a late meeting," I explain and she laughs. It's the truth though. I'm wearing a navy H&M suit tonight because I was caught up in a late meeting. I like looking smart when I'm out here at King because I want to make a statement. I'm the boss around here and people better recognize. This is my fortress, the sweat and tears of all my hustle.

"You clean up nicely Mr Nkosi." Clementine reaches for the compact camera that's on my desk and aims the flash at me. I shy away before she takes the shot. She gets up to stand beside me and I make an observation of her. The girl looks ravishing as usual, sexy, in her way too tight jeans and low cut blouse.

"I need a smoke," I tell her. She reaches into her jeans pocket and slips one out. I light it up and we smoke, passing the bud around in turns. I snake her waist and we stare out at the scene. The DJ seems to be killing the set because the dance floor is packed. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Releasing Clementine, I slip it out. "It's Khaya," I mouth to her before I answer. "Hey bro," I say and Khaya actually laughs. Don't know why hearing him chuckle makes me smile. _Damn_. Maybe after tonight, we'll actually get somewhere.

"There's a long ass queue out here bro," Khaya says over the phone. He actually sounds excited.

"No worries, I'll come down and get you guys." I put the phone back into my pocket and head downstairs, using the elevator. Clementine follows me and together we make our way through the crowd. Once outside, I spot my brother's face and wave at him. He looks super uncomfortable as he crosses to me. His friends following in slow steps behind him. I spot Jabu's tall lanky frame too. It's been years since I last saw Jabu. He looks different somehow, more confident and proud. I remember how he would walk Ayanda to our house when we were kids so she could hang out with Khaya while the two of us got up to shit.

Over the years, we grew apart, of course - especially after I dropped out of high-school and all those crazy rumours about me were the talk of the whole of Soweto. After that, Jabu being the goody two shoes that he is wanted nothing to do with me. I don't miss his friendship at all. Jabu and I are two different people now. We are worlds apart. He's a big shot doctor and well, I'm me. I'm a rich fucked up piece of shit.

"Hey, big bro," Khaya says when he reaches me. We clasp hands and pat each other on the back. Over Khaya's shoulder, my gaze meets Ayanda's.

Shit.

She looks - she looks really good actually _._ When she's not wearing hippo sized childish pyjamas or fake hair, she actually looks hot. I don't know why she amazes me because she's not hot, hot, she's just really beautiful. In fact - she looks fucken beautiful tonight, in a pixie sort of way. I freeze like an idiot transfixed in her, lost in her wide innocent eyes. And just like that, we're doing it again, me and her, that thing that we do. We're doing it again. When she looks at me like this, it's enchanting, like I'm under her spell. I almost choke as Khaya releases me from his clasp, breaking the spell that I was trapped in.

I force myself to recover and shake Jabu's hand. "Welcome man." Jabu shrugs but gives me a crooked smile. I see he's still uptight as fuck too, guess some things just don't change much. "We are getting VIP right?" Ashley asks and I give her a lopsided grin. _What the fuck does this girl take me for?_

"I'm the King of the castle around here babe," I tell her as calmly as I can. Ashley's eyes make a judgmental study of me. She looks me up and down with her dark blue eyes, like I'm an annoying piece of gum caught in her heel or something. Looking away, she whispers something in Ayanda's ear. Ayanda smiles and again, my world stops. _God._ She has a heavenly smile and those legs... _damn_. She looks beautiful. I secretly admit it to myself. She looks fucken beautiful. Like a cute little pixie, in a short black lace dress and heels. I don't know why I'm finding her so enchanting as of late.

_I don't find her attractive. She's not my type._ I remind myself. She stares at me again and something really weird happens. It's like she's acknowledging my presence with her eyes. We don't say anything to one another but I can tell that she understands as much as I do that, this is a greeting. I keep the contact until she looks away. Like an idiot, I feel like I've just won this round when she looks away - one point for me then. I can't help the ridiculous grin on my face right now. "Are you guys coming?" Clementine yells from the entrance. I turn to her and lead the crowd inside.

The group follows me, past the bar section and into the passage leading to the VIP lounge. The lights are dim to a low this side and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling give the place an eccentric glow. I lead them all to the long black V-shaped leather couch and we all take our seats. Khaya, Jabu and I sit on the first half of the couch while Ashley and Ayanda plump themselves on the other side so they can face us. Clementine is about to get on the decks so she excuses herself and goes to prepare for her set. A waiter approaches us, Sarah, a cute red headed girl with a tight red dress on too. All my staff is required to wear red on Saturday nights. It's my favourite colour and I like the elegance it gives off. This is certainly no ratchet club. "Good evening. Can I take your orders?" Sarah asks.

"The usual for me Sarah and maybe some wine for the girls?" I suggest. Ayanda nods and looks at her friend.

"A strawberry daiquiri for me please," Ashley squeals.

"Should I bring some Gin and tonic for the rest of the guys too?" Sarah asks when Jabu and Khaya say nothing. I nod in approval but Jabu frowns. "I don't drink and I had no idea my little sister suddenly fancies alcohol," he says as he regards Ayanda. Her face is impassive and Ashley rolls her eyes. _Damn,_ _the dude really is uptight_.

"Oh come on Jabs, lighten up. A girl is allowed to have a glass of wine when she feels like it," Ashley says.

"It had better be just that, a single glass of wine Ayanda," Jabu threatens.

This is going to be an annoying night, I can already tell. "Let's just have a coke for now Jabs," Khaya says. Sarah gives us an awkward smile and turns to walk away but I stop her. "Bring a bottle of champagne first." The girl nods and when she returns, she hands me the bottle and waits to help me with the glasses. I open the bottle in a loud snap and all the gold liquid spills down my hand. Filling up the glasses, I raise mine up so we all share a toast.

"To Khaya, the first graduate in the Nkosi family, well done bro, I'm so proud of you."

"To Khaya!" Ashley and Ayanda scream out in unison and clink their glasses. Khaya smiles and raises his glass to meet mine and then Jabu's.

"And to my brother, now officially known as Doctor Miya, congratulations Jabs," Ayanda says and we all raise our glasses again before we take another sip. I gulp mine down in a single intake just to calm my nerves.

The night although boring goes surprisingly well as we all "try" to get along \- long enough to even call it an outing. Once settled enough, Ashley and Ayanda enjoy a few rounds on the dance floor. These girls have energy for days. They seem to be on a mission to get sloshed though, which kind of worries me because usually when people do that, all I predict is trouble. Khaya, Jabu and I are still seated on the couch by the VIP lounge, trying to immerse ourselves in meaningless conversation. We share a few laughs here and there but somehow, we all can't keep our eyes away from the girls - Ayanda to be exact.

She's been drinking a lot. A whole bottle of wine all on the own and I can see that Khaya and Jabu are just as worried about her as I am. They keep looking at her in that overprotective way that, guys do for a girl they care about. Feeling exasperated, I sip on my Gin and watch as, Ashley approaches a couple of guys. She engages herself in conversation with a blonde eyed giant of a man who keeps feeling on her ass. Ayanda on the other end is left on the dance floor pondering her next move, until she starts dancing freely on her own.

My heart is thudding like a loud drum as I watch her move along the dance floor under the crimson dark lights - it's the strangest thing. In my mind it's like she's moving to the sound of my heartbeat. I'm transfixed on her and enjoying the feeling of watching her dance – from afar. From my moments with her, she's always seemed so guarded and constantly aware of herself. I've never seen her look as free as she does now. It's a beautiful sight. For a moment, I envy her pure abandon. She's alone, unaware of a damn thing until a random guy approaches her.

He creeps up behind her and they start dancing, grinding up on each other seductively without a care in the world. This makes me extremely uncomfortable. It's taking every bit of self-control I have to not get up, cross to her and punch the living daylights out of this guy.

I'm fighting the urge to lash out on this fool so badly and he keeps feeling on her damn ass. His hands are everywhere now and I want to burst inside. But I can't just go and punch the living daylights out this guy. That would just be weird right? Ayanda is a grown woman and she most certainly doesn't owe me a damn thing. I have no business interfering in whatever it is she gets up to on a so called "night out" even if it involves ass fondling and a lot of X-rated grinding. _Fuck_. I'm feeling really annoyed. Even more frustrated about the fact that Ayanda is acting like I don't even exist. She hasn't said a word directly to me all night.

_Why do I even want her to acknowledge me?_ I turn to Khaya and Jabu - for Ayanda's sake, they don't seem to be aware of what she's up to right now. They're engaged in a deep boring conversation about science and medicine and they've made it pretty clear that my company is of no interest to them anymore. Not that I care - I like it just fine that my brother and his boring ass friend are ignoring me. These two are just too damn uptight anyway. I find the prospect of getting some work done way more entertaining than sitting around here trying to please my brother or getting blue balls at the sight of this damn Ayanda girl.

"I have a few important phone calls to make," I announce to Khaya and Jabu. They nod without even looking at me.

Frustrated, I get up and leave. I steal one more glance at Ayanda before I turn and walk towards the elevator and up to my office. I guess I'm really not into this clubbing thing anymore. I had forgotten that it's never really been my thing to begin with even during my wild days. I've always preferred drinking by myself just to numb the pain or getting high off that green shit.

I've never been one to go out clubbing much. I just fucken own a club because the money is good. What can I say - I'm a greedy man. I wanted it all - the cars, the lifestyle and the pretty women. The way I'm feeling tonight makes me see things in a different light though.

I'm just over it.

I want more but I'm just not sure what more is yet. I reach the sixth floor, lock myself in my office and get straight to work, not bothering to put the light on. I function better in the dark anyway despite my fear. I open my email and respond to a few requests from clients then I get to working on my proposal for The Muse.

After a good half an hour or so of working on the proposal, my desk phone rings, whenever my phone rings at 12: am on a night like this, it means there's a problem downstairs _. Fuck_. I answer it in annoyance. "What?"

"There's a problem," the security guy on the other end of the line replies nervously. "What?" I bark out again, irritated because I obviously want to know what the bloody problem is that they can't fucken handle on their own. I mean really. What am I paying these guys for, if they going to call me every time there's a bloody problem.

"It's your brother and his friend. They're causing a scene. Should we kick them out?"

"No." I slam the phone down in a loud bang and get up. I stare down at the scene from the large windows. I don't see anything at first but then I notice a group of people gathered around Khaya and Jabu, who are shoving away some random guy, the same one who was dancing with Ayanda earlier.

_Shit, this could get ugly real quick_. I remove my tie, toss it on the table and then make my way out.

When I reach the scene, I'm screaming at the security to back off as I manoeuvre my way through the crowd. When I get there - I grab Jabu by the shoulders and pull him away from a guy he's confronting. We're the same height but I'm bigger than him, so his struggles go to waste. He calms when I give him a damning look, before I turn away and search the crowd for the girls. I have no idea where Ashley is but I spot Ayanda's tiny frame a few feet away from me. She's exchanging words with Khaya. From where I'm standing, I can hear what they're saying.

"What the hell are you doing?" Khaya asks her. Ayanda's trying to break free from Khaya's strong grip on her arm. I want to go over there and ask him what's going on but Ashley's voice distracts me. I turn my attention back to Jabu and he's tackling a guy again.

"Stay away from my sister," Jabu yells. Ashley runs up to Jabu and tries to stop him but his elbow knocks her in the face and she cries out a little more dramatically than she should have.

"You...You hit me Jabu," she squeals in disbelief. I can tell she's all kinds of drunk though because she can't even stand straight. Her rambling is enough to get Ayanda's attention. Forcing herself from Khaya's hold, Ayanda runs to Ashley. _Fuck_. This is getting out of hand and soon enough I'll be forced to let security deal with them if they all just don't get their shit together. I grab Jabu by the arm and shove him off a guy he's confronting. The guy runs like a wimp back to his group of friends. The big blonde giant of a guy Ashley was talking to earlier in the group disappears with her. Jabu on the other hand is still fuming when I address him.

"You have to go man, or else I'm going to have to escort you out of here myself." With pure venom, his eyes burn into mine.

"Ayanda, let's get out of here," Jabu yells and grabs his sister by the arm. Ayanda pulls away and I can see the tears already forming in her eyes.

_Is he hurting her?_ Damn, this shit doesn't sit well with me. "I'm not going anywhere with you Jabu, not when you want to act like a moron," Ayanda sobs. Jabu strikes at her but she moves away frantically and bumps into Khaya's chest.

_Shit._ This guy did not just try and hit a girl again in my club and this time it's not just any girl, I don't give a damn about Ashley but when it comes to Ayanda, I might just lose my cool.

I'm not even gentle now when I grab Jabu by the arm and practically drag him out of my club. Khaya follows after me. I drag Jabu out and force myself not to punch him for almost attacking his own sister. I shove at his chest as we size each other up and then I feel Khaya's hand on my arm pulling me away. From the corner of my eye I see Jabu creep away towards the parking lot. _Bastard got away_.

"Jabu's drunk Zak. He's had a bit too much to drink."

"I can see that," I yell and shake my head in disgust. A man who can't control his liquor is a weak man in my eyes and even worse, a man who can strike at a woman is just pathetic. _Fuck._ I'm just so pissed off and I just really want to go check on Ayanda.

"Sorry for all this man, I really don't know why Ayanda was behaving that way. It's very unlike her, you know. Jabu was only looking out for her. He's over protective," Khaya says and I just look at him. This night - like I predicted, is a fucken disaster and I don't even have the energy to stand here and listen to Khaya defend Jabu.

"No matter how protective you are as a man, there's no excuse for hitting a woman, that's just my view," I say to Khaya. I just don't give a damn about anything but Ayanda right now. _I wonder if she has to succumb to her brother's violent ways often_. The thought alone makes me want to beat the living daylights out of her brother.

"Why don't you make sure Jabu gets home safely and I'll take care of the girls?" I suggest when Khaya's quiet for too long. I can't tell what he's thinking but I can see he doesn't trust me with the job of getting the girls home safely. The doubt is evident in his eyes but I don't care enough to defend myself. I just want this over and done with. Khaya lets out a frustrated breath and then nods reluctantly.

"Ayanda doesn't want anything to do with me tonight so, what the heck," he says eventually and there's a deep melancholy to his voice that makes me uncomfortable but I don't ponder on it. I let him walk away defeated with his shoulder's sagging.

_Damn,_ _my brother has it bad for this girl._ I watch him turn to walk towards the parking lot. He stops abruptly and looks at me again.

"Thanks for tonight Zak and please, please look after my Ayanda for me ok," he says and there it is again, that sadness in his eyes that grips at me. My anger dissipates as I realize the true intent of my brother's words. This is the most brotherly moment we've ever had. This is an act of trust on his part and despite being annoyed by the turn of events tonight, I'm grateful for the trust that I feel between us in this moment.

"Don't worry about it ok. She's in good hands," I assure him. He smiles at me and it's actually a genuine smile. I wave him goodbye and he turns to go. I rush back inside and spot Ayanda sitting by the bar section.

_Shit_. The bloody girl is drinking again, a shot this time and I reach her just before she gulps it down. When she sees me, she stands to go but almost falls. I snake my arm around her waist and support her before she hits the floor. "You've had way too much to drink Ayanda," I whisper in her ear and she has the audacity to laugh. She has the nerve to fucken laugh at everything that's just happened tonight that's mostly of her own fault. She tries to break free from me but instead her lousy attempt only makes her fall towards my chest. I tighten my hold on her and she seems to relax a bit.

I let her rest her head against my chest as she tries to compose herself and then I hear a sob coming from her. _A crying woman again_... _Great, just what I fucken need_. I lift her chin up with my finger. She looks at me with wide sad eyes. Then she pushes me away with a shove at my chest as if she's embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she confesses quietly. "What are you sorry for Ayanda?"

She shakes her head. I let her go but she swirls again. She puts a hand on her temple and squeals in pain. "My head hurts."

"Well, that's because you're drunk," I say irritably and she laughs again. _Shit, this girl is just weird_. One minute she's crying and the next she's laughing - a sexy as hell kind of laugh too.

Fuck, _Focus Zak, Focus_. I remind myself.

Now she does the most absurd thing ever. She puts her hands up and does a strange little jump before staggering towards me foolishly. I reach for her again in epic speed and she wraps her arms around my neck for support.

Damn, her arms around my neck - why does this feel so good?

"I'm actually drunk." There's a childlike excitement to her voice that has me laughing despite my annoyance. I can't help it _._ I laugh out like an idiot before it hits me.

_Does she mean she's never been drunk before?_ I ponder and my right frame of mind returns. I need to sober her up. She clearly can't walk on her own in the state she's in. So I scoop her up over my shoulders and carry her up the stairs to my office. She's giggling the whole way like a little girl and talking to herself incoherently. I avoid the elevator because it might make her puke, taking the stairs instead. She's not heavy, so I manage quickly up the stairs just fine. When we reach my office, I lay her down gently on the couch and she relaxes, making herself right at home on my very expensive white couch.

_Fuck,_ _I hope she doesn't puke._

She stretches herself out on the couch like a porcelain cat and I go about making her a strong cup of coffee. I put on the coffee machine and measure every scoop carefully, making sure to make it as strong as possible.

"Coffee is a good remedy to sober up a drunk, so I heard," I tell her, honestly not meaning it as a joke but she laughs. Ok - I guess she's one of those people who laugh a lot when they're drunk.

"I'm not a drunk," she tells me in that childish tone that I find adorable and sexy as hell all at the same time. _What the fuck is wrong with you Zak_. My brain is screaming. I steal a glance at her over my shoulder and catch her rolling her pretty brown eyes at me.

_Damn, this girl though._ Even when drunk and with dark damp mascara rings around her eyes - the girl is a beauty. She's like the perfect portrait - a photographer's dream. I imagine what it would be like to take a picture of her at night under the moon light's glow. She has the perfect face for my new brand and an innocence about her that has me captivated. Her big brown eyes would probably look into the camera and tell a thousand stories. Her dark golden skin would probably glow in the light like a radiation of flames and her soft full lips - well at least I imagine that her lips are probably very, very soft. _Shit_. I'm losing my fucken mind.

I pour her a cup of coffee and switch off the machine, kneeling in front of her, I hand it to her. Her eyes are on mine the whole time as she takes the cup from me, her fingers brushing against mine a little too long before she takes a sip. She drinks up the coffee in silence. I take a seat next to her and watch her - wondering what the hell is going on in that pretty little head of hers. She seems lost in another world but I can see her common sense is slowly returning. She's quiet and she's no longer giggling like a drunk, school girl. She's just sitting there clasping her mug and gulping down the hot content like it's, cold water.

We sit in silence for a long time. The low light of the lamp on my desk adds to the damp mood of the night. I hate the dark - actually I'm terrified of it but I don't turn on the main lights, figuring she'd prefer it this way due to her probably throbbing head.

"What's it like?" she asks and finally looks at me. "What's it like to have all of this?" She gestures at our surroundings. I don't even ask her to elaborate. I already know what she means. I've been asked this question a lot of times. It usually annoys me because people ask it like they assume it was easy for me to obtain all of this wealth. I worked my ass off to get here. I sacrificed a lot, made a few illegal decisions and even gave up my family to realize my dreams but somehow - I'm not annoyed with her. It's the way she asked it, there was something in her voice, a longing that I recognize from a deep part of my memory. I've been there before. I've longed for success. I've longed for answers. I've longed for validation in this thing called life.

"It feels fucken amazing," I tell her and that's the truth. She laughs, a low sad laugh and then makes herself more comfortable next to me. She stretches her legs out on my lap and I can't help it - I run my hands up and down her exposed thighs and feel the softness of her tempting skin. The heat is everywhere as my hands graze her skin. My body comes to life and I have to suck in a breath to come to myself again. She doesn't seem to mind me touching her though, she closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them again, there's so much longing in their depths. It's like she's pulling me in to where ever it is her mind is at right now and once again - I can't look away.

"I don't know what to do with my life," she confesses quietly. This takes me by surprise but a part of me is glad that she's opening up to me. I hate having conversations like this with people but then again - I don't seem to mind when it comes to this girl. I don't really know what to say to that because I've always known what I wanted. I've never - not known what to do with my life so I choose to say nothing for now. I keep my eyes on her though, assuring her that I'm here and that I'm listening. She looks away as if bracing herself for what she's about to say and smiles sadly.

"Who goes through five years in university studying towards something as prestigious as psychology only to quit?" she asks me. The answer comes to me immediately this time and I practically blurt it out.

"A person who knows what they don't want." She looks up at me, shocked and confused by my words as if, what I've just said has never occurred to her before. I can see she wants me to explain myself so I do just that.

"A person who knows what they don't want automatically knows what they do want. So what do you want Ayanda?" I ask her. She blinks at me a couple of times in shock as she ponders my words once more. She leans her head back against the head rest of the couch and closes her eyes. I have the privilege of looking at her beautiful profile freely now. Damn, I really want her as my muse. The girl is beautiful.

_Come on Zak, just ask her_. Like a coward, I say nothing. I just sit there and look at her patiently. "What do I want?" she murmurs.

"What do you want Ayanda?" She sucks in a breath but finally looks at me. She smiles and sighs, closing her eyes again.

"I want to be brave Zak. I want to be brave," she breathes. "I want people to look at me and not assume that I'm weak. I don't want to be treated like a fragile little girl who can't do anything for herself. I want to feel like a woman and I want to be free like the wind...you know. Free like the wind." She opens her eyes and looks at me with a ghost of a smile forming on her face.

"That's crazy right, but for now I just want a freaken job Zak. I want to take care of myself," she adds. Somehow, I let the words find a path this time.

"I'm working on a new pet project, an art campaign for a gallery that we want to launch. We're looking for a model for the brand." She removes her legs from my lap and turns from me. "Oh, that's great," she says. I study her but her she's impassive. This girl makes me all kinds of nervous and I find myself stumbling on my words like a moron.

"I'd like it - if you came by sometime to audition for the campaign."

She's laughs and this time, I don't find her laugh amusing or sexy at all, instead I find it annoying. I'm annoyed at her reaction but I don't show it.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me Zak ok," she says with a wave of her hand as if brushing off my offer. "I don't need a Superman. I don't want you to feel sorry for me or try and do me any favours. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I'll get a job or something but I'm not a bloody model ok, let's just get that straight," she says. I don't find her words as disturbing as the manner in which she spoke. It's like she's making stupid excuses to not consider my offer. "I don't feel sorry for you Ayanda and I know you can take care of yourself."

"Then why are you asking me to be your model?" she snaps. Damn, I never knew the girl could be a fire cracker. She's fiddling with her tiny dress that's barely covering her ass as she paces around my office. I can see that she's nervous now and on the verge of some sort of a meltdown, so I cross to her and cup her face. She shoves my hand away with a whole lot of force for such a tiny person. "Don't mock me Zak."

"How am I mocking you?"

"By asking me to be your stupid model," she yells and I'm so puzzled by this, I just stand there and shake my head. Carefully, I take a few steps towards her again and slowly let my finger graze her chin.

"I'm not mocking you Ayanda. I just think you're a beautiful woman," I whisper in controlled exasperation. She looks in to me again with her wide teary eyes. She doesn't say anything for a good few seconds before she swats my hand away from her chin.

_What the fuck_? This is not how a woman should react when you tell her she's beautiful. Now, she's like some deranged diva.

"What is it with you powerful men? Why does it always have to be about oppressing women, possessing her and using her as a sexual object or some kind of sex symbol to sell your brand?" _Shit_. I'm fucken fuming inside at her words.

_Why the hell did she have to go and say that?_ The Muse is a particular project that means the world to me. I won't let this crazy beautiful and obviously insecure little woman put words in my mouth and slander my brand.

"I'm not looking for a sex object or a bloody sex symbol," I tell her and she has the nerve to roll her eyes at me. "I'm not looking for a fucken sex object Ayanda." She frowns and I feel the need to explain myself. If the only way to get through to her is to be a bastard then that is exactly what I will be.

"You see, if I was looking for sex object or a damn sex symbol, I'd go for a hot blonde with big tits like your friend Ashley or maybe even a thick light-skinned girl with a huge ass." I immediately regret my words though because she almost looks offended. _Fuck_. I need to turn this shit around. I need to make her see that she has to consider my offer.

"So...I'm not a sex symbol?" her small voice is barely audible now.

"No," I say blankly because that's the plain fucken truth. I didn't even have to think about that one. She scowls at me. _Damn._ I'll never understand women and this little one regarding me, has got to be the strangest one of them all. I cross to her, willing myself to calm down as I take her delicate hands in mine - her hands are warm like hot liquid in mine.

"You're not a sex symbol Ayanda and I like that. You're a beautiful woman with the kind of rare natural beauty that will attract men and still reach out to women without them envying you. You're a beautiful woman Ayanda with innocence in your eyes that people will love. You're a beautiful woman Ayanda not a fucken sex symbol."

She says nothing but I can see her taking it all in. Her fingers slide through mine and she puts some distance between us. I stand regarding her every move and then I reach for my compact camera. She looks at me and I can see that she understands what I'm asking or rather what I'm challenging her to do. I know from our stare offs that she's not one to back away from a challenge. "Can I show you how beautiful you are?" I ask her. She smiles and my heart feels incandescent in my chest, if that's even possible. I think she finally believes me though.

"I...I'm a mess Zak," she stutters and runs her hand through her dark afro curls. I have this urge to run my fingers through those thick curls of hers myself too. I cross to her again and touch her cheek. She leans in to my touch this time and closes her eyes. "My hair is a mess and my -"

"Shh, you think too much Ayanda." I move my hand from her cheek to her chin. Then I let my index finger frame her full lips slowly. I let out a sharp breath at the sweet sensation it brings me to touch this girl. _Damn_. Her lips feel so soft. She stills and gives me a shy look that instantly drives me crazy. I slip my camera into my trousers pocket and take her hand. I lead her away and she willingly follows me out of my office and we head for the elevator. I press a button and the doors slide open. Her hold tightens and for a second I think she looks terrified.

"You ok?" I ask her. She breathes in and out and then nods. "I'm afraid of heights but, I'll be ok." I give her hand a squeeze and smile. "You're such a brave girl Ayanda, I don't know why, you think you're not." Once again I'm rewarded with her heavenly smile. I keep her hand in mine until we reach the rooftop floor where the elevator comes to a halt. I lead her out, only releasing her hand when I open the large heavy steel door to the roof top. We walk in silence towards the edge. I lean against the railing and take it all in. The view is breathtakingly beautiful. Rosebank is spread out in all its glorious skyscraper buildings. I was right - it's a beautiful night. The moon is high and the stars are full of life.

"I want you right here under the moon," I say, the photographer in me already bursting to life. Ayanda smiles awkwardly and takes careful steps closer to the railing. She looks down at the dizzying view and gasps, putting her hand on her chest in fear, she closes her eyes. She breathes in lungful after lungful of air and then steals a look my way.

_Yep, such a brave girl she is_. I pull out the camera and stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her from behind, so we face the view together. Then I lean down and whisper in her ear.

"Trust me ok." She nods and I turn her away from the view so she's facing me, trapping her between myself and the railing with my arms on either side of her.

"You're so beautiful Ayanda, such a rare gem. I need to capture you."

She looks at me as I take out my camera. "Trust me ok. Just look into the camera and trust me," I murmur as I take a few steps back slowly and prepare to take the first shot. She's watching me with those deep brown eyes of hers, lulling me into some surreal trance of artistic madness. The effect of the city lights and the natural glow of the moon and stars reflect magically on her beautiful face. I aim the flash at her and take the first shot. An adrenaline rush goes off in my veins as I take another shot. _Damn._ She's a natural - this girl, a fucken natural just like I predicted. She doesn't even blink as I take the shots, instead she keeps the contact. Fuck - she's doing some intense things to me right about now.

Her eyes tell a thousand stories as she looks into me through the lens. The damp black smudged mascara and eyeliner around her eyes gives off a retro effect to her beauty. I was right. Ayanda is a photographer's dream.

"You're fucken gorgeous, you know that," I say and take another shot just as she smiles. Finally - I've captured that lovely smile of hers _._

"Zak, that's enough now ok," she says but I hear the humour in her voice. She's enjoying this - I can tell because she's suppressing a laugh. "Let go Ayanda. I know you want to. Let go ok, for me. Just give me this one thing," I murmur when her hands come up to cover her mouth. She laughs despite herself and I have the joy of enjoying the sight of it all. I take the next shot just in time to capture her as she laughs and again and again and again. I feel a surge of adrenaline, rising and rising in the core of my belly. She's doing some intense things to me and she doesn't even know it but I'm turned on. I'm so fucken turned on right now - not just as a photographer but as red blooded man, craving a woman. "You're crazy Zak," she jokes.

"That much I'll admit, I am fucken insane Ayanda. So don't do that, don't deny me your beauty, you won't win," I tease her. She laughs but then obliges to my request. She looks down nervously and I take another shot. When she looks up at me and licks and sticks her tongue out playfully - I freeze _._

_Shit._ What. The. Fuck.

Why did that have such an effect on me? Something's seriously changed between us. I slide the camera back into my pocket and walk to her in slow steps, my eyes never leaving hers. I am mesmerized by all that is - her. I'm now towering over her, just a hairsbreadth away when she turns her gaze from me and stares at the view. Then she looks at my chest in panic when I'm quiet for too long.

"It's so high up here," she whispers woozily but I'm a million miles away. All I can think about is how badly I want kiss those lips of hers, how badly I want to feel just how soft they are. I tilt her head up with a finger and revel in how beautiful she looks - with the wind blowing on her hair like crazy.

Her wild messy curls and dark eye make-up make for a heady sight. In fact, she's been driving me crazy all night. I can't take it anymore, I need this girl. I love and respect women but I've never professed to being, a gentleman in "all" occasions. I'm as selfish as they come when in need of sating. Everything inside me tells me not to kiss this girl because well - it's obvious that my brother is in-love with her and he's trusting me to look after her until she's safely home but my body seems to have other plans of its own. I want this woman and I know she wants me too. I just have to prove it to her. She licks at her lips out of nervous habit I guess, but that shit gets to me. She sighs awkwardly as if my silence is worrying her and I swear she's taunting me.

That's it - game over. Before I can stop myself, I'm leaning down towards her and crushing my lips to hers in a controlled rhythm. Slow at first and then all in when she moans into my mouth and fists her hands onto my shirt in a desperate hold to balance herself.

_Shit_. I was right - she does want me. It amazes me how her body suddenly comes alive under my touch. My hands are everywhere as she clings to me. God, her mouth is like sweet nectar and within seconds she opens for me.

My tongue invades her mouth with skilled strokes. She moans and starts kissing me back _._ Shit. This girl will be my undoing. I want her so badly I'm scared I'll erupt from the burn of it all, filling me up like warm slow liquid. My hands slide down to her waist and then even further down to her legs. I'm convinced that this is bound to send me to hell. She moans as I continue to steal both her breath and her will.

I lead my one hand down in between her thighs and let it linger there. I break the kiss just a little and she tugs me down again. "Zak, don't," she murmurs. "Don't stop," she murmurs against my cheek.

"Well, aren't you just a needy girl," I whisper. She's all putty in my arms, panting and breathing heavily when I carefully observe her, wanting her permission to invade her womanly folds. _Fuck it._ I do it anyway because she can't seem to get another word out as she pants impatiently. I slide my fingers up her dress and feel the lace material of her under wear.

_Damn, she's wet_.

This is the ultimate evidence that she wants me as badly as I want her. Feeling on her sends me over the edge and I'm kissing her again. I lead my kisses down to her neck and along the tip of her breasts.

She feels so damn good, I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop myself, not when she's responding like this. We go at it like lost fools until - the loud sound of the heavy rooftop door swings open and I'm pulled right back to reality with the force of a rollercoaster. This seems to bring back Ayanda's sense of morale too as she gasps in panic. She frees herself from my hold like I'm a hot plate that's just burnt her half to death and fiddles with her tiny dress.

"Zak, are you out here?" Clementine calls out, she stills when she sees us. From the look on her face I can tell that she knows exactly what Ayanda and I have been up to. Clementine is no fool after all. She frowns, folding her arms against her chest. I look at Ayanda as she continues to fiddle with her tiny dress, not daring to look up at me or Clementine. However, her soft small voice then saves the moment.

"I'm going to find Ashley," she says and with utmost grace that some angel must have adorned her with from God knows where given our behaviour just now, she walks pass Clementine and I as regally as a person can pretend to be.

She struggles to open the heavy steel door which is probably thrice her size but still, manages eventually to creep away. I can't help but feel proud. The girl is braver and stronger than she looks. She's handled the situation elegantly leaving me out here alone to deal with Clementine's accusing glare, and to top it off, I'm as hard as a bone right now too.

_Damn you Ayanda_. My brain is screaming again.

"You're seriously going to make an important business decision for The Muse based on your dick?" Clementine yells. I turn from her and stare out at the view, not wanting to be having this conversation what so ever. I'm just too tired to argue with Clementine but I know she won't let this slide. I know how dramatic she can get but I refuse to entertain her.

"She's not right for this campaign Zak," Clementine continues.

"Why?" I ask just out of curiosity not because, her reason will change my mind.

"Because clearly, you're involved with her now, there's a conflict of interest here Zak." I have to admit, she's got a point but still, I refuse to entertain her. I close the distance between us until I'm inches from her. "I'm the boss around here. Let's not forget that ok."

"You're not making a very wise decision right now boss, not when it comes to The Muse." She warns me and just like that, despite my cool calm composure, I fucken lose it.

"God, Clementine just get the fuck out of here ok and tell them to close up, downstairs already," I yell with such damnation that the poor girl takes a step back. "Fine, I was heading out anyway," she spits back and storms away.

Frustrated, I pull out a cigarette from my pocket and light it up. I bring the bud to my mouth and in slow puffs I take it in and I let it work its magic on me with each pull.

_What the hell have I done? I can't go there again with Ayanda_.

Clementine is right. If Ayanda accepts my offer then it will be a conflict of interest one way or another but that's not why I'm freaking out. Deep down inside, I know I can never have her - she'll never belong to me. She's Khaya's girl - maybe not officially but she's always belonged to him. That much I know. My brother's trusted me to look after this girl and I go and take advantage of her.

_I'm an asshole. I'm a selfish fucken asshole_. I stand for about a good ten minutes or so berating myself. But even in my state of guilt, I can't stop thinking about how good it felt to kiss Ayanda. She was into it, I know she was but this can never ever happen again.

After my smoke, I force myself to get back to her, contemplating how I'm going to explain myself to her about what we've done. I rush out of the door and take the stairs back to my office, bracing myself for the uncomfortable confrontation. Inside, I find Ayanda curled up on the couch. She's fast asleep and it's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.

Seeing her like this - resting and at peace with the world for this moment alone, all just makes this disastrous outing worth it. I glance at my watch reading 2: am and I wonder if I should wake her up. I wonder where her friend Ashley is and at this point, I don't even care. The pretty blonde is nowhere to be seen and honestly, I completely forgot about her. I stand by the window to see if I can spot her pretty little head but nope, I don't see her. My bouncers are kicking the few people left and are just about ready to lock up and leave.

I look at Ayanda's stiff figure again - she looks so peaceful. I don't have the heart to wake her simply because I'm not ready to talk about the kiss - not yet anyway. I'm not ready for her to realize what a bastard I am. I remove my blazer and drape it over her small curled up frame. I take a seat by my office chair and watch her sleep. And just like that, I find my little bit of peace.

Chapter 9

Aya

I stretch out and drape whatever it is that's covering me more tightly against my chest. _God_ , _it feels so good_. I grab hold of the silky material and bury myself in it. It smells of cologne. Expensive cologne that I immediately recognize, it smells of - Zak! _Shit._ I suddenly know where I am and I struggle to open my tired eyes. Surprisingly enough, I'm well rested. I had an amazing dream about Zak and the red of his aura. _Shit_. The reality of the situation hits me. I'm on the couch in Zak's office? _Damn_. How the hell did I fall asleep here? I remember sitting out here waiting for Zak and practically panicking about not being able to find Ashley and then zoning out into a deep slumber, I guess. _How did I fall asleep here?_ My brain is spiralling. I yawn in such a un-lady like manner as my eyes flutter open. I'm embarrassed as Zak's lazy brown gaze implores me.

"Good morning needy girl," he greets me, flashing me a mischievous smile that lets me know he's enjoying a secret joke. Wait, what? _Needy girl_ , _Am I a needy girl?_ I frown as I contemplate this. _Shit_. Maybe last night I was a bit needy. I search my memory trying desperately to remember all that I can about last night. _What happened and what I did?_

It all comes flooding back to me in a rush that causes my head to ache. My face unwillingly constructs itself in pain.

"Morning," I manage to say and raise a hand to my throbbing head. "How's the headache?" Zak teases me. _Dammit,_ _he's enjoying this_. Clearly what I got up to last night has made his morning. Everything is juggled up in my mind. Too many colours, I can't tell the difference between what actually happened, what I dreamt about and what I'm just imagining. I had a dream about Zak, of that I am certain. It was...red, many shades of it...hot, definitely hot, an embarrassingly - hot dream that involved kissing and sucking, licking and panting. _Geez, what the hell is wrong with me?_ My head throbs again, _damn_ , this is not my morning. It's a morning from hell.

"Everything hurts," I confess. Zak laughs but then I see a spark of concern on his "I didn't get any sleep but I'm still handsome" face. I can't stop thinking about that damn dream. _Shit. Was it a dream or did it actually happen?_ The only way to find out is to ask Zak about it and I'm not about to do that.

"That's what you get for drinking up the way you did, needy girl," he smirks. There it is again. _Needy girl,_ _what the hell does he mean by that?_

"Needy girl," I ask and my voice sounds uncomfortably whiny. His eyes intensify as if he's lost in thought and then he gets up and fiddles with the coffee machine. Why is he not answering me? Frustrated, I ask him what I'm dying to know, I don't care how embarrassing it is but I need to know that I'm not going crazy.

"Did you really kiss me or was it just a dream?" There - I said it. The words are out of my mouth and I can't take them back. "You dreamt about me?" he smirks. He sounds shocked but impressed at the same time. "Yes," I whisper and cover my face with my hand. I feel like such a fool.

_Geez, why did I tell him that?_ He still has his back turned from me as he makes the coffee but I'm certain I heard the satisfaction and amusement in his voice when he spoke before.

He glances at me over his shoulder and I can tell he's getting a kick at the fact that I dreamt about him. _Damn him_. I need him to tell me what I need to know. He turns to face me and then picks up the two hot mugs. He comes to take a seat next to me and hands me my coffee. I have a moment of dejavu. He did this for me last night. He made me coffee. I take a sip of the coffee and revel at the taste. My brain is slowly starting to function normally now and everything is coming into perspective beautifully like blurry rainbows.

"You made me coffee last night," I say, more to myself than to him. Zak regards me with amusement and tilts his head sideways before he speaks. "I guess you remember now hey?" he asks. I nod and he smiles but still his eyes question me.

"Everything?" he asks nervously.

"Everything," I murmur. He relaxes and then sips on his coffee, sinking a bit lower on the couch.

"I'm sorry I took advantage of you," he says. I don't know why this makes me frown. I know he's referring to the kiss and dammit, I don't want him to apologize. I don't want him to treat me like some fragile little girl. I want him to treat me the way he did last night. Last night, for the duration of that kiss, he treated me like a woman. I drink down the rest of my coffee and then turn to him again.

"You didn't take advantage of me. I was well aware of what we were doing and for the record, I really enjoyed it," I say surprising myself at how easily I admitted that. I never knew I had the ability to surprise this man but it seems I just did. He gets up from his seat uncomfortably and grabs his car keys. _Shit_. I think he's...nervous? It's kind of cute actually.

"I should really get you home," he says and I don't argue. Now that, I've had some coffee ironically I'm feeling the exhaustion of all that dancing I did and shit _,_ Zak must be exhausted too. I grab his blazer jacket and hold it out to him. He shakes his head but takes it and drapes it over my shoulders.

"Keep it, there's a chill outside," he says. Then he takes my hand and leads me away.

The drive back home is quick but quiet. Zak is a fast driver, you know, something out of need for speed but I'm not complaining. He gets me safely home, _thank God_ and pulls up outside Ashley's apartment in a record of twenty minutes. I remove my seat belt and get ready to step out. Zak opens his door and I stop him.

"You don't need to come up. You must be exhausted, I'll be ok now. Thank you so much for everything," I say. He gives me a lazy grin but still steps out of the car despite my protest.

"I have to walk you to your door Ayanda, that's just how I was raised."

For about a split second, I see something in his eyes before it's gone - a sadness that is luminous in his eyes, all around him and it grips me. He must be thinking about his mother or his childhood or something. Shit. I wish I could ask him about it but I don't, I force myself to get all the red shades of this man out of my mind. I think of Khaya and it all comes back to me - the awkward one sided kiss that he attempted between us and the tantrum that he and my brother caused at the club.

"Any day now," Zak jokes and I smack him playfully on the arm with my purse. He laughs and I follow him up the stairs to the apartment. It's always really intense vibes between us or really easy light vibes and today it's the latter. He watches me as I fiddle with the keys trying to unlock the door, I struggle some more and then it budges. I stall awkwardly by the door and I can feel Zak is right behind me now so when I turn, I stare up straight into his deep dark eyes. For a moment he says nothing, he just looks into me in that way that makes my world come to a halt.

"I'm never going clubbing with you ever again," he says quietly and we both laugh, mine is a sad "I'm so embarrassed" kind of laugh though which ends in an uncomfortable cough. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and then grow very serious.

"I'm never doing that ever again," I confess. Zak smiles this time and nods in agreement. As his smile slowly fades, I see something in his eyes that makes my breath come up short. I see worry and concern, I hate it when people treat me like a child or some crazy girl who can't look after herself but right now, his concern is comforting. A beautiful thing actually - my heart swoons.

"Don't ever do that again, don't ever get drunk and grind up on random guys," he scolds. He's so serious, it's unsettling and I can see the intensity of his words in his eyes. I nod woozily and he strokes my cheek. He chuckles, a low soft laugh that's barely audible. He leans down and I think he's going to kiss me but he doesn't - instead, he rests his head against my forehead and closes his eyes. An explosion of colour goes off in my head. The gesture moves me and so I follow his lead, I l close my eyes and take him in, the scent of him and the soft contact of his touch. We stand like that for a few heavenly minutes - dancing in many shades of emerald green for me and crimson fire for him, before he pulls away.

"Needy girl, I have to go now ok," he whispers and then he turns to leave.

I'm left here standing alone, empty like a blank canvas in front of my door feeling lonely? Now that he's gone - I just feel so empty and lonely inside. It's all just so weird. I hear the sound of his footsteps as I close the door and walk lazily into the apartment. I slump myself on the couch without a care. _Damn_. I'm beat.

I take out my blackberry from my purse and check the damn thing. I have five missed calls from Khaya, two from Jabu but none from Ashley, not even a text. I can't help the sick dread in my belly right now. I try calling Ashley but it just goes straight to voice mail.

_Where the hell are you, Ash?_ I'm too pissed off at Khaya to call him and ask him if he knows anything about Ashley's whereabouts. He probably doesn't even know anything because he left me last night. He actually had the nerve to leave me and Ash all by ourselves in a club - him and my brother both left us. I'm fuming now and I desperately wish I had Zak's number so I could call him and ask if he knows anything about Ashley.

I can't believe I didn't ask him earlier. That should've been the first thing on my mind _. Shit_. I give up and dial Khaya. It rings twice and then he answers.

"Aya, thank God. I've been so worried about you." I frown at this. I have no business being angry at Khaya right now not after what I did last night and I'm way too worried about Ash to even give in to my anger. I just can't believe that Khaya of all people...my precious Khaya - left me drunk and alone in a club.

"I'm fine Khaya," I assure him as calmly as I can.

"You don't sound fine Aya. Do you want me to come over?"

"No," I reply sharply. I'm being such a bitch right now but Khaya coming over is the last thing I need. I'm tired and quite frankly, I'm a little embarrassed by my behaviour. I kind of feel guilty for rejecting Khaya and then going right ahead and practically throwing myself at his brother.

"I'm sorry Khaya," I murmur. The tears find a path down my cheeks when I hear him sigh. I break down. I start crying and I don't even try to suppress the sobs. "That's it, I'm coming over," Khaya says and I know better than to try and stop him. I don't want to stop him - I miss him and I need a friend right now especially with Ashley being MIA.

I love Khaya. I really do. He's my white light, that pure familiar place of calmness. He's the only one who would get out of bed at 6: am on an autumn morning and drive all the way from Soweto to Parktown just to come and check on me. I wipe my tears and snort loudly. "I'll see you just now ok," he tells me and hangs up the phone.

I'm a mess. I wreak of alcohol, coffee and a bit of...Zak. I notice that I still have his blazer draped around me. I sink on the couch and hug myself with the blazer. I bury myself in the feel of it and inhale. _Shit._ It smells divine just like the man himself. I try to decipher the smell of the obviously expensive cologne and conclude that it's more like a contrast between cherries and charcoal with a bit of coconut oil.

Like a foolish girl, I replay the kiss we shared over and over again as I close my eyes in the blissful red of it all. I've never been kissed like that. He kissed me like a man hungry for a woman. Red - Passion, the fact that I enjoyed it so much feels like betrayal. Khaya is not my boyfriend but I feel so guilty and this makes me cry some more. Frustrated, I wipe my tear-streaked face and rush to the bathroom.

I get in the shower and try not to think about Zak, his soft unruly kisses and his skilled touch. After five minutes I get out of the shower and dress in comfortable cotton leggings and an over-sized Wits university sweater. I brush out my curls and tie my hair up into a bun. I head out into the living room and try calling Ashley again for the third time now but still, she doesn't answer.

There's a knock on the door and Khaya lets himself in. He immediately out stretches his arms. I run to him and bury myself in his welcoming hold. _This is home_. He kisses my temple as I look up at him with puffy eyes.

"Have you heard anything from Ashley?" I whisper. Khaya looks surprised.

"I thought Zak dropped you both off here last night." he says in shock. _Shit. What do I say?_

I guess he trusted Zak with this last night and well that's not exactly how it all went down. I'm compelled to protect Zak but I don't know how to do that without revealing what actually happened. Frowning, I contemplate this and find a loop hole.

"Zak dropped me off here last night, alone. We couldn't find Ashley." _Shit_. I'm lying. To Khaya now, I never do that. I'm lying to Khaya of all the people in the world.

"And you're only telling me this now?" Releasing me, he reaches for his phone and dials a number. "Zak, do you know anything about Ashley's whereabouts?" he practically barks at the phone. Geez, he needs to calm the hell down. We both know Ashley has a mind of her own, she does what she wants and we can't exactly blame Zak for this. I was a handful last night for Zak, "needy" to be exact and he took very good care of me.

_He took care of me_. I'm smiling now like a love sick puppy or more like an idiot.

_Stupid - stupid girl_.

Khaya raises a brow at me as he continues to listen in on the other end at what Zak is saying. Damn, I hope Zak's story won't contradict my stupid lie.

"Ok, please man let me know as soon as you hear anything else - cool, bye and thanks again for last night. Thanks for taking care of my girl." Khaya says and drops the phone. Well that seems to have gone well. I look at Khaya and wait for him to say something.

"Zak said Ashley left the club with some guy that she was hanging out with. He says the guy seemed harmless and that you were really drunk so he had to make sure you were ok," Khaya says and he smiles the whole time with pride and gratitude for his brother. Guilt washes over me again but I force myself to not dwell on it. It is what it is. What happened between Zak and I happened and there's nothing I can do to change it.

The least I can do is make sure it never happens again. I force a smile at Khaya and hook my arm in his. I lead him to the couch where I convince him to watch re-runs of Game of thrones with me.

We get half way through the third episode when we hear footsteps from outside that sound a lot like Ashley's clinking heels. I jump from the couch and rush to the door. The door swings open and Ashley smiles at me.

"Hey Aya, wow I had the best night of my life. Joshua's such a sweetheart, he made me breakfast, can you believe it. The guy can actually cook. He's house is like a palace. Gosh, the guy is loaded. You have to see the car he dropped me off in -" she goes on and on until I can't take it anymore, I have to interrupt her.

"Ashley!" I yell in frustration. She stops. Her baby blue eyes wide on her face now as she regards me. Khaya gets up from the couch and I can tell he's also kind of annoyed by how conceited Ashley can get. "We've been worried sick about you Ash," Khaya says.

"The least you could have done was call us back or text or something," I yell. Ashley steps inside and shuts the door behind her. She unties her hair and runs her fingers through it roughly. She's seems to be contemplating her behaviour.

"I'm sorry ok, I just got carried away. Josh was being so attentive after Jabu hit me. I needed to get away," she says in a hoarse voice. Geez, I almost forgot about that whole incident with Jabu. I feel bad for Ashley but I also feel the need to defend my brother.

"He was drunk Ash. You know what liquor does to him."

I drape my arms around her and comfort her despite how pissed off I still am at her. Khaya joins us in a group hug and flicks a strap of Ashley's blonde waves. She laughs and all is forgiven. What can I say, I love this girl and we both pretty much behaved carelessly last night. I have no right to fault her when I'm just as guilty. Ashley goes off into the bathroom to freshen up while Khaya and I watch one more episode of Game of thrones before he gets up and prepares to leave.

"Are you sure you're ok Ayanda?" he sighs. I kiss him on the cheek. "Don't worry about it ok. I'm fine." He's not convinced though.

"Did you do what you did because of me? Did you get sloshed because I tried to kiss you yesterday?" he asks. I shake my head at this because it's \- Absolutely not true.

"Ayanda, I know you're not ready but I'll wait for you for as long as it takes. I love you, I really do. I am only a man Ayanda and sometimes...well many times, I just really want you. Only you Ayanda," he adds and I can't even look at him anymore. I feel like a worn out paint brush \- horrible. Despite his sickness – his condition, Khaya is like the perfect guy, there's nothing not to love about this man. My white light, I do love him. I love him a lot so I don't even try to deny it. I tell him the truth.

"And I love you," I breathe. He smiles sadly, walking backwards - he heads for the door, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. I tug him back towards me, draping my arms around his neck, leaning up, I kiss him. It's an innocent kiss, soft and quick like a simple drawing, no tongues involved but it seems to be enough for him because he smiles.

There - I feel better now. Being with Khaya is the right thing to do. I've known this man my whole life and well, it's been a long time coming between us. I don't have the heart to keep him waiting anymore so why am I doing it?

_Maybe I should just give us a try_.

A journey towards the white light – maybe - Here goes nothing.

"We can try. We can give us a try Khaya," I stutter in a low whisper full of uncertainty. Khaya looks at me with love in his eyes. It's all so overwhelming. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time and I know he has too.

I should be thrilled. I should be over the moon but instead I feel like shit. There's something missing. I don't ponder at it long enough because Ashley comes striding in. She's adorned herself in a long thick gown and has her wet hair tied up dramatically above her head. "Leaving already?" she asks. I turn to her. She's by the kitchen counter making a cup of tea and toast.

"I'd love to stay longer but I can't. I'm hanging out with Zak later on today. I think I'm ready to talk to him, man to man, you know," Khaya says. I look at him nervously and try my best not to look so disturbed. I fight back the tears that threaten to fall down my face.

_Say something Ayanda_. My brain is screaming at me. "That's great Khaya. I really want you and Zak to make things right," I say hoarsely. I'm such an emotional wreck today. But, I really do mean what I just said. I love Khaya and I want him to be happy, I also clearly feel some type of way about Zak. I don't know what it is that I feel for Zak but it's powerful and very foreign to me. For my own sanity and peace, feeling something for Zak is something that I should never entertain. I might just burn up in smoke if I do.

Ashley gives me a suspicious look and then turns her attention to Khaya. "I want you guys to mend things Khaya I really do but, I don't know. I just don't trust this Zak guy and you know I'm always right about these things," she says to him.

Her words make me frown for some odd reason. Ashley comes over to us and kisses Khaya on the cheek, giving me a damning look in the process.

"He was there for me last night Ash and he even looked after my beautiful Ayanda for me, now she's all mine," Khaya says. "You're all mine, Aya."

His words make me uncomfortable, I feel claimed by him and I don't like it. _Now she's all mine_? Geez, what is it with men. I frown again. Ashley watches me with questioning eyes and I know I'm going to get it as soon as Khaya leaves our sight.

"Ayanda has agreed to be my girlfriend," Khaya continues cheerfully. Ashley coughs and spills some of her tea. "Ouch," she squeals. I'm just as shocked as she is. _Shit, girlfriend?_ I'm pretty sure those were not my exact words.

"Khaya, we should take things slow ok," I tell him and I can't hide the irritation in my voice. I'm kind of annoyed and a part of me just wants Khaya to leave already.

"Of course my love," he says and then he kisses me again. His lips meet mine in a hard desperate kiss that lasts for what feels like an eternity before I turn my face away from the contact. Khaya keeps me in a powerful lock though, squeezing me to him with all his might, crushing me to his chest. His powerful lock is suffocating, his strong fingers biting into the skin on my arms – it hurts but I don't say anything. He looks dazed and I feel a sick dread in my belly. I meet Ashley's furious gaze and she shakes her head at me, Khaya doesn't see this though, he's too lost in the moment to realize what's going on. I walk him to the door, massaging the burning skin on my arms protectively and lead him out.

"I'll call you," he says before he leaves. I close the door behind him with a bang and turn to face Ashley. She's giving me the evil eye and I know she's about to burst.

"How could you stand there and do that to Khaya?" she yells. I pretend I have no idea what she means. I want to avoid this conversation at all costs and my body hurts – my skin and now my exhausted heart.

"Ashley, I feel terrible. My head hurts and I'm just not in the mood," I explain and for once it's actually the truth. I'm in pain, physically and emotionally.

"Why are you suddenly agreeing to be Khaya's girl, why now? I know you Aya, something's up and you know what I'm talking about." The sound of Ashley's voice only makes my head throb even more.

"I didn't agree to be his girlfriend. I just said that maybe, we can give us a try, look, I guess he got the wrong idea."

"Why now? I just don't get it," she yells and her voice sounds overly loud in my pounding head. "Do you feel guilty about being attracted to Zak?"

I throw my hands up in surrender and flinch. "I'm not attracted to Zak."

"Yes you are. He's kind of hot and he's clearly into you. You should see the way he looks at you." I'm saved by a knock on the door.

Who the hell could that be now?

As usual Ashley beats me to the door. I come up to stand behind her when she opens it. We're greeted by a handsome young guy with dark hair and green eyes.

"Delivery for Ayanda Miya," he says. "Are you the package?" Ashley asks, batting her long lashes at him but he seems to be immune to her charms. Well that's a first. His face is stern as he takes out an envelope and a box from his bag. I step in front of Ashley and reach out my hand.

"I'm Ayanda."

"Sign here please." Mr Green eyes hands me a board and a pen. I take it and sign. He gives me an envelope and Ashley takes the box from him angrily. He doesn't even smile or look back at us as he walks away.

"Maybe he's gay," Ashley says as she shakes the box. "A personal delivery for my girl Ayanda Miya, hmm I wonder," Ashley squeals. She's giving me the eye again but this time I'm just as surprised as she is. I have no idea what this is. I open the fancy envelope nervously under Ashley's scrutinizing gaze. I slip my fingers inside and take out a card with a hand written note. _Shit_. I was not expecting this. This is too much, a kaleidoscope of fulfilment that has my heart dancing as I read the note.

You're a natural Ayanda. Please say yes. Be my muse, needy girl.

P.S, open the box and see how beautiful you are. Call me 083 5216055

Zak

I smile as it all comes back to me. _He wants me to be his muse_. I'd forgotten all about that. I hold the card to my chest and let out a breath I never knew I was holding. This is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me or written, I correct myself. Ashley's looking at me with questioning eyes but I ignore her.

"Do I even want to know who that's from?" she asks me. I shake my head and grab the box from her. Ignoring her, I make my way to my room and I'm surprised that Ashley doesn't even follow me. I'm grateful though. I think she finally gets the picture. I want to be alone and dwell in this trance for a little while. I lie down on my back on the bed and rest the note and the box on my chest. I'm playing a dangerous game \- That much, I know. What I don't know is what I'm going to do about it. I turn onto my stomach and slowly find the courage to open the velvet box. I gasp at what I see.

My own intense brown eyes, staring back at me from one of the Polaroids Zak took of me last night, lulling me back to the moment when I felt like a beautiful rainbow. I find a total of four photos. One that strikes me the most is edited in a shade of black and white and there's a caption on it that reads "Girl on the moon" _Damn_. My heart erupts in virile energy, red and orange like a volcano. Who knew self-proclaimed rebel Zak Nkosi could do something so sweet and charming. My heart wants to burst.

He's captured me in a way that I've never seen myself. Like a moon surrounded by star dust and fire gems. I've never seen myself this way. In my head, I've never viewed myself as this girl, this beautiful girl with so, so much colour in her soul, this beautiful girl who glows like a full moon. Seeing these photos, I almost don't recognize - me. There it is again, the uncontrollable urge to cry. I feel the wet salty streak of my tears down my cheek. This time, it's the good kind of cry, the kind that liberates and can only be described as evidence of pure joy. As if hearing my sobs, Ashley knocks lightly on my door before she enters. Seeing her, I start crying even more.

Why am I so fucken weak?

"Hey dear, it's ok. Don't cry, I'm here, talk to me ok." Ashley comes and curls herself next to me, draping an arm around me. I get up a little and sit on my knees. I show her the note and then the photos. She studies them for a while, saying nothing as I continue to cry foolishly. Her silence is killing me so I swallow my pride and actually confess.

The words just pour out of me. I tell her about The Muse, the soul shattering rooftop kiss and of course, the photos. "Are you going to call him?" she asks me. "I don't know Ashley. I don't know what to do." I'm a mess but I feel better now that I've told Ashley about my little predicament. I'm glad she listened and that she's not judging me.

"Whatever you do, just know that I'm here for you," she tells me before she gets up to leave. She waits by my door for a little while and smiles.

"I can see why they want you, you're beautiful Ayanda. Khaya knows this and so does Zak because he's captured you Ayanda, really captured you, I'm afraid. You're the only one who doesn't know how beautiful you are."

I know that it took a lot for her to admit that because I know she can't stand Zak and I also know how conceited she is. She can never compliment another woman without a hidden agenda. I've always envied the yellow of her sunshine but now, I'm finding my own light – an emerald moon. I smile at her between my sobs before she leaves.

I'm left on my own now to contemplate my next move. I sit up properly on the bed and pick up my blackberry. I wipe my damp cheeks and brace myself for what I'm about to do.

_Be brave Ayanda, be brave_. I remind myself. The only relationship I will allow myself to have with Zak will be a professional one and nothing else. If he wants me to work for him then that's what I will do. I need the money anyway. I'm tired of living off of Ashley. I'm tired of being a burden to people. I'm tired of being a fucken "needy girl" like Zak would say. I laugh now, I don't know why but I just do. I amuse myself like that sometimes.

I pick up the note and dial Zak's number. It rings a couple of times and then goes to voice mail. This makes me very angry and I hang up the phone. I've just had my one and only moment of being brave and he decides not to answer the damn phone. _Fuck_. I'm fuming now like a hot plate. A few minutes later, the sound of my blackberry buzzing startles me. I quickly pick it up and bark at the phone. "Hello," I say angrily.

"Hi." A low deep familiar voice that brings rainbows to my belly replies. _Shit_. It's Zak. "Hey," I say more calmly this time and then I roll on the bed in embarrassment.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ I mean who does that? Who says "Hello," and then "Hey?"

There's a long pause before Zak clears his throat and purses over the phone again,

"Hi Ayanda," he laughs now that low laugh of his that makes me feel all kinds of weird inside. I cough and force myself to act normal. I mean, how awkward can a phone call get right?

"I got your note and the photos, they're lovely."

"I know," he breathes and pauses again. "I told you, you're beautiful Ayanda. So, what's it going to be?" he asks. _Damn_. Straight to the point, I see. I thought I'd made up my mind but now I find myself questioning my decision again. My lips feel strangely dry and I swallow hard. I mean seriously, even over the phone, this guy has an effect on me. He makes me feel weak like the tip of a paint brush and smudgy inside like acrylic.

I don't want to need this man. I don't want him to have an effect on me but he does. He's inside me like synthetic fibres and I don't even know when I invited him in.

"I'm not sure, if working together is such a good idea, given what happened last night," I tell him and once again that's the honest truth from me. This guy makes me always feel like confessing all the truth that there is in me. I feel like I can tell him anything.

"A lot of things happened last night Ayanda. What exactly are you referring to?" he teases because I can hear the humour in his voice. _Fuck._ Why is he torturing me?

"Tell me," he adds when I'm quiet for too long and I flinch.

"You know what happened," I say sharply, letting him know that I don't want to play games with him right now, not over the phone. He laughs and it only irritates me some more.

"Look, I won't kiss you again Ayanda, if you don't want me to."

"I don't want you to kiss me again," I whine. He's quiet for a while and then he responds calmly. "That's ok Ayanda. Like I said, I won't kiss you if you don't want me to."

"And what – what if I do want you to kiss me?" I stutter without even thinking about it and I'm not even embarrassed. I'm just curious. "Then, that's ok too," he says and the medley in my heart sets off again. I'm quiet for a long while listening to the bells of my heart. I can hear his soft breathing. I close my eyes and revel in the silence between us. He breaks the spell though, he inhales sharply.

"What do you want Ayanda?" There's no annoyance in his voice, no ego or manipulation either. His voice sounds genuine, so again - I tell him the truth.

"I want that feeling again, the rainbows. I want that feeling again. I want to see you so you can take photos of me and maybe...kiss me again," I admit. _Damn_. That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It felt good actually. It feels like a shift in power. I am in control now. I desperately want him to kiss me again.

"Tomorrow, come to my complex tomorrow. I have a studio and we can do a screen test, take some photos and do whatever else you want to do." I nod foolishly as if he can see me.

"Ok." I whisper awkwardly.

"I'll fetch you at around 12?"

"No, it's ok, uhm. Text me the address, I'll come," I breathe, trying to calm the butterflies in my belly. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do this my way ok." I quickly add. I'm doing this so that, if somehow by tomorrow, I'm not feeling so brave anymore. I can always chicken out and just not show up - unlike, if he fetches me then I have no way of getting out of it.

"Ok, needy girl, not so needy anymore now are you?" and just like that, he cuts the call. _Shit_. What the hell have I just done? The reality of it all sweeps over me, I'm freaking out but selfishly, I'm also really excited. I'm proud of myself. I've just agreed to do something that I know deep down inside I really want to do and I won't allow myself to feel guilty about it anymore. I want the rainbows again.

_Until it blows up in your face_ , my conscious tells me but I ignore it. My blackberry vibrates again and this time it's a text from Zak. Keeping to his word, he's sent me the address. He stays in Rosebank; it's not far from here but still.

_How am I going to get there?_ I didn't think of this part when I made my stupid act of independence. I don't have a car and I feel uncomfortable about asking Ashley to drop me off because I know she won't approve. I don't want to tell her that I've accepted this job in fact I've already told her too much and put her in a very awkward situation as it is. I can't ask Khaya, for obvious reasons and I can't ask Jabu - I'm not ready to talk to him yet.

I sure as hell am not going to ask Zak - that would just be pathetic and embarrassing. I've already embarrassed myself enough around the guy. I'll just have to take a taxi. If I even have any money on me. I'm so broke. I've almost used up the last of the remaining tuition money my poor parents sent me. _I'm such a horrible daughter_. I sink on to my bed and bury my head in the pillow. I force myself to sleep and hopefully not have any inappropriate dreams. Sleep is unavoidable right about now because, I'm so sleepy and my eyes are swollen and sore from all the crying I've been victim to lately.

Chapter 10

Zak

I've been in my editing studio all morning playing with these beautiful Polaroids under the red light. I've connected my memory card to a large monitor so I can make use of my online photo apps. There's so much I can do with these four magical shots of Ayanda.

The photographer in me could look at her face all day, drawing artistic inspiration from her perfect profile _. Damn_. I can't believe she agreed to work for me - ok, she didn't exactly say it directly but I know she's game. That was a weird ass phone call between us earlier and in my own opinion - Ayanda is officially the strangest creature I've ever met. I'm looking forward to seeing her tomorrow though - professionally of course. I can't get involved with her regardless of the chemistry between us - there's no denying that there's this intense chemistry between us, even over the phone. I've never believed that, that kind of thing was even possible. I'm a visual man. I have to first see the goods of a woman physically displayed out in the open or through perfectly fitted clothes in order for me to be attracted or turned on but with Ayanda it's different.

I knew it from the moment, I laid eyes on her. She has nothing but the beauty of her face going for her and she doesn't even make an effort with fancy clothes and make up but somehow – she stirs my fire. The girl does things to me that no other female has ever been able to do. I don't even know why though. _She's not my type_. Maybe I thought I had a type but I actually don't. Maybe – maybe I'm just losing it.

"Khaya's here," Clementine yells from the passage. I'd forgotten that little bro said he'd be stopping by today. _Fuck_. I need to get my mind off all things Ayanda ASAP.

"I'll be right there?"

"What are you up to anyway?" Clementine says and with no warning at all she comes strolling into my editing room. She doesn't even give me a chance to turn off my monitors and pack up the Polaroids. She makes a study of what's going on and shakes her head. I watch the different expressions play on her face under the red low light as she makes an observation of the scene.

"What is it with you and this girl? She's not even all that Zak." She picks up one of the photos on my desk. I don't say anything. I simply wait for her to make up her own mind about the shots. She then puts the photos aside and takes a closer look at the images on the screen that I've been playing around with. I've added dramatic effects to some of them using LR editing, a bit of auto contrasting and holga effects to two of the images on display right now.

"She's got that model type thing going on, I'll give her that but I thought we were not going in that direction for the campaign? What happened to the whole real women with curves thing?" she says finally. I'm not surprised by her statement, I'm prepared for it.

"It's about the face Clemmy. Yes, she's got that model type bod going on but I'm more interested in her splash of innocence." Clementine looks at me like I've lost my mind. She'll never understand. She's not a photographer so I don't even try to explain myself further to her.

"Fine, she's beautiful but you know what. I don't trust her, she's unreliable Zak. I heard she dropped out of varsity, she barely visits her family and she's lazy as fuck. She doesn't even have a job. In fact, she's never worked a day in her life," Clementine explains. _Damn_. That was a mouthful but unfortunately, it does little to change my mind.

"Tell me something I don't know Clementine but that doesn't change the fact that she's a beautiful woman and I want her for this brand." Clementine is a straight forward kind of girl. She doesn't even try to hide her shock. Exasperated, she's throws her hands up. She purses her lips and starts talking again. "This is going to..."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore Clementine. I want you to prepare a screen test for Ayanda, she's coming tomorrow and I want everything to be perfect. Ok?" She nods and turns to leave. I follow her out to the passage then downstairs to the living room where Khaya is seated, focused on a game he's playing on a freaken...Gameboy.

Shit. Who the hell still owns one of those? To my surprise, I spot Thembi fiddling with the remote as I enter. I wasn't expecting her, I was under the impression that Khaya and I were finally going to have that dreaded brother to brother conversation but with Thembi here, I'm not so keen. I don't want lil sis involved in this bullshit about dad and why I left. I love my sister and I actually give a damn about - what her impression of me is.

"Hey, big bro, this place is incredible. Can I move in with you?" she gushes. I can never get over how loud my little sister is. She crosses to me and as usual I brace myself for her invasion. She throws herself at me, my arms close around her and I spin us around in a twirl. She giggles as I set her down on her feet again.

"Once you done with school and you pass with at least seven distinctions then, sure, you can move in with me," I joke, knowing very well that mama would never allow that prospect of her moving in with me to happen.

"Hey, we only have six courses silly, so how the hell am I supposed to get seven distinctions?"

"He wouldn't know that," Khaya says jokingly and almost regrets it so he flinches awkwardly in his seat. "Sorry, I didn't think. I was only joking," he quickly adds as he looks at me apologetically. I give him an impassive look. It's no secret that I dropped out of high school and _Fuck._ I don't regret it. There was nothing for me there. I knew what I wanted and how to get it, school was never an option and after dad died, I was just not in the space to deal with books.

"Education is the key to success Thembi, unless you're me. Which you're obviously not, so stay in school," I say, fixing Thembi a strong gaze. She's looking at me with wonder in her eyes. She smiles eventually and shakes her head.

"How did you do it? How did you get all of this?" She waves her hands around in wonder at our surroundings. I look at her and tell her the only truth that I know.

Aristotle.

"What we learn to do we learn by doing." At my words, Khaya, Clementine and Thembi stare at me with curious eyes as if they want me to elaborate, but I have nothing else to say. As cliché as my formula sounds, that's the truth. For me, there's just no other way.

"Aristotle said it best for me. I learnt about him in school and that was enough for me. Once I got what I needed, I didn't see a reason to continue learning about things that would never help me in the long run. When I left school, I went on to acquire the act of doing instead of learning," I explain. As if annoyed, Khaya gets back to concentrating on that stupid game he's playing, Clementine rolls her eyes at me and Thembi makes a tour of the complex. She finds the kitchen apparently because she starts rambling about food from afar.

"I'm going to cook for you guys, A little Sunday lunch. This kitchen is Godly," she yells. I make my way to the kitchen and Clementine follows me. We enter and find Thembi scowling as she closes the fridge.

"You guys have nothing I can work with," she complains.

"We don't cook much," Clementine says coldly. Damn, she's still mad at me.

"More, like. You don't know how to cook, so we don't buy groceries," I joke in an attempt to smooth out Clementine's feathers. She doesn't find my joke amusing. Curling her hand in a fist, she jabs me on the shoulder and I pretend to be in pain.

"As if you know how to cook," Clementine yells. I laugh.

"What's the point of having so much money if you won't make the most of it? Why don't you hire a chef or something?" Thembi suggests.

"I'll keep that in mind little sister," I tell her when deep down inside, I know that I've never been a fan of the whole being served thing. I'd rather have a messy house then hire some old black woman to clean after me. Mama used to be a maid for some astute white family, so the thought of the whole personal maid, helper, chef of gardener and shit infuriates me. I turn to Clementine and decide to humour her.

"I'm a guy Clemmy. I'm not expected to know how to cook." Clementine sticks her tongue out at me and then smiles. "That's more like it Clemmy," I add and her smile widens.

"Why don't you take Thembi out to do some grocery shopping? I'm starving and I'd really like a home cooked meal," I suggest to Clementine. Thembi jumps up and down like a clown and I can't help but smirk at her. My sister is so care free and it's rubbing off on me. I'm in a good mood today, everything is going my way. Firstly, I spent an exhausting early morning watching a sleeping beauty called Ayanda and then that very same sleeping beauty agrees to be my muse through a weird ass phone call and now I'm spending the rest of my afternoon in the presence of my brother and sister. I'm making progress on something that I deemed almost impossible. While Thembi and Clementine are out shopping for groceries, I use this opportunity to have an honest conversation with Khaya.

"So how are things at home?" I ask him. We're seated on the couch playing FIFA on my wide LED monitor. I figured he loves gaming but I couldn't stand looking at him playing on that ancient Gameboy of his even though he argued that he likes his Gameboy just fine.

"Things are getting better. Mama is gone to a church meeting and then later on today, she has an overnight prayer session to attend," Khaya replies. I'm beating him at FIFA, the score is 3-2 and I can see my brother doesn't take losing very well. His brows are furrowed and he's concentrating on the screen with pure determination. _Maybe, I should just let him beat me_. I consider this for a split second and lose my focus.

"Yes!" he screams. He jumps up from his seat as he scores. _Damn_. He's such a gamer.

"We're even now," he yells, sticking his tongue out at me. He's got an unending well of energy now, barely sitting still. "I'm winning now," he reminds me, the excitement in this voice sounding child-like and radiating in his wide unblinking eyes as he stares at the screen. I watch him in amusement. He's in a good mood today, like he's high off life. I see my way in and take it.

"How are things for you, How's honours coming along, are you coping?"

"It's tough. Hard work but I'm doing ok so far, preparing for exams you know." He jumps out of his seat again when he scores for the second time in a row.

"Ha ha, that's what I'm talking about," he adds when the time expires and the game comes to an end. Khaya can't hide the smirk on his face at the fact that he just beat me. I'm kind of glad that the game has ended because now we can talk properly. I jump straight to the big elephant in the room, even though he seems a bit too jittery for a serious conversation.

"When do you think would be suitable for me to go see mama again?" Khaya is quiet for a while as he contemplates this, his fingers twitching on his lap. It's like he just can't sit still for too long.

"Honestly speaking, I don't know," he says and his voice sounds overly loud. I brush at my stubble lightly in frustration and a bit of confusion. He's got this child-like virile energy and presence about him today that surprises me. I thought he was one of those serious types – I guess I really just don't know my brother well enough yet.

"I don't know what to do to make this right," I confess.

"Just keep doing what you're doing. Being here...because that's all that matters Zak, the fact that you're not a million miles away somewhere, in some country where we don't know is a start. Don't worry about mama, she'll come around. I'm just so happy." His words are like a balm to my broken heart but I still can't shake the discomfort.

"I'm just so happy," he breathes and I smile. "I'm just so happy that you're back, Zak," he says again.

"Thank you."

Khaya smiles, his fingers still twitching on his lap like an electric charge is flowing through his entire body, "No, Thank you Zak, for coming back home and for last night. I really appreciate you being there for Aya."

"Last night was...not quite how I hoped it would be. It was supposed to be a celebration for you," I confess.

"I know but you tried and for that I'm grateful," he says. I stare at him, feeling guilty for a second. _Fuck._ Why did he have to go and mention Ayanda? I had managed to keep her out of my thoughts for a good few hours now. We were finally having a proper brother to brother conversation and he had to go and mention that damn girl. I don't say anything for a good while. I simply nod and make a study of my brother. There's so much that I don't know about him. So – this is what he's like when he's happy. He's like a ball of energy and it's like it came out of nowhere – fast and virile. And then, just as fast, the spark in his eyes dies, his whole demeanor flunks, his fingers stop twitching and he regards me.

"She didn't want me to be there for her last night Zak but I guess it all makes sense now, you know, women though," Khaya continues. He has this look in his eyes, full of dark romance, like he's far away in some world where everything is perfect. Feeling very uncomfortable, I shift in my seat and look at the muted game on my screen, unblinking.

Coming to life again, he tugs my arm with enough force that I turn and face him again. "It all makes sense now Zak," he says, eyes sparkling again.

_It all makes sense now_. What the hell does he mean by that?

"It does?" I ask, trying to sound interested but still kind of confused.

"I was really worried about Ayanda last night Zak. She never drinks like that. I'm still worried even though she's finally decided to give us a try, after all these years. Ayanda's finally ready to be with me. She's mine Zak, she's actually mine," Khaya says. He looks dazed now and my world halts - just a little.

I really don't want to be having this conversation with him but it seems like my brother wants to confide in me about this damn Ayanda girl and it's the last thing I need.

"Really," I say because that's the only thing I can manage. Like a blessing from God, Clementine and Thembi arrive just in time with bags and bags of groceries. I get up without waiting for Khaya to finish whatever it is he's trying to tell me and grab some of the bags from Thembi. I walk them to the kitchen, Khaya following in jumpy strides.

"I'm going to make us some carrot rice and fried chicken, how does that sound?" Thembi suggests.

"Great," I say in a not so enthusiastic way even though I'm starving and grateful for the prospect of a not eating take out. I'm distracted and my good mood has dissipated - for obvious reasons.

_What exactly was Khaya trying to tell me and why was he acting so weird?_ I'm so frustrated that I zone out until Khaya's cheerful voice fills the kitchen.

"I was just telling Zak that, Aya's finally agreed to be my girlfriend." He's wearing a smirk on his face that I find rather annoying. What the hell is wrong with me, why does this news make me feel like - I've just been stabbed with a razor sharp knife? I'm losing it, I barely hear Thembi's squeal of delight as she chops vegetables.

"I'm going to kill Ayanda, how could she not tell me this," Thembi yells _. Fuck_. My sister is not the only one who wants to kill Ayanda at this moment. It was just a few hours ago that this girl was telling me in not so many words how much she wants me to kiss her again. So, _dammit_ , this is news to me.

"Well, it only happened this morning, kind of explains her strange behaviour don't you think?" Khaya says.

"I'm so happy for you guys," Thembi squeals with mock romance in her eyes and I want to hurl. I have this urge to punch something so badly. Clementine gives me a knowing look and I shake my head at her in warning. She's smart enough not to say anything. As, for me, I don't trust myself to pull a decent sentence together so I keep my mouth shut. Wanting to get the hell away from here, go to Ayanda and demand an explanation. My jaws clench and I suddenly can't stand to be in the same room as my brother. I use my usual excuse to get away.

"I have a few phone calls to make." With that said, I jolt away. I head up to my editing room and stare at the big beautiful brown eyes looking into me even through the photos.

_Damn_. This girl, she looks so innocent and I can't believe she's the type to play games with good guys like my brother. It's Khaya I'm concerned about because - the poor guy is clearly in-love and from what his so called girl got up to with me last night I beg to differ, she feels the same way. _Or does she? Damn_. I desperately want to know if she really feels something for my brother. I desperately want to know if he kisses her better than I did. I want to know if he makes her blood boil. I want to know if she's dreamt about him like she confessed just this morning of dreaming about me. I want to know if she comes and calls out his name when he's buried deep inside her womanly folds. _Fuck._ The thought alone makes my fists clench.

I'm just about ready to burst with jealousy? No, it can't be jealousy because this woman is not even mine so why am I acting like a complete jerk? I take a deep breath and force these thoughts out of my mind.

"This woman is playing games with you and she doesn't even know it?" Clementine says from behind me. I didn't even notice she had opened the door and was peering at me. Her words disturb me. In fact - her words infuriate me even more.

_Games_.

Nobody plays games with me period. I'm too smart for that kind of bullshit, especially from a woman. I'm just not sure my brother is – the guy is a goofball, who's madly in-love.

_Fuck_ , _I need a smoke_. Frustrated, I get out of my editing room without a glance at Clementine and head down the stairs, then towards the balcony. I pull out a cigarette, light it up and inhale deeply. That. Feels. Good.

"Damn you Ayanda," I whisper, closing my eyes and trying not to see her through my mind's eye. I try not to imagine how she feels. I try not to imagine how she probably looks when she's naked. How her body would taste if I was inside her. By the time, I've composed myself, I head back into the kitchen and find the dinner table neatly decorated and set. Khaya and Clementine are seated as Thembi grabs the last bit of dishes with food and sets them on the table. I'm starving and the food smells delicious but I don't have much of an appetite. Thembi gapes at me and smiles a gripping dimple filled smile and my heart melts as usual when it comes to her. I love my sister and for her I will succumb to a pretentious hell of a good time Sunday family lunch. The kid in me wishes mama was here with us. I miss that woman. I miss her smile, her laugh and her tender loving care. I take my seat and force a smile.

"Let's pray," Thembi says and turns to me warmly. "Will you Zak?" she asks. _Fuck._ This is awkward. I can't remember the last time I prayed. It was when dad was alive. When we would attend church and listen to the word that he had to bring us.

My father the pastor, my father the hero of Soweto, my father - a man of many faces apparently. A flashback of my past life floods through my mind. I choke back a frustrated grunt and frown. _Fuck, you dad_. With my eyes shut, I force the words out of my mouth.

"Thank you father for the food and the hands that made it," There - I said it exactly how I remember reciting it as a child. For a moment, all eyes are on me and I'm embarrassed at the thought that they watched me almost come undone.

Lunch goes surprisingly well and I try to act interested in the conversation. Khaya is in an obviously jolly good mood, hell he looks like he's just won the lotto, he's been like this since he arrived actually but of course, it all makes sense now that I know the cause of his jolly mood. I'm trying so hard to be happy for my brother but somehow it all just doesn't sit well with me.

"The food was delicious Thembi, thank you," Clementine says and gets up to clear the table.

"Excuse me. I have to call my girlfriend," Khaya says in that overly loud tone of his, winking at me as he jolts to the passage. _Fuck him_. It's almost like he knows how much this is killing me. He heads out into the passage and I just sit there unable to move. I zone out again when Clementine and Thembi start washing the dishes. After a few minutes, Khaya comes back and that stupid little smirk he's been wearing all day has vanished. He's gloomy now, aloof and look completely lost.

He doesn't even look at me as he takes his seat and finishes his drink. I see this as my opportunity to play big brother but only because I want to know what's going on and why the change in his mood.

"Everything ok," I ask. He shrugs then slumps in his seat.

"Ayanda, I don't understand her. I don't understand how I upset her," he murmurs. "I don't understand women," he adds. I nod and raise my glass where we share a toast.

"Ah, little brother, you're going to learn." He gives me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and then sips on his drink. I get the impression that my brother has very little or no experience at all when it comes to women. The pretty ones with innocent faces are often the bad ones.

"I'm just glad you actually have a girlfriend Khaya," Thembi jokes and they all join her in a chuckle. I don't though. I just look at my brother – what a strange goofball he is.

He thinks he's in love but I intend to find out exactly what game Ayanda is trying to play and put an end to it.

Khaya and I are just starting to mend our relationship. I refuse to let a woman come and mess it all up, I don't care how long he's known her or how long he's been chasing her and not forgetting how beautiful she is too.

That pretty little thing is not to be trusted. I just wish my body was aware of that realization.
Chapter 11

Aya

It's a chilly May Monday morning but the sun is out, barely glistening. I'm dressed in baggy dungarees and a white tank top getting ready to head out for my photo appointment with Zak at twelve. I'm nervous and I can't even stomach my cereal - it tastes like cardboard. I check the time, it's almost 9 and if I want to get to Rosebank in time by taxi then I better leave.

I duck to my room and grab a cardigan and then I check myself in the mirror before veering out into the passage. I decide to tie up my hair in a thick up braid so it doesn't disturb me as I gallivant to a place that I'm not even familiar with. It's usually quiet this side of Parktown, not a single soul in sight. I walk to the robot opposite the main street and indicate for a taxi.

"Bree Street," I tell the driver. He nods and after half an hour, he drops me off next to the taxi rank. I climb out and walk to the queue marshal.

"Taxi's to Rosebank please," I ask one of the old men standing next to a line of taxis. He points to a red old taxi in need of servicing at the end of the line. There's a queue of people already waiting there so I join them. We wait for about an hour and then quickly fill up the taxi and burn off the street. I'm seated in the back seat with three other people.

_Shit_. I'm squashed, sitting in between two very big women and quite frankly I'm very uncomfortable. This reminds me of my varsity days when I used to travel every morning to campus. _I don't miss it at all._ The assignments, tutorials, tests and exams were like a slow death for me every damn second of it.

It's a long drive to Rosebank by taxi from town and this frustrates me because by car it only takes about twenty minutes from Parktown. I stare out the window for the rest of the drive. After many stops, we're finally in Rosebank. The driver comes to a halt when we reach the main shopping mall and I climb out with a bunch of other people.

_Fuck, I need to get a freaken car_. I cross the busy street in quick steps and make my way inside the mall. It's already 11:30 and I'm not even sure where exactly I have to go. I just know that it's a complex called Oak Lakes.

I walk my way out of the mall and then up a quiet long street leading towards Lake Avenue. Once I'm there, I look around at the buildings until I spot the name Oak Lakes on one of the fancy walls. I'm tired and suddenly very self-conscious. I stand next to the wall and compose myself. I reach into my handbag and take out my mirror - the girl I see staring back at me looks nothing like a model. Gone are the rainbows and the high of feeling being beautiful. I frown and attempt to fix myself by powdering my nose. I re-apply gloss to my lips and then try not to look so tired. It's 12:10 when I ring the bell.

"Your purpose," one of the security guys asks rudely. "I'm here to see Zak - uhm, I mean Mr Nkosi." Crap, I'm even stumbling on my words.

"Mr Nkosi does not have any appointments today," he tells me. _Shit, what?_ Ok, maybe I should have called Zak and asked if we were still on but dammit I forgot. I'm so, frustrated at myself for being gullible and to top it off - I'm tired. As in really tired like I've just ran marathon kind of tired. _I don't need this crap._

"Can you just tell him, Ayanda is outside," I say in defeat at the disgustingly rude man. I watch him as he picks up the phone and makes a call. After five whole minutes, the boom gate opens and he lets me in. I'm very tempted to swear at this buffoon of a man as I walk passed him but I hold myself together and say nothing. From one of the interwoven buildings, Clementine comes down to greet me or scowl at me rather.

She's never liked me and the feeling is mutual. I don't even have an aura for her that's how much I don't give a damn about her. It's been like this since high school between us but I left my ridiculous immaturity years ago - she can't seem to let it all go.

"You're late," she says and intimates for me to follow. I glance at my watch knowing very well that I'm late and follow her up the stairs. It's a beautiful place but not very homey. It's decorated in simple elegant furniture and sculptures. I take a seat on one of the sofas and wait. Clementine has disappeared - much to my annoyance. I don't know what the hell is going on but I'm feeling extremely uncomfortable. I sit in the living room for about an hour before Clementine returns and hands me an open packet of facial wipes.

"Remove all your make-up," she tells me. I look at her for a while and make no attempt to move. I'm just so annoyed at her and I'm even more pissed off at the fact that Zak is nowhere to be seen.

"I don't have all day," she yells. Angrily, I pick up the damn packet and take out a wet facial wipe. I bring it towards my cheek and rub uncomfortably. _Shit._ This is going to require a mirror or something. Without saying a word Clementine crosses to me, grabs the facial wipe and carefully removes my make-up.

"All done," she says and stands. "Come with me." I follow her as she leads me towards a wide open room with white walls. There's a camera set up on a tripod and a few more equipment that I don't recognize. It looks like a studio. Clementine then places a high wooden chair opposite the camera a few steps away from me.

"Take a seat and look straight into the camera." I do as she requested despite my annoyance. She puts the camera on and then switches it off again. She looks like she's contemplating something. _Shit_. She actually heads back out again and once again - I'm an empty canvas. I'm left on my own feeling like an idiot.

_Why the hell did I come here?_ When Clementine finally returns I'm so exasperated, I want to pull out of this whole ordeal. "Clementine," I whisper, feeling defeated. She ignores me and stands in front of the camera again. "I don't think I want to do this anymore," I confess. This time, she rolls her eyes at me.

"I don't want to do this either but here I am giving you a piece of my precious time, so suck it up. Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?" she yells. Before she can say another word, I get up, grab my bag and head for the door. I make it a step out the door before I bump into a hard chest. I practically slip and almost fall when strong familiar arms grab a hold of me. I look up at Zak's burning brown gaze and freeze.

"Easy there," he says calmly. I'm so exasperated that seeing Zak and his usual cool, calm and collected self only pisses me off even more. I quickly recover from the usual soul grabbing look in his eyes and find myself shoving at his chest. He lets go of me and leads me back into the room by blocking my steps.

"Problem?" he asks. "No," I yell and then turn to Clementine. "I just don't feel like doing this crap anymore."

"I told you she's unreliable Zak," Clementine yells. Zak turns to me and raises his brow. He's still wearing that annoying cool demeanour that illuminates around him like a flame and no matter how many times, it burns me, I still want to touch it. I want the fire.

"So you came all this way just to tell me that you're not interested anymore?" he asks with mock annoyance.

"No, I came all this way to get this screen test done so I can be on my way, not to get here and be rudely attended to by this so called assistant of yours or whatever she is to you." I storm out, feeling strangely dramatic as I exit the scene. I hear Zak and Clementine exchange a few words as I head out but I don't mind them enough to decipher their bickering. I steal a look over my shoulder and see Zak making his way just a few feet behind me. Then I do the most foolish thing \- I run.

"Ayanda," Zak yells but I ignore him. _Damn._ I've had enough. I run all the way down the stairs and towards the passage in bewilderment. I'm a little confused though, this place is enormous. My hand comes up to my head in desperation as I ponder my next move.

_I just want to get the hell away from here_. Zak catches up to me before I can run again and rests a giant hand on my shoulder. I try to shove his hand away but he's not having it. I'm suddenly jerked towards him in a strong hold. He pins me against the wall ever so gently, how? I don't know. Encircling my wrists against my chest with one hand and snaking my waist with the other.

"What are you doing?" he whispers calmly, looking at me like I'm completely crazy.

"I'm leaving." I struggle to free myself but he's stronger than me and I'm just - I'm just so bloody exhausted - I want to cry.

"Why are you leaving?" he asks and I frown dramatically like the reason is obvious.

"Let go of me Zak, ok, just let go of me." I try to shove at his chest with my trapped hands, but he doesn't let go. Instead - his hold tightens just enough to make me flinch. He then pins my hands up above my head in a firm grip. Frustrated, I squeeze my eyes shut and bite on the inside of my mouth. _This man is testing my patience_.

"Ayanda, don't go ok," he pleads almost playfully. _Trust Zak to find my dramatic act of annoyance hilarious_. I open my eyes and meet his. That luminous red, glowing all around him again, with his face just inches from mine. His eyes are pleading with me, gone is the humour. I look at him intently and then cower away and make an observation of his clothes. He's dressed in faded jeans and a simple black T-shirt that fits him to perfection. I get a better glimpse of his sleeve of tattoos along his arms. It's an enticing design of black ink that I now see is a bunch of words. I force my eyes away from his strong arms and look back up at his face. He's wearing that black fedora hat that I love too, the one that makes him look like a black rock star of some sort. As should be expected, this man smells amazing and I can't seem to string a sentence together any more yet along comprehend how a smoker can smell this divine.

He notices me practically groping at him and I see a ghost of a smile on his handsome but annoying face. It quickly disappears when my blackberry buzzes in an overly loud song by One direction. Shit. I want to curl up into a dark pit and never come out but I've never been more grateful to whoever it is that's calling me. Zak raises a brow at me and then shakes his head as if once again enjoying my little predicament.

"I'm a One Direction fan ok," I confess and get a low chuckle out of him.

"Oh by all means, I didn't say anything Ayanda." He releases me and frowns. "Answer that damn thing already," he adds and I can't help but smile, forgetting that I'm supposedly really mad at him.

I reach down into my pocket and check the caller I.D. _Shit._ It's Khaya. I stare at Zak and he makes no attempt to move, he simply stands in front of me, his gaze scorching my face with those deep brown eyes of his that make me want to curl up and melt. I look away as I answer, feeling rather - invaded. "Hey," I say nervously. I try my best not to look at Zak. _God, why can't he just take a few steps back or something?_ He's so close, too close that, I'm afraid he'll actually hear the person on the other end of my call.

"My love it's so good to hear your voice," Khaya says, practically shouting on the line, always ever so sweet but loud, way too loud and jolly. "Are you home? I want to come by later," he continues. I bite at the inside of my mouth nervously and steal a glance at Zak. He's still keeping an eye on me like a predator. I scowl at him and he smirks. _Damn him and that lopsided grin of his_.

"I'm not home Khaya. I have a job interview." I lie, ashamed by this person that I've become. Well it isn't technically a lie - it just isn't the complete truth either. I look at Zak again from the corner of my eye. He tilts his head to the side and I can see he's enjoying this because of the devilment on his face. I want to punch the grin off his face so badly.

"Really, wow Aya. That's fantastic news," Khaya says, always ever so happy for me. I'm still gaping at Zak and decide to do something to spite him and maybe even take away that stupid grin of his.

"Your brother's offered me a job," I say to Khaya loud enough to make sure Zak hears me since he wants to freaken eavesdrop on my phone call. Zak raises a brow at me and his jaw clenches, he's trying to hide his shock and irritation but I can see he's affected. We stare at each other and I barely hear what Khaya says next. I'm lost in Zak's intense gaze. It's all red again in my mind. _Shit._ Zak looks pissed and I'm a mixture of nerves and satisfaction like oil is to water. I've been worried about how I would explain this whole working for Zak thing to Khaya but it seems God has given me a perfect opportunity with this phone call. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I let out an exhausted sigh of relief.

"Ok my love. I'll see you later. I love you," Khaya says. "I love you too," I murmur back to him before I hang up. Zak scrubs a hand down his face and then over his head, making his hat fall off. Frustrated, he growls deep in his throat and I know I'm not going to like whatever it is that's going to come out of that tempting mouth of his.

"Why the hell did you tell Khaya about the job if you plan on leaving?" he questions me. I sigh and look up at him. _I'm not in the mood for this_. I saw this coming but still, I'm not really sure why he's angry. I should be the one that's angry. I get here and it's a complete waste of my time. I fist my hands on my hips and get ready to burst.

"It's almost three and I have two taxis to catch if I want to make it home before it gets dark. I don't need this crap. I told you, I'm not a bloody model Zak." His eyes widen and then he frowns. "You came here by taxi?" he asks almost in disgust. "Ayanda, you came here by taxi." This time it's not a question but a frustrated statement of disbelief. His tone pushes me a little but I nod calmly even though I want to punch him again. _God, this man is exhausting_.

"Did you think I flew here?" I joke but he doesn't find me remotely amusing.

"Why would you do that Ayanda, why didn't you tell me to fetch you? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there for a young woman traveling in those awful conditions?" He's serious right now but strangely my anger has slowly dispelled and I want to laugh so badly. I can't help the smirk on my face as I regard him playfully.

"A lot of people travel by public transport every day in South Africa Zak and they make it to their destination in one peace. It's no big deal." I bring my hand up to my mouth to suppress my laughter. This seems to anger him even more.

"A lot of people," he yells, shaking his head. "Do you want to be a lot of people Ayanda?" This time, there's sarcasm in his voice. He's still serious though and I can't fathom how he has the audacity to point his finger at me. "More than over sixty per cent of accidents in Johannesburg alone are caused by taxi drivers. People are dying Ayanda and I don't want you to be one of them." He frowns and then continues scolding me. "We can hardly be certain that these recent xenophobic violence attacks have deterred Ayanda, it's not safe."

Ok, he's got a point about the xenophobic attacks, I'll give him that but damn. I've been catching taxis since I was a teenager. This is my life. I don't have a car, so go figure. Hell, I don't even have a driver's license.

"You're exaggerating and for your information, some of us don't have cars so how the hell, do you expect us to get around?" I ask with pure determination to make my point.

"Flip, I don't even know how to drive Zak," I add and this time I don't hold back my laugh. I laugh out loudly but it's not a humorous laugh. It's a laugh of shame and disappointment in this person that I've become. A failure - I am a complete failure at this thing called life. Zak seems to have lost his voice, for an exhausting minute because he doesn't say anything. He just looks at me, so seriously that - I feel foolish and I stop laughing even though I'm still smiling awkwardly. I see something in his eyes - a glow like an oil painting that grips me and just like that, my smile vanishes.

The intensity of Zak's concern makes me meet his gaze with one of my own. Something's changed, the atmosphere around us, the energy in the room is almost tangible. In a single movement, he brings me towards his chest gently and I hold back a sigh. He cups my face and lets his giant fingers roam around my cheeks, ears and the soft bit of curls sticking out from my up braid. He seems to be struggling to keep his emotions at bay. I'm completely aware of everything about him when he's this close. My brain goes on overdrive and I see rainbows again, blinding me from seeing straight.

"Ayanda, this is so simple. If you don't have a car, you ask people like me to drop you off. If you don't know how to drive, you ask people like me to teach you," he says arrogantly but there's no arrogance or ego reflecting in his eyes, only that powerful glow of concern that has me in tangles. I come to a realization that makes me completely change my perception about this man. He is not as arrogant as I thought he was - it's all an act. He pretends to be arrogant just to intimidate people. His act is not working on me anymore, I see right through him. My hands come up to his wrists and then up to his hands where he's trapping my face. He's looking into me in that way that makes me feel smudgy like acrylic and exposed like glass windows. I can feel my blood boiling and coming up to my cheeks. I'm flushed now and my voice is a mere whisper as I try to speak.

"I have to go Zak."

"Stay Ayanda, We have work to do, I'll drop you off when we finish ok. I promise. I'll take care of you," he pleads. I contemplate this and somehow when he's looking at me like this, the most foolish things come out of my mouth.

"Ok, I'll stay but only...but only if you'll shoot the screen test and not Clementine."

He laughs that low chuckle of his that makes me, want to combust and then he rests his forehead against mine. This man is just so weird but his actions towards me always seem so natural and instinctive. I close my eyes and revel in the feel of his skin against mine. Ferruginous \- that's what he is. His temple against mine - it's a simple gesture but one that I always find very tender and intimate. He does and says the sweetest things sometimes - I'm in awe.

"I'm a photographer Ayanda. I don't do screen tests, that's Clementine's job," he whispers. I shake my head and he looks at me with amusement in his eyes.

"Please do it Zak, it has to be you. She makes me uncomfortable. Please Zak," I beg and I don't even care much that I probably sound like a whiny child who wants too much candy. He looks at me with a smirk on his face, an annoying smirk that I always foolishly find extremely sexy. I try to move away from his hold but he's not having it. He keeps his hands on either side of my face gently and shakes his head. For a moment he seems lost in thought as if he's contemplating something.

"How about we skip the whole screen test thing? You've already got the job Ayanda, so there's no need." His fingers caress my cheek lightly as he ponders this. I'm all tingly inside, like warm liquid with acid boiling with every stroke of his fingers on me. He sucks in a breath, barely containing himself.

"You're so fucken beautiful Ayanda and you're talented too, I just know deep within my core that you're the one. You're my muse Ayanda. It's got to be you." He squeezes his eyes shut for a second like he's struggling with an internal battle and then he lets his fingers slip away from my cheeks. I feel my eyes nearly water at the sound of his words but I blink the tears away. I'm not going to embarrass myself and expose the fact that I'm not used to hearing such words of praise. I'll be damned if I let him know how much his words mean to me too. It's all so overwhelming and it makes me want to crawl away quietly and hide.

Embarrassed, I look down and knot my fingers when his one hand reaches for my face again, grabbing my chin with his index finger. He tilts my head up.

"I want to show you something," he says and takes my hand. He grabs his hat from the floor before he leads me out of the many passages until we find ourselves in the living room. Without releasing my hand, he leads me out of the house and down the stairs to the parking.

"Where are we going?" I ask. He looks down at me and smiles. "I have no idea actually, I just want to paint the town red with you, seek out inspiration maybe," he says. Like a girl sprung, I don't question him any further, I simply follow him quietly. We get to where his Range is parked and he opens the door for me. I hop inside and rest my head back against the seat, feeling the true extent of my exhaustion.
Chapter 12

Zak

I glance at the girl seated quietly next to me as I drive us through Jeppestown. I'm thinking of taking her to Maboneng precinct so we can have a fill of the art there but now as I glance at our surroundings - the repercussions of the recent xenophobic violence is still evident along these busy streets of town. So instead, I let instinct rule me, driving us towards the South.

Ayanda's silence goes on for practically the whole drive but when we reach Soweto, it starts to get on my nerves. I thought we were making ground. Frowning, I look at her from the corner of my eye. She seems lost in thought so I gape at her openly without her even noticing. Her flawless skin is free of make-up, because it's, Clementine's pre-requisite for a screen test and still, this girl looks amazing. The perfect portrait is what she is. I've been at war with myself about whether or not I should stay away from her ever since I found out about her so called relationship with my brother.

Looking at her now, in her baggy jean attire or whatever the fuck they call those hipster things she has on - I realize how much she fascinates me not just as a photgrapher but as, a man. It's not so much the fact that she doesn't realize how beautiful she is but more the fact that she doesn't seem to want to be seen. I get the feeling that she wants to be the girl in the background like an extra in a movie, the faded clip or the Michelle of Destiny's child. Fuck - I almost laugh but instead, I say something really stupid.

"What are you wearing?" Now that the words are out of my mouth, they sound even more ridiculous, I hope she doesn't take offense. As if coming out of a trance, she looks at me and then scrubs a hand down her face woozily, stifling a yawn. "What's wrong with my clothes?" she asks and I can hear from her lazy tone that she didn't take offense to my asshole gay comment. _Why the hell did I ask her that?_

"Nothing, they're just... interesting. So like...you," I stutter. _Damn_. Everything about her is interesting. I'm used to girls who prefer to wear skin tight clothes that show off all the curves that God gave them but no - not this girl. She doesn't care for that kind of attention. She smirks. "Dungarees, they're called dungarees Zak, geez."

"You're such hippie," I tell her and her smile broadens. I see stars in her eyes, beaming at me, and it only makes me more certain that there's no way in hell, I'll be able to stay away from her. No. Fucken. Way.

I won't be able to stay away from that smile or yet along that face, those eyes and those lips. Those lips that are now forming a luscious pout - ok I'm not sure if she meant for it to look luscious as I'm imagining it - she probably meant it more like a tease but either way it drives me crazy. So, Nope - I won't be able to stay away from her. I did try to avoid her when she showed up today for the screen test but then again that almost cost me my muse. I have to work with this girl because I want her for this brand and I want her paintings too, maybe after that, I can convince her to sell a few to me.

And just like that, I find myself driving her towards Pimville to meet my kids. Fuck – don't know why, I'm suddenly extremely nervous. I bite on my tongue, at war with myself before I force the words out of my mouth because, what's the point of stalling, we're already here.

"There's a group of kids...from an orphanage that I work with down in Soweto, their artwork is insane. I...I kind of want you to meet them." Fuck – I'm stuttering like an idiot, I can't even look at her anymore. I'm too afraid of what I'll see, what she'll say.

"I'd love to meet them." And of all the things that I expected her to say, this was not one of them. Ayanda doesn't seem to be curious about my agenda like most people. She is a strange one. I still can't figure her out sometimes – well, most of the time.

After a few turns, we pull up outside the orphanage. It's a small house painted in bright graphic colours of many murals. One of the teenage boys working just outside the house comes up to the gate, running and yelling when he sees me, pure delight in his eyes.

"Zak, you're here, you're actually here." I roll down my window and I hold out a fisted hand for him to fist pump, ever so enthusiastically.

"How are you doing kiddo?"

"Great, now that you're here. Zee, you have to check out my mural, you just have to," the boy squeals, pointing at the wall. More kids show up from inside the house and the sound of their screaming and singing is almost deafening. Ayanda is surprisingly still as she regards all of this. Looking at her, I wonder what she's thinking. I don't even know why I brought her here. It was just intuition. Not a lot of people know about my involvement here. Why I would bring her here? I'm not sure. It just seemed fitting. It's not like I'm trying to impress her or anything. _Would this impress her? Is she even impressed_? Like a fool, I can't help but wonder, hating the fact that I really want to know if she's impressed.

"An orphanage, geez Zak, you're a man of many faces," Ayanda says, almost mockingly.

The afternoon goes really well. I'm entertained by Ayanda's many animations as she engages with my kids. They seem to really like her and the fact that her doodles are pure perfection has them really into her. By the time we leave it's almost four in the afternoon.

I drive us slowly around the area, then towards the Orlando towers. I park my Range by the stadium private parking lot and then we walk a long while before we reach the towers.

Ayanda, to my amusement hasn't said much as we walk but the closer we get, her eyes dart up, glancing up at the towers like she's looking at a ghost. I remember the night we stood on the rooftop of my club in Rosebank, when I kissed her, how she mentioned something about being afraid of heights.

Her fear is evident now more than ever - though she's hiding it very well. Despite her tough act, I see right through her. I know she's terrified but it's not like I'll make her bungee or something.

"I just want to pick your brain," I whisper but she doesn't say anything. I take her small shaking hand in mine and she holds on to me for dear life as I lead her towards the Chaf Pozi information desk. Her eyes are questioning and I can see she wants to ask me what the hell is going on but decides to remain mute. Then she stops abruptly, surprising me when she turns and links both our hands together.

Her fingers are soft and small and fit so perfectly between mine. Her breathing has picked up a notch and she looks like she's suffocating to drag in a full breath from her lungs. Blinking back tears, she inhales again.

"I think it's a beautiful thing, what you're doing for those kids," she confesses but there's more to come. I wait for it, patiently wondering what's going on in that strange, overly worked mind of hers.

"But, I just don't get it. I don't get you Zak, why are you doing all of this...with me and the...those kids?" I was waiting for this question. I was waiting for her to judge me. For a while I just look at her. I have no words. "What do you have to gain from this?" she adds.

"Ayanda, these kids have everything to gain. Don't you get, it's not about me. It's about the artists, the kids... they have nothing but their art to offer to the world Ayanda. An artist has nothing more than the power of his work."

"So, you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart?" She laughs and I'm almost offended but I say nothing - I sense an explanation. "You just didn't strike me as the type of guy who would waste his time on something that most likely won't generate you any immediate profit." I don't know why I'm tempted to defend myself even though I know she probably didn't mean it in a bad way.

"What makes you think that my only motive in life is profit?" I try but fail to hide the bitterness in my voice. She's answers me like it's a no brainer.

"You own clubs all around the country. You have a thriving business that's listed on the JSE for crying out loud. You're an entrepreneur Zak, not an art curator." Her tone sets me off a little and like an idiot, I desperately want to be redeemed in her eyes. For the first time in my life - I want to justify my actions to someone.

"When dad passed away, the first few months were the worst of my lives. Can't even imagine what ma, Khaya and Thembz were going through. In the midst of it all...In the midst of it all Ayanda -" I pause now, swallowing hard, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Ayanda's eyes are wide on me, willing me to continue. I scratch my head in frustration. _Why did I even bring this shit up?_

"In the midst of it all, all I wanted to do was take pictures for a living. Can you believe it? The audacity of a young kids dream but, do you have any idea what it's like to be hungry Ayanda? Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up every day and watch your mother fight for her life or watching your little brother and sister starve? As a woman, you wouldn't understand what it's like for a man, even a young one of only eighteen to watch his family starve. I just couldn't do it. I had to go. I had to go hunt."

Ayanda is the stillest of still as she watches me. The guilt and compassion are evident on her ever so expressive face. I don't know why I told her that, I've never felt the need to justify myself to anyone but somehow, I don't want her to go around thinking I'm a bastard, even if I am.

"I'm building a legacy for my family Ayanda. This is why I do what I do. It's all for them, whether they want it or not but it's all for them. What I have, It's all for my family Ayanda. I don't want them to ever go a day without a meal. I don't want mama to work. I want Thembi to have all that she wants and I want Khaya to be happy. I don't want my lil bro to work stupid night shift after night shift just to make ends meet." I don't meet Ayanda's teary gaze now as I continue to ramble. It feels good actually. It feels good to have somebody to let all this shit out on, as humiliating as it is. I just have this need to tell her what's on my mind.

"This is all for them Ayanda. It's all for them because, I'll never spend all this money on my own in one lifetime. This is all for my family Ayanda, can't you see?"Ayanda's guilt is replaced by sudden confusion and a spark of alarming rage that I don't understand. Reaching for her, I cup her chin so she can look at me but she doesn't say anything. She just looks at me in amusement. "What's up," I question her, with frowning eyes.

"Tell me, please Ayanda. Talk to me."

"You can't fucken be serious Zak," she whispers and I was not expecting that at all from her so I raise my brow at her, my frown deepening. She sees my confusion but doesn't give me a chance to talk.

"So, this is all for your family ha, the same family that you abandoned so you could go and build your empire?" Fuck, something inside me goes off like a grenade and she seems to notice. "Zak, come on, you know I didn't really mean it like that but come on," Ayanda quickly adds, her face completely horrified as she regards me.

I keep quiet and let her sweat it out a little. A part of me is still trying to figure out how I'm not beyond outraged by her. I should be fuming. I should be at the highest boiling point. I should be mad as fuck - but I'm not, atleast not yet. I know her words are true. I did abandon my family and it was all out of fear and anger. Anger towards my old man and his intentional death, what we discovered he had done. Like a coward, I ran away from the repercussions of his actions. I let that fear keep me away from my family for ten years. The anger didn't completely destroy me. It only fuelled me to succeed. Feeling justified, I let Ayanda's words sink in, deep enough to unravel me. I grab both sides of her small face, tilting her face up so she looks at me and say the most absurd thing ever – out of pride of course, out of damn fucken pride.

"I'm a fucken millionaire Ayanda. It was all worth it if you ask me because, look at me now. I'm fucken millionaire."

She looks at me, eyes wide and filled with so much hurt that it scrapes at me from within. It literally feels like someone's scraping at my flesh. She shakes her head slowly and squeezes her eyes shut. Embarrassed, I try to justify myself again, "It was all worth it Ayanda, it was all worth it ok." _Shit_ , _what the fuck is wrong with me_. This time, when she looks up her me, I think she's about to cry.

"You're a fool if you believe that Zak," she whispers and just like that, she frees herself from my hold and strides away.

"Ayanda," I yell but she continues to walk away from me. The further she walks away from me, the more my desperation for her builds. I want control of this situation and I want it now. When I'm this irritated, the bastard in me comes out in full swing. In a few long strides, I catch up to her and tug at her arm so she turns to look at me.

"I never abandoned my family Ayanda. Don't talk about things that you don't understand. I never abandoned them. I've been sending them money every fucken month. I worked my ass off for all that I've got Ayanda, and it's all for them." She doesn't seem convinced by my outburst. Instead - she jabs me on my chest hard enough to make me release her and she starts walking away again. Stopping abruptly, she turns and stalks right back at me again, fuming. "You know, I thought I saw something in you," she rants. This time, she's ranting almost loudly enough for everyone near us to hear.

"Khaya works two jobs, two jobs Zak to make ends meet. He works night shifts and still makes time for his studies. Your mother wakes up at five, every morning and prays. Thembi, well, Thembi cries herself to sleep every night Zak. I don't think they're living off of your fucken millions or else why would they be suffering. Some legacy you're building," she cries and I can't even look at her anymore.

"News flash, your mother is sick all the time Zak and Khaya...Khaya is in and out of hospital. He pretends to be ok but he's not. He's not ok Zak...he needs you. They all need you. Why did you leave Zak?" she stutters hoarsely and comes veering close enough to me, to poke her finger at my chest.

I stand frozen and shocked, unable to do a damn thing. This is all too much for me. _How the fuck did we get to talking heavy shit like this?_

Her words, they've shocked me to my core. My heart feels like it is being hammered down into. I take a few steps back and shake my head in disbelief. I feel like I'm being trampled on and I'm breaking into a million pieces inside. I feel – attacked. Squeezing my eyes shut to compose myself, I breathe in and out.

When I open my eyes, a quick glimpse at Ayanda is enough to make me look away again. She's looking at me with a desperate look in her eyes and blinking back the tears that are threatening to chase down her face like hurricane Katrina. She closes the distance between us and then does something that almost sucks away all the breath from my lungs.

She leans up and stands on her tippy toes to take my face in her small hands. Her touch is gentle on my stubble filled face and I'm so fucken nervous, I want the world to swallow me. "Why did you leave Zak? Tell me please," she pleads. I'm exasperated and thrilled all at the same time. This girl will be the death of me but I'm not about ready to die yet - hell can wait just a few more years.

"Why did you leave Zak?" she murmurs again against my cheek. I lose it. This is too much for me. I use the only defence force that I have over her – physical strength.

I shove her hands away from my face in a single quick movement and scowl at her in warning.

"It's none of your fucken business Ayanda." As if defeated, Ayanda turns from me and strides away again, but I'm not having it. This is not how I planned our "paint the town red" afternoon to progress. With careful strides, I catch up to her and take her arm. _I have to turn this situation around._

"Ayanda, this right here," I gesture between us and our surroundings dramatically with my free hand. "This right here is a work thing. You work for me now remember and so you can't just walk away. We are not done here, and you know what? You have no right to judge me or question me about shit that doesn't even concern you." She regards me for a second and then shoves her arm free of my hold.

"Excuse me?" she breathes in annoyance but I don't back down. I'm pissed as fuck and I desperately want to get her back for making me feel like this. Yes, I'm a fucken asshole most of the time and Ayanda is about to be schooled at this.

I don't say anything for a while, I just regard her. The disappointment in her eyes makes me want to desperately get a hold of myself. I feel like I'm over-reacting and maybe I am but she's pushed me too far.

"I brought you here so we can get a closer look at the art work painted on the towers not to discuss my private matters," I tell her and now she breathes in a sigh of relief and then nods. As if she's grateful for the change of topic. "Just to admire the artwork?" she asks, her voice is a shaky low whisper as she regards me with hooded eyes.

"What do you think of it?" I ask, just out of curiosity. Following her eyes, I look up at the bright painted work on the giant 33-storey sky scrapers.

On the one tower, there's a show of corporate branding images and on the other there are more artistic images. The South African flag, an Orlando Pirates sports team emblem, the famous Joburg city yellow train, a Nelson Mandela portrait and a First National Bank emblem. It's all very cliché and I get what the artists were obviously going for but I personally do not find the art work very intriguing. I turn my focus back to Ayanda who's staring at the towers with disgust.

"The art work is simple and very local, very proudly South African but not very enticing," she says after a while. Her discomfort about being out here with me is obvious though and this quickly adds again to my growing frustration.

I want her to trust me. I want her to realize that I have her best interests at heart, at least when it comes to work. Strangely, I also want to shake her up a little and then put her back together again, just like she did to me just a few minutes ago even if she wasn't aware of it all. She's too passive and almost uncomfortable in her own skin. It's irritating the crap out of me. She's watching me intently, waiting for me to say something and I can see the fear in her eyes as devilment plays on my face. I'm smirking like a genius who's just figured out the answer to an extremely difficult equation.

"So what now," she stutters. It's getting chilly and her hands are cold as I take them. I raise our hands and cover her fisted palms in mine while I blow warm air into them with my mouth. "I think we should play a little game." I lead her once more towards the information desk. One usually has to book early in order to be allowed to go up the viewing platform but, me being me I get the benefit of the doubt because money talks in South Africa. After negotiating with the staff, I eventually get my way.

"Please don't make me do it. I'm not going up there," Ayanda tells me. I trap her head gently with my hands on either side of her face, my eyes challenging her like I did that night at King when we went up to the rooftop.

"You can do this Ayanda." I gaze up at the sky. It's a deep orange as the last remains of the setting sun shimmer in light. Ayanda follows my gaze, squinting as she lets out a frustrated grunt.

"What's the point of this?" She shoves at my chest. "Do you just enjoy making a fool out of me Zak? I'm not bungee jumping." I was half expecting her to say something stupid like that. I'm not worried because that's not my intention at all. I want to delve into her fears as much as she wants to delve into mine. So many things I want to say to her right now to make her understand why I'm doing this but it's getting late.

"I want to watch the sunset with her 33-storey's up high," I breathe, checking the time on my watch. "The more we stand here and try figure out my motives the later it will get Ayanda," I explain but my eyes soften, simply because she looks genuinely freaked out now, she's no longer hiding her fear from me. She's puffing her cheeks and trying desperately to stop herself from fuming. She looks adorable and I almost -almost feel sorry for her.

"Trust me ok," I whisper in her ear in an attempt to help her overcome her discomfort. I reach out my open hand to her, challenging her again with my eyes. Slowly she takes my hand. Everything inside me tells me that there's no way in hell this girl is going to back away from a challenge. As much as she doesn't know it, she's actually really brave, that's one of the first qualities I noticed about her. Tears stream down her face freely as she slowly places her shaking hand in mine. My heart is doing cartwheels at the beauty of this moment. Her placing her hand in mine - this right here, is an act of trust.

"I get it. You've made your point ok. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have questioned you about your family and your, save the orphans art project. I get it ok and I'm sorry." Her sobs are uncontrollable when we reach the elevator and she clasps my hand so hard that I think her knuckles will hurt.

"Zak - Zak please, I can't," she murmurs between breaths. Her eyes squeeze shut and her hands come up to curl around my neck in a strong desperate hold.

_Shit,_ _Maybe, I shouldn't test her like this_.

Maybe it's not worth it. I don't even know why I allowed this girl to test my buttons like this. I'm usually in so much control of my emotions no matter how far someone pushes me. But fuck it – this girl makes my control fly out the window. Fuck it, this is real, her fear is real. I suddenly want to comfort her.

"It's ok, I've got you. You can do this Ayanda. I know you can." I wrap my arms around her. By the time we reach the top, her sobs have ebbed but still, she's reluctant to walk towards the centre of the bridge that connects the towers.

"You've made it this far Ayanda, see. I got you. I won't let you go, that's a promise babe. I won't let go of you." She snorts as I lead her in slow careful steps across the bridge. I have to admit, the view is dizzying even for me and definitely scary but we make it to the core of the bridge in one peace. The wide city of Johannesburg is displayed in all its beauty, draped in the last remains of the suns glow. This moment, this view, this girl, it's all so fucken magical. Being up here is actually the most exhilarating feeling in the world now that I take it all in. It's all so fucken beautiful but not as beautiful as the woman in my arms. I lean down and whisper in her ear.

"You ok?" She nods but says nothing. "Look around you Ayanda. Look up ok. This is for you."

"For me?" she whispers, voice barely audible. Her small head is still buried in my chest but it slowly rises as she wills herself to steal a look at the dizzying view. She gasps at first, panic reflecting in her eyes and then after a few minutes, I feel her relax next to me, still holding me tightly though.

"This is for you needy girl. This is freedom, the absence of fear."

"Oh Zak, this is...this is so beautiful," she whispers muzzily. Kissing her forehead, I nod.

"This is how much art means to me Ayanda. This is photography. This is painting. This is art. This is for you. This is what I want for you. I want you to let go, trust me and just paint ok." She nods as I say this, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh Zak, I...I'm speechless."

"It's about letting go of the fear Ayanda. Letting go and just knowing that I got you. I won't let you go. It's about, allowing your-self to create. It's about the freedom."

"The freedom to create," she whispers completely getting it and I smile in approval.

"I was a coward before, when I was a young kid. I was a coward Ayanda, in every sense not just with what happened with my family. I didn't have the guts to chase my dreams. My real passions but I want you to know that this is what it all comes down to, the freedom and overcoming our greatest fears and seeing the beauty of what lies ahead. You're my muse Ayanda. You make me want to be that free kid with a camera again."

I have no idea where all this revelation and wisdom is coming from but, I'm glad for it because I'm rewarded with one of Ayanda's most heavenly smiles. Hopefully I've redeemed myself in her eyes. For a long while she doesn't say anything. She simply rests her head against my chest. _This is freedom_. We watch the sun set 33-storeys up high. In my mind, I'm capturing it all. I'm capturing her, how she looks right now, the view and how enticing it is. In my mind - all is well. I move my hands away from her back and she panics.

"Don't let go of me," she says, almost screaming it out.

"I've got you, don't worry ok. I won't let go." To affirm my words, I drape my arms around her a little more tightly, squeezing her to me, burying her small frame against mine like we're one. We stand up here enjoying the quiet calm for a long while before her voice breaks the silence in a low whisper.

"I just wish - I wish I knew what my true passions are, like a clear sign from God. I wish I was as sure of what it is for me as you are Zak." I tighten my arms around her again, enjoying the loud thudding of her heartbeat and soft breasts against, my hard chest.

"What do you want Ayanda because deep down inside, you know what you want." She shrugs and lets out a loud yawn. My one hand comes up, covering her lips as she yawns and she laughs.

"I wish I could go somewhere Zak." She laughs again. This time, it's not a humorous kind, there's a sadness lurking behind it. "Somewhere, like where?" I ask. She's talking in riddles but I don't mind, I'm just glad that she's finally relaxed. She looks up at me, her big brown eyes full of wonder as if, she hasn't really thought about where she actually wants to go. She looks into me for a long time with an aloofness that has me mimicking her smile. If I didn't know any better I'd say she'd been smoking a whole lot of weed. As if reading my thoughts, with a gawking smile, she shakes her head.

"I don't know where I want to go, I just wish I could go, you know."

"Ok, well. What would you do once you get to that somewhere that you want to go to that you don't know?" I ask. Her smile widens in a daze. This girl is fucken adorable. Her smile will kill me and set me alight all at the same time.

"I would -" She pauses and yawns again. Shame, I think she's tired. "I would get an Oreo Mcflurry ice-cream and then I'd paint and paint and paint," she confesses, letting her eyes close as if imagining it already. This girl is a beauty, especially when she allows herself to be free and taken away like this. I desperately want to kiss her. I want to feel the softness of those tempting lips but I don't do it though. I simply rest my forehead against hers, something that I think she always appreciates because every time I do it, I feel her body melt into mine. I feel her trusting me with her space. The simple gestures - she always appreciates the simple gestures, because all in all, she's just a simple girl, a simple girl who loves art as much as I do.

"Well, how about we go somewhere then and get that Oreo Mcflurry that you want so badly, maybe even dinner? I'm starving and we both got to eat right?" I suggest. Her head falls back in laughter. The sight of her exposed little neck makes me want to lick away at the soft flesh along her pulse. Fuck. I can't help it - I want this girl.

"I'd like that," she says and then she frowns, stepping away from me. And just like that, the care free spirit in her eyes is gone. I can tell that I'm not going to like what she has to say next.

"Can we just get take out instead, Khaya is waiting for me at home." My brain is screaming at the sound of those words. This girl – this girl doesn't belong to me. I have no business taking her out to dinner yet along, standing here and holding her the way that I was. My body doesn't seem to get the picture though. I'm hungrier for her touch than I am for food actually. At war with myself, I take her hand and lead her away. Well – fuck this moment.

***

We get take out from Chaf Pozi, their special classic Soweto experience barbecue meal made up of meat, pap and gravy. Ayanda doesn't say much as I drive her back to her apartment, she just stares out the window and sings along to the Cold Play music I have playing in the car. I'm grateful for the lack of conversation between us because my brain is exhausted from all the overthinking I've been doing - mostly about all that she said to me earlier.

_Your mother is sick all the time Zak and Khaya is in and out of hospital_. Those words are haunting me like ghost stories, pun intended. I want to ask her so badly what exactly she meant by them, even though it's all really self- explanatory. I need to know. I just really need to know.

_What does she know that I don't about my own family?_ I should really just ask her about it, I mean it's so simple but I choose not to, at least not yet. I'm still enjoying the feeling of driving with her with the sound of Chris Martin's voice filling the silence along with her pleasant voice singing along to Viva la Vida.

An hour later, I pull up outside her apartment and awkwardly walk her to her door. I stall behind her as she fiddles in her bag looking for her keys. She's clasping the packet of food on one hand while trying to unlock the door. I try to take the packet from her but she's not having it. "I'll manage," she says and when she finally gets the door open - I stop her. I take a hold of the hand she has on the door handle and lead her back out to the passage. I make sure to close the door again before I release her. She looks at me - obviously confused. But I just - I have to know.

"What did you mean earlier?" I begin but can't find the strength to continue when she nods innocently. I clear my dry throat and swallow hard.

"What did you mean earlier when you said something about Khaya being in and out of hospital?" _Damn, why was that so hard for me to say?_ She looks away from me but not before I see how uncomfortable she is. I keep my eyes on her in that way that I do to my business associates when I want to intimidate them. My stern gaze seems to be working on Ayanda because her discomfort is disturbing.

"Zak, I'm sorry, you were right, this has nothing to do with me. It's not in my place to judge you or question you about your family and your decisions."

"Why did you get involved in the first place Ayanda? Why are you interfering?" I can tell she's fighting to keep herself at bay but I'm not backing down.

"Let's not ruin this," she waves her hand between us. "I had a good time up at the towers, let's not ruin this."

"Why would you suddenly not want to tell me what's up," I whisper. She refocuses her gaze on me and I see so much truth in her eyes, pleading with me to drop this but I shake my head. "You have no idea what's going on do you Zak?"

"Enlighten me,"

She says nothing now, she simply begs me with her eyes to let this go. Not. Gonna. Happen.

"Ayanda?" I yell. Fuck. I don't care who can hear me at this point. I'm just so annoyed. The door to Ayanda's apartment opens slightly and Ashley sticks her head out. Her pale blue eyes are staring at us – staring at me to be exact in a very suspicious way that makes me kind of uncomfortable. She quickly recovers though and then turns her attention to Ayanda, who looks as impassive as a person can pretend to be.

"Aya, What are doing out here?" Ashley asks. Her eyes turn to me again and implore me from head to toe in that way that lets me know she still thinks I'm filth. Ayanda looks from me to her friend and then back at me again.

"That work thing that I told you about, remember?" Ayanda says to Ashley, looking at me and hoping that I'll play along - which I do because technically she's not really lying.

"Oh Aya," Ashley breathes, raising her snooty head to disregard me. "I know a guy in HR at the firm that can get you a proper job," the blonde says in an arrogant tone _. Fuck this girl_. She sounds like one of those dumb blondes from the movie white chicks - although I know that's not the case when it comes to her. She's as smart as they come. She knows I'm an asshole kind of guy. She knows that I'm bad news, so that makes her smart in my books. Ayanda and I both don't budge though. We give her the silent treatment.

"It's late Aya, almost nine, what could you guys possibly still be working on? It's, way after hours," Ashley continues when the silence stretches. I turn to her and give her my best damning look. This girl is so fucken annoying, it's not even funny. I check my watch impatiently and then sigh. After a few akward beats, Ashley then heads back inside and slams the door shut at us. Ayanda squeezes her eyes, leaning against the wall in exhausted panic. I can see she's annoyed as hell by this conversation but still, I try one more time to get through to her.

"Why are you suddenly so coy about sharing information with me, you're the one that wanted to bring out all the monsters from my closet earlier, remember," I argue. Ayanda opens her eyes and pleads with me. Again \- I almost feel sorry for her, almost because she looks so fucken adorable but I won't allow myself to be fooled by her innocent eyes and angelic face – not anymore. This is the 21st century, every man should know better than to let a girl off the hook just because she's heavenly beautiful.

"Talk to me Ayanda."

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry Zak. This is between you and your brother."

"Dammit, Ayanda, why can't you just tell me?" I yell again.

"Ever heard of loyalty? I can't tell you because Khaya is my friend, I can't do that to him. He's my friend Zak...my best friend. He's more than just my friend, he's my..." she pauses and I see right through her. She's reluctant about admitting whatever it is they have going on. "You can't even say it, can you?" I shake my head in amusement. She avoids my gaze but I reach down and tug her chin towards me, forcing her to look at me and when she does, it's like all logic goes to sleep. I shift my body closer to hers, trapping her against the wall with my weight. Her lips quiver and then her voice a mere whisper, "Khaya and I are together now Zak, you know that and please...please respect that." She doesn't even realize how much her body is already responding to me, telling me everything that I need to hear her say because she's leaning in to me.

Without thinking, I brush my lips against hers – soft - just enough to get a reaction from her which I do because she moans, despite herself. Her body is such a traitor. I am completely, utterly turned on by her panting but I try my best not to lose my senses. This is my game. This is about me proving a point to her for her sake and my poor brother's sake. Her lips are soft on mine and shaky but I can tell she's trying her best to keep herself at bay. As I kiss her, I try to convince myself that this is about Khaya whose obviously very in-love with her and all her unintentional bullshit ways, nothing more. I want to prove to myself and to her that she's bullshitting me with her lies.

She – Is – Not – Into – My – Brother.

I just need to hear her say it. I pull my lips away from hers and stare at her. It was a quick peck but I can tell she's affected. There's so much longing in her eyes even as they flutter, opening and closing in a pattern.

"Zak," she murmurs hoarsely. Looking at her now, how beautiful she looks with her long lashes shielding her eyes and her head resting against the wall - I suddenly feel very envious of my brother whether she likes him or not. I'm a jealous fool, simply because in a way - he actually has her. She is his, but right now, I want to make her mine. Just for this moment. My hands come up to her smooth cheeks and linger there in a caress.

"Why does it feel so good to touch you Ayanda?" I whisper. She opens her eyes at the sound of my voice and looks into me in that way that traps me and makes me feel very exposed and vulnerable like I'm on a Ferris wheel without a seatbelt on. Her hands come up to clasp my shirt pulling me closer? _Shit_. I think I'm losing the war. I fall into her willingly and she clings to me.

"You know that I love Khaya," she says vaguely and somehow, I believe her. I know that she loves my brother. They've known each other since they were kids for God's sake so that's very expected. I lean down until we're a breath apart again.

"You love him?" I ask but it's not really a question. She nods but keeps her eyes on mine the whole time in a desperate longing gaze. I'm like a man possessed by some unknown pull of energy seaming me to her. My whole body comes alight for her. I want this girl and I don't care if she supposedly loves my brother. I want her and I want her to tell me that she wants me too. I want her to say it, just once. I need it. I crave it. I want her to tell me what her body's telling me. I want her to tell me what I see in her eyes. I want her to tell me that there's no way in hell she wants my brother in the same way that I know she wants me. I want her to want me. I need her to want me. She loves my brother but I know that she wants me.

"What do you want Ayanda?" I breathe, my one hand snaking around her waist, crushing her towards me. I want to feel every inch of her body pressed against mine.

"Zak, please. What are you - what are you doing to me?" she stutters and holds on to my shirt like she's afraid she'll fall over or sink like she's walking on quick sand.

_What am I doing to her? Shit_. I could ask myself the same thing. I brush my lips against hers again in a tease and she gasps - oh so sweetly. Her next move makes my head explode. She launches herself at me. The packet of food she was holding comes falling down open on the floor but we both don't care much for the spilled food, so go figure.

Our lips meet ravenously and she's kissing me back with everything she's got. I feel like the King of the universe when she rests her arms around my neck, burying her whole frame into me. My hands are everywhere until we find a rhythm. She's small and vulnerable against my weight and the wall but I have a firm grip on her.

We're kissing - tongue with tongue and teeth clattering, shared breaths and all. I've forgotten exactly what it is I am trying to prove or what info I was trying to get about Khaya's well being. _Shit_. I forget everything. It's only her now – she is mine, at least for this moment. She moans for me when my kisses drift to her neck in slow motions. I linger at the sensitive base along her pulse. I've been fantasizing about doing this to her ever since the rooftop, kiss and now it's finally happening. She's making incoherent sounds from her throat - enticing sounds that are driving me crazy.

She's moaning for me.

I go on like a man possessed, with my tongue slowly grazing her skin. She lets out a sound and tries to stifle it. She sucks in a breath, desperate to find her voice but fails when I continue to devour her neck and the soft exposed flesh of her barely there cleavage that somehow - is working its womanly magic on me.

"Zak, please. Don't," she cries. My name from her lips sounds amazing but there's only one thing I want to hear more coming from her. "Tell me you don't want him. Say it for me ok," I whisper.

"I don't ok." She begins but pauses to suck in a breath. I look down at her and even though she's dazed and looks drugged, I also see the conviction she's in. "I don't want him Zak, you're right ok. I don't want him like that." She stifles a sob and then puts some distance between us. I'm all kinds of frustrated right now, at myself for making her feel like this and at the fact that I still want her so badly despite the war I see in her eyes.

Get a grip Zak. Get a fucken grip.

Despite the situation I still only want one thing from her – the truth, so like a douchebag I go ahead and ask her. "Do you want me?" She's taken aback for a second, punishing her bottom lip in between her teeth. I invade her again, trapping her face in my hands. Looking at her, my grip softens and she buries her face in the crook of my neck, breathing heavily for a minute or so, while I plant soft kisses on the top of her head. I know she wants me but I want her to say it.

"Do you want me Ayanda?"

"Yes," her voice is hoarse and full of anxiety but it's enough for me. I'm not gentle now as I press her towards me, letting her feel the magnitude of how badly I want her.

Destiny though doesn't seem to want her to be mine because as we are lost in the moment, a sound of footsteps from afar jolts us. Khaya's voice makes Ayanda jump away from my grasp like she's a frog in a boiling pot. I'm left wondering how the hell I'm going to get myself out of this literally hard situation I'm in this very second.

"You guys do realize that there's a packet of spilled food on the floor right?" Khaya says, fast approaching, two steps at a time up the stairs. I wave at him awkwardly and then turn to Ayanda; she's the queen of panic as she fiddles with her clothes. She looks - hand in the jar guilty. For her sake, I try to compose myself and get a hold of the situation but Khaya beats me to it.

"I hope you haven't been working my girl too hard Zak, she looks tired. You look tired my love," he continues and crosses to Ayanda. Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her palm. She tries to laugh but fails. Concern constructs itself on Khaya's face and guilt washes over me three hundred fold. Khaya turns to me but I'm impassive. _Damn_. I'm not about to expose myself out here on the corridor and I most certainly am not about to cause my brother pain over a moment of weakness on my side. Yes - that's right. A moment of weakness is all that this was just now between Ayanda and me - a stupid moment of weakness. The flesh is weak.

I need to stay away from this girl. She makes me feel weak and that's not a position I ever want to find myself in again.

"Are you ok, my love?" Khaya says and wraps his arms around Ayanda. She trembles in his embrace and I frown at her. I get angry just looking at them. I can't stand to see her with him. Khaya strokes her cheeks and she looks up at him, pure dread in her eyes.

"What's wrong baby?" he asks. There's so much concern and emotion in his voice that Ayanda loses her composure. _Fuck_. This girl is all kinds of emotional and I somehow I hate seeing her like this. I'd take her smile over those tears any day. I feel like shit because I know that I'm responsible for all this crap.

"I'm just so happy to see you," she says to him and I want to puke with jealousy.

Khaya kisses her, it's a simple "hi, haven't seen you all day kind of kiss" but it rubs me off the wrong way. I can't take it anymore. I have to get away from here and never ever come back. I hate these strange feelings creeping into me lately. They make me feel powerless and weak.

"I have to go." I tell them. I can already see Khaya's going to protest but I don't wait. I'm already making my way down the stairs when Khaya calls after me. He says something to me as I dash out but I don't hear him. I'm not here anymore, my mind is far away by the time I approach my car in the parking lot. I'm fuming inside - things are out of control and I don't like it not one bit.

I don't know what or whom I'm angry at the most - Khaya for being affectionate towards his girl in front of me, Ayanda for affecting me so much with this strange attraction between us that I don't understand or myself for being such an asshole. I don't really know. _It's all so fucked up_. Frustrated, I kick at the tire of my car like I'm Iron man and regret it as a sharp pain travels down through to my toes and foot.

The rush of the pain pierces through me - I needed to feel it. I needed to punish myself for being such a jerk and the worst brother in the world. I open the door to my Range and hop inside. _Shit._ My foot is throbbing and throbbing and throbbing all the way home. I'm the biggest fool in the world right now. A big, fucken fool.

Chapter 13

Aya

It's just after ten in the evening. I'm lying on my back when Khaya hovers up over me, resting his weight on his elbows. He looks down at me. Beaming with so much love it's unsettling. I feel like my heart's going to detonate from all the crazy bombs going off inside of me in an internal war, just looking at him. There are no colours now, only midnight black.

"We still have about an hour or so before I have to leave?" he says. His breath is playing across the thin material of my night dress and I'm very aware of what's about to happen between us. He wants to make out, or at least I hope that's about as far as he wants to take it. Yep – no colours, only dark shadows of mist creeping up in my vision. Khaya starts kissing on me. First, he plants a peck on my lips and then a trail of kisses down my neck and chest. I'm all tingly inside but my heart is not in it, there's too much smoke blurring my soul. Panic making its way into the pit of my stomach. I breathe in a lungful of air as he continues to kiss me. He is gentle and patient and kind, the complete opposite of what his brother was doing to me earlier. It all starts to feel like it is Zak on top of me, kissing me in that way of his that overwhelms me and makes me completely unaware of anything but the feel of his invasion. _Shit_. I berate myself for thinking about Zak when it should be Khaya on my mind.

I've managed to keep Zak away from my thoughts throughout supper when Ashley, Khaya and I sat in the kitchen and devoured three whole boxes of cold pizza due to load shedding. I then took a long cold shower to wash off the colour, the suffocating, beautiful heat of Zak's kisses _. Damn him_. The guy is like a wild flame and I keep letting him burn me. It's like I crave the fire we make.

"Ayanda, you're a beauty," Khaya whispers completely unaware of my distractions. His sweet words hit me like a bullet in the chest although my soul feels like cotton – fragile. I break – a fresh single tear falling down my face.

"Don't cry baby," Khaya says humorously like he's talking to a child. He continues to whisper some affectionate words to me but I don't hear him or care much for what he's doing to me at all too. I just really need to cry. I need to sink deep into the ocean of my tears and not come back up for air – just for a while. Like a building being met by a massive wrecking ball, I allow myself to feel what I'm feeling – I cry. So many things race through my mind all at once making my head ache. I'm going under.

_You're a terrible person Ayanda._ My sub conscious is screaming at me with all she's got. Frustrated, I pull Khaya away from me with all the strength that my weak body can handle. I scramble off the bed and hold my hand to my chest, trying desperately to suppress my sobs. Khaya is frozen for a while, on his knees, on the bed, battling his hardest to make sense of the situation, which is really not fair to him at all. He watches me, face completely ashen.

"I'm sorry Aya, am I moving too fast?" Khaya asks. When I fail to answer, he gets up from the bed, crosses to me and looks at me with concern. His fingers are shaking as he reaches out to me, as if silently asking for permission to touch me. He's slipping, I know he's slipping...going, going and then he snaps. Curling his shaking fingers into a ball, he bangs his fists against his head in a pattern of, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom accelartively – fast and then slow.

"I'm sorry Ayanda. Tell me what I did, Is it me - Is it because of my condition?" His voice is hoarse, full of fear. God no, this is too much for me now. When he starts blaming himself like this, I swear I'll lose it. I shake my head desperately, not trusting myself to speak yet. I've seen him do this before, when he feels like he did something wrong, this is what he does. He tries to punish himself. He keeps banging his fists against his head and the force of it looks painful. I attended a psychotherapy session with him a couple years back and the mental health professional told me to employ an intergrative approach because there is a strong pull of trust between Khaya and me. It never made sense before but after going through five years of psychology at Wits, I now know that intergrative psychotherapy is the process of intergrating the personality of a person to help though an attack. I know Khaya and therefore I know that he is naturally very hard on himelf. The only way to help him out of this is to make him understand that he did nothing wrong. Re-affirm who is to him. He cups my face and wipes at my tears with his thumb.

"This is not about you. God Khaya, no, it's not you or your condition, I promise you. You have to believe me. I love you. I love you just the way you are. It's never been about your condition, you know that." I reach up to touch his face. His eyes close at my touch and when he opens them again, I want to burst from the pain I see in them.

"I'm HIV positive Ayanda. It's ok - It's ok if that scares you a little. I completely understand."

"I know you're HIV positive Khaya. I've always known and it's never been a concern for me. It doesn't change the person you are inside. This is not what this is about, I assure you."

"Then what the hell is it about Ayanda? Because I'm trying here – I'm trying to understand you but lately, it seems like you're far, like I'm losing you somehow." His raspy voice reaches the ceiling as he yells and I don't even blame him. My detonated heart is beating uncontrollably in my chest. It frightens me how easy it's become to lie to Khaya these days, when our friendship was never based on lies. That's just not how we do things. I would always tell him everything, no matter how bad and he would do the same. That day when he found out he was HIV positive, he told me straight away even though he was having an attack. It was hard for him but he told me unashamed because truth and honesty have always been the roots of our friendship. Our friendship is pure, like a white light.

Now, here I am, lying to him like it's the easiest thing in the world. Khaya's emotions are like a spiral so I have to tread carefully with him being bipolar and all. That's why our friendship has always been truthful because of his bipolar. I know better than to play with his emotions. Lately though, it seems as if, that is all I've been doing, playing with his emotions and it makes me feel like shit.

"It's me ok. I'm not ready to go there. I told you we should take things slow and I'm not really feeling well Khaya lately. I think I'm coming down with something."

Silence strecthes. Khaya doesn't say anything for a long time but I see him coming back to me. I see him floating back to the room. Eventually, he simply takes me into his arms and hugs me. It's a friendship hug \- that kind that lets me know that we are ok and that, no matter what, he will always be my friend first, sick or not and that we will always be ok.

"You know it is safe right," he says. I look up at him knowing exactly what he means but choosing to act confused.

"It is safe for a person with HIV to have sex with someone who's clean. We just have to use protection and it has to be at a time when my CD4 count is high," he breathes. I nod and force a smile because I know how hard that must have been for him to tell me.

He kisses my temple and looks at me with tired but desperate eyes. "I'll book an appointment with my doctor. We can go together and talk to him, tell him that we are ready to be intimate and that we'd like his advice on playing it safe," he suggests, beaming at me from ear to ear. It amazes me how quickly he's switched on his happy side. I nod but do a really terrible job at hiding my fear and concern. _Am I ready?_ _Am I ready to be intimate – with him?_ Geez, I don't even know.

"A doctor's appointment...won't that be very expensive?" I say, trying desperately to get out of this. I don't know how I'd survive an hour long doctor's appointment with Khaya, talking to his doctor about sex. My comment doesn't seem to deteriote Khaya's sudden excitement though. He's got this viral glow in his eyes now.

"I've been saving some cash, but you're right, it is kind of expensive especially with all the tuition fees I've been paying," Khaya admits. I don't say anything because well, I don't know what to say at this point. Psych 101 has clearly gone out the door. I'm just so exhausted and overwhelmed with fear about the rollercoaster ride that is my life nowadays. I'm also freaking out about the attack Khaya almost had just a few minutes ago. Khaya leads me back towards the bed and I let him hold me, tightly, gently, soothingly. We sit on the edge and stare at our reflections in the mirror opposite us. Evetually, Khaya's face constructs itself into a gimmick, eyes wide, cheeks puffed, then he sticks his tongue out – roleplaying funny faces in the mirror – hoping to make me laugh and I do, just to enlighten him. Smiling, he takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips, kissing my palm. "Love you Aya," he whispers, practically groping me and I don't say anything, I just look at him, knowing, that he knows, I feel the same. Sometimes I feel like I'm that loose screw in his head that makes him go off the rails. Every time he's had an attack, I was linked somehow. I was always linked and somehow, this is frightening for me. Maybe Zak was right – maybe I'm too involved. Maybe I should put some distance between Khaya and I, for his own well being. Maybe I should just hand him over to his brother. But how can Zak help if he doesn't even know what's going on, if he doesn't even know the root of Khaya's instability.

"Don't you think that he deserves to know?" I stutter, before I even realize what I'm saying. Khaya's gaze meets mine lazily in confusion.

His words come out in a laugh, "who and what?"

"Zak...don't you think you should tell him, about, you know - your condition?"

Khaya gets up and looks at me through the mirror, exasperated. "Well, geez Ayanda, how do you reckon I go about this ha? Like Hey, guess what? I'm HIV positive?" He makes it come out light but I know that it's not. I know how much this rips him apart inside.

"Just tell him the truth Khaya. It's not like it's your fault. You didnt know that was your mothers needle that day. You thought it was your medication. It was an accident...an unfortunate one," I argue because there's no other way to put it. That's what happened that day and Zak deserves to know.

"Ayanda," Khaya barks, with a, finality in his voice that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Then he shakes his head, trying desperately not to freak out on me. I can almost see him mentally counting to ten in his head. "My brother doesn't deserve to know a damn thing about this family. He...he lost that privilege years ago."

Relenting, I move away from the bed. I don't need this shit anymore - so realizing my place, I do what's necessary – I apologize.

"I'm sorry ok. I'm only trying to help."

"I know my love but I've got this under control." Pulling me back, he kisses the top of my head and sighs. "You know I'd never hurt you right?" he whispers and I nod, feeling rather hurt already as it is. We make our way back to the bed and remain there, spooning in silence until I doze off.

***

Over the next week, the night has become an event I look forward to simply because I get to sleep out my misery. I've been sleeping passed daylight and waking up at noon on most days this week. Every night it's been the same, Khaya comes over at around seven when he gets off varsity, we hang out, make out, and I try not to make him angry until I fall asleep and then he leaves before midnight to clock in for his night shift at work.

Ashley has been working early mornings and late evenings, so she hasn't noticed my moping lately but today she's off and I'm half asleep when she comes strolling into my room. It's a Friday afternoon just after one and I'm still in my pyjamas, lying in bed half asleep but slowly coming out of it when her loud voice fills my ears.

"Something tells me, this is all you do lately?" she says. I cover my head with the blanket and yawn. "I leave you sleeping when I go to work only to come back and find you've just woken up, hardly had a bath and still in your bloody pyjamas." Grabbing the blanket away from my now shivering flesh, she throws it in a pile on the floor.

"Ash," I squeal. Laying a hard fist down onto my pillow, I force myself to get up to a sitting position on the bed with my knees raised.

"What's your problem?"

"What's my problem? Well, how about, geez, my friend is slowly slipping away from me with each new day." She crosses to the window and opens the drapes, the light rays of the autumn sun sliver through the room, making Ashley look fresh-coloured like a golden princess wearing a crown, blinding me till I squeeze my eyes shut.

"I've just about had enough of your moping," she yells. She has a point. I've been moping lately but I'll be damned if I admit it to her. Like a foolish girl, I've been sulking but with good reason though. Khaya has been putting pressure on me to go to this damn doctor's appointment with him so we can discuss all things "sex," because he just can't wait to be intimate with me – apparently. So, like a coward, I've been avoiding it at all costs, even pretending to be coming down with a cold. To make matters worse, Zak has been ignoring me ever since our little incident outside the apartment in the passage on Monday. He's been quiet. Zilch, not a single word, phone call or a text and it's driving me crazy. It's driving me insane because, I want to know if he's been as miserable as I have.

I want to know if he's as affected and disturbed about all this crap between us as I am. I want to know if he's sexually frustrated. I want to know if he's been sleeping well at night or not because I surely haven't. But most of all - I just want to know if he's ok. I want to know how his week is going and dammit, I miss him. That's the peak of the problem, the real reason I've been sulking like a sick child - I miss Zak. There - I said it. I miss him like crazy and he doesn't seem to give a shit. I don't even notice the single tear finding its way down my cheek until Ashley wipes it away.

"Talk to me Aya, I'm really worried about you." She takes a seat next to me. I can't even look at her now as she speaks because her eyes tell me all that I need to know.

"Don't tell me this is about that guy Aya. I told you he's no good for you. Forget about him already."

"This is not about Zak." I lie but Ashley's not convinced of course because she knows me like I know painting.

"You think I don't know what's going on," she breathes and shakes her head. "Oh no sweety, I saw you two by the passage on Monday remember? I know what I heard and I've seen the way he looks at you." I close my eyes at her words. I can't even find the right words to justify my actions without looking and feeling stupid.

"You do know that guys like Zak only want one thing right? He's a wham bam, thank you mam kind of guy Aya. This is not going to end well and you know it."

"Ashley I don't know what's happening to me. I don't know why he makes me feel like this. I don't know what to do," I explain.

I don't need her to lecture me right now. I just need a friend but she doesn't seem to be picking that up. She's dead serious and it's making me too uncomfortable to open up to her freely any further and tell her the honest truth. The truth is that I'm nuts about this guy, that he turns me inside out and makes my heart race. He makes the blood in my veins flow freely, like he's locked in my veins. I've never had a guy affect me so much. It scares the life out of me. "Stay away from Zak, for your sake and Khaya's." Ashley practically commands it.

"He's already done that all on his own Ash." I don't even hide the disappointment from my voice. Ashley shakes her head in bewilderment and then takes my hand. Her eyes soften just a little now, the colour of her pupils blending from pale blue to a deep indigo.

"I hope you're not falling in love with him Aya." She places a kiss on my cheek.

_Shit, am I?_ I've never been in love before, obviously because I've never actually dated anyone. Ok, only Khaya - well sort of since it's all still so new and strange but Khaya doesn't count because I've always loved him. Even if we only remained friends like we have been for years, I would still love him. I can't be in love with Zak, that's just not possible because I love Khaya. "I love Khaya." I say this out loud even though, I didn't intend to. Ashley gives me a look and I know she's about to say something real smart but stops herself instead, giving me a long hug instead. I'm so confused that I don't know what to make of what she's said.

Am I in love with Zak?

Surely it takes more than just a few stolen kisses to fall in love with a man right?

"You need to sort yourself out Ayanda and I don't just mean in terms of the men in your life. I mean life in general sweetie," she murmurs. "You can't hide away from the world when you screw up once in a while like we all do because, you're only human. You can't hide away from your problems and think it's not all going to catch up with you one day," she adds. Indigo Ashley, I love it when she goes all ice-cold blue harsh on me. All, that she's said, it really hits home.

Her words are the smartest thing I've ever heard her say but also the hardest for me to hear coming from her. It hurts like hell but I know she's right. I think, ever since I dropped out of varsity, we've switched roles me and her. I used to be the smart one. I was always the smart one and the most talented one between the two of us. I'm good academically and creatively. I'm the type that would study the day before for tests and exams and still pass. Ashley was always the hard working one as much as she is wild. Being, blonde and as beautiful as she is has always made people stereotype her as nothing but a bombshell, which she sees as a curse and a blessing because she enjoys the attention but also wants to prove that she's actually got brains and not just boobs.

"I know. I just wish I knew how to sort myself out," I breathe.

There's an undertone to all that Ashley's said. She's basically telling me in not so many words that she's tired of me being out here doing nothing. I need to get a job. I need to stop bullshitting Khaya. I need to be honest with myself and I need to be honest with my family.

"You'll be ok Aya, you'll see." Ashley says, getting up to leave.

"I'm going to see my parents later on today. I think I'll spend the whole weekend with them," I tell her. She nods approvingly.

"Want me to drop you off?" she offers. _Geez, what did I do to deserve such an amazing friend?_

"I'd like that. Thank you Ash, for everything, I mean it. Thanks a lot." She nods and winks at me. After a quick shower, I dress in denim shorts and a pink blouse, leaving my hair out in a mass of overly blow dried curls. I spend the rest of the afternoon getting ready for my surprise trip to Soweto to see the family, back at home. I pack a weekend bag and head into the living room for a quick snack before I have to leave with Ashley. She's dressed and ready in a short jumpsuit when I join her in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" she asks. I sigh and take a seat on one of the high stools next to the counter.

"I'm going to tell them Ash," I breathe. "I'm going to tell them about varsity, that I dropped out," I say. Ashley gives me a knowing look but doesn't get a chance to reply because of the knock on the door. I walk lazily to the door and open it. I'm greeted by a senior looking old man with greying hair and a full white beard. I'm guessing he's probably in his late forties. He's regarding me with a bright smile on his old face. His smile is so warm and welcoming, it's reflecting even in his beautiful hazel eyes.

"Good evening Mam. I am Mr Haans Petersen from Travel Swiss chauffeurs. I'm looking for a Miss. Ayanda Miya?" he says politely.

Travel Swiss Chauffeurs.

Frowning, I regard him in confusion. "I'm sorry, there must be a misunderstanding Mr Petersen."

He raises a thick white brow at me, shaking his head. "Are you Miss. Miya?" he asks. I nod as Ashley comes to stand next to me, leaning on the door with questioning eyes.

"I'm at your services mam." _Shit, what the hell is going on?_

"You know this old man?" Ashley asks in disbelief. I give her a look and frown, turning my gaze back to the old man. He takes out a file and goes through some papers quickly before his hazel gaze implores me again.

"Your driving lessons will be on Tuesdays and Thursdays for about an hour and then on Mondays and Wednesdays you will be expected to do promotional things like interviews and public appearances. Fridays throughout Sunday, will be events and anything else that you choose to do. I will take you wherever you want to go. I am at your services Miss. Miya," he informs me.

Ashley's jaw drops and I'm so shocked, I giggle. I don't know how to react but from the sick feeling of panic in my belly, something tells me, this shit has Red written all over it. My smile vanishes. Annoyed, I grab my bag from the counter and get ready to leave.

"Listen here, with all due respect Mr Petersen, I'm in a hurry. Can we talk about this some other time?" I argue irritably. Mr Petersen shakes his head apologetically.

"I work for Mr Nkosi. He's instructed me to be your personal driver throughout the duration that you will be working for him and until you get your driver's license."

_Dammit_. I knew it was red. If I could, I would throw my hand bag at this old man but he looks so damn serious, astute and sweet all at the same time. I don't have the heart to be rude to him, I just don't. The person that should be facing my wrath is Zak. One - he didn't inform me about this and two, he's been ignoring me so forgive me for assuming our working arrangement was off.

"Well - you can tell Mr Nkosi that, I have zero interest in working for him and that he can keep his damn personal driver services too." Feeling very proud of myself for standing my ground, I veer away down the passage. Ashley catches up to me and jabs me on the shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous Aya. Don't let your personal issues with Zak make you miss out on an amazing opportunity. Do you have any idea what this could do for you? A license, a job, Aya what more could a girl ask for."

_I can't believe this girl_. Just a few hours ago, she was the one telling me to stay away from the likes of Zak and she even told me not to work for the man. Ignoring her, I turn my focus back on the old man.

"You can take me anywhere I want to go?" He nods adamantly, a ghost of a smile playing on his face. Although I'm pissed, I have an instant like for this man whom I've known only for a few awkward minutes - there's something genuine about him.

"Anywhere, Miss Miya," he assures me.

"Aya, come on," Ashley cuts in. "Don't be like that. I tell you what, let's just go out and have some fun ok. We both deserve it," she squeals, holding her hands together in front of her chest like a kid anticipating adventure. This is so typical of her to put her own sudden needs and plans ahead of mine.

"No Ash," I yell. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I need to have a word with Zak and you know Ashley, you surprise me. I thought you hated Zak and besides that, you know that I have to see my parents tonight." Flabbergasted, I grab my weekend bag and head out down the stairs.

"You coming or what," I yell out to the old man when he stands by the passage like an idiot regarding me in confusion. "Of course mam," he stutters, jolting away from Ashley's outstretched hands.

"Aya, I'm so sorry," I hear her say but I ignore her. I continue down the stairs and then towards the parking. My heart leaps out when I see a beautiful white Mercedes C 63 AMG parked next to Ashley's red mini cooper.

I'm an unblinking ball of nerves as Mr Petersen approaches me in quick steps. He's quite fit for an old man - strong shoulders and a tall frame. He opens the passenger door for me and intimates for me to climb inside this brand new car. I'm unmoving for a beat. This is all so overwhelming.

_What do I do? What do I do?_ The logical thing would be to call Zak but the thought adds to my discomfort. Call him and then say what? Thank him? No, I can't do that. It would only make his ego take off to a whole new level.

Call him and tell him to fuck off? Now that would give me joy but I have to see my parents. That's the goal today. All I want is my dad's comforting arms around me, telling me that everything is going to be ok, or my mother's home cooked meals and Jabu's over-protective presence. I need that. I need them. I miss my family.

_Fuck Zak._ He can wait. He's probably expecting my call but I'll make him sweat it out a little. He can bloody wait, all weekend if it gets to that. He can bloody wait just like he's made me wait throughout this miserable week. I hop into the passenger seat of the Mercedes and revel at the beauty of the machine. It's a beauty like no other, the slick caramel leather seats and spotless clean dashboard. _Shit_. Everything looks brand new.

"Where to, Miss Miya?" Mr Petersen's voice jerks me as I fasten my seat belt.

"Diepkloof." It feels weird having someone call me "Miss Miya." The old man looks at me in confusion as he starts the ignition. I raise a brow at him, "Diepkloof. It's a township in Soweto sir," I explain. Mr Haans relaxes, winks at me and then we drive off in silence. We drive for an hour before we reach Soweto. I'm nervous about rocking up at home in a bloody Mercedes and not just any Mercedes, the latest.

_What will people think?_ Now that we are in Soweto, I direct my new driver to my family home within minutes. He pulls up outside my parent's house and parks by the pavement, regarding me patiently. "So what happens now?" I ask him.

"I'll wait for you in the car mam." He says it like it's a no brainer. This doesn't sit well with me though. "But, I'm staying here for the whole weekend," I explain. He contemplates this as if he wasn't expecting me to say that.

"But, Miss Miya, Don't you want to visit Mr Nkosi?" He asks this innocently but I can't help feeling set up. Zak obviously wants me to go to him tonight otherwise why else would this old man say something so foolish. I turn to him, trying to read his expression. He's as impassive and as stiff as an old man can be.

"Is Mr Nkosi expecting me?" I ask. The old man coughs uncomfortably and I have my answer. Zak is expecting me to come running to him tonight like a damsel in distress.

For what, I don't know because his radio silence throughout this whole week has led me to think that he wants nothing to do with me.

"A fucken bloody Mercedes won't impress me Zak," I murmur out loud like a woman scorned. Poor Mr Petersen stares out the window awkwardly, but I don't care. I'm just so angry at Zak. How could he do something like this? Getting me a personal driver who already has a schedule of how my days will be spent without even telling me. No. There's no freaken way I'm running to him anytime soon - Definitely not today Zak.

"Mr Nkosi is not expecting you tonight mam. I only talk like this because I heard you say to your friend that you want to have a word with him," the old man says innocently but I don't buy his explanation. Exasperated, I let the whole ordeal slide and step out of the car. Before Mr. Haans drives off, I tap the hood of his car and lean down by his window.

"You work for me, don't you?" I ask, needing to be assured that I have a proper understanding of what's happening here. Mr Petersen nods and then takes out a card from his side pocket.

"I will be close by mam. Somewhere around the area just in case you need me ok," he says and blesses me with a warm genuine smile. _Shit, I like this old man_. As much as I'm pissed at Zak, I can't deny that I really like this old man. I wave at him awkwardly and wait for him to drive off before I open the gate to my parent's house and head inside. This is it. I need to make this weekend count. I need to tell them everything.

I've arrived just in time for supper it seems. My mother is setting up the table when I walk in. I creep up behind her without her noticing and cover her eyes with my hands.

"Guess who?" I squeal, barely holding in my excitement. She immediately starts to cry when I release her, turning her towards me.

"Ayanda, my baby is that really you?" Her old voice is hoarse and full of emotions as she takes me into a warm suffocating hug, squeezing me. My mother is quite strong for an old woman because she's squeezing me in a tight grip.

"It's me, mama," I whisper against her chest. Her shaking hands come up to my face in a light caress. "God has blessed us tonight - with your lovely sweet presence my baby. You have no idea how much we've - we've missed you so much," she says between heavy breaths.

"I've missed you too mama. Where is ubaba and uJabu?" I'd almost forgotten how beautiful my mother is. She still looks so young even though working at this age is adding a few years to her and dark wrinkles to her light brown skin. She has her greying hair in neat cornrows of a hairstyle and is wearing a stylish long summer dress. There's radiance to my mother's beauty, it glows all around her like she's been hibernating next to God.

"Your father is on the phone in the lounge. I think uJabu is still at the hospital but he will be here soon. He's always on time for supper that one," Mama explains as I help her set the table. She's made dad's favourite meal - samp and beans.

"Ayanda is that you?" Dad's deep voice fills the room as he crosses to me with a crooked smile. His arms are outstretched, so I run to his embrace.

"Baba, sayubona," I murmur in Zulu. My dad is your typical traditional Zulu man so I have to greet him in our mother tongue to start us off on good terms. I'm going to drop a bomb on him later on tonight so I need to soften him up. He holds me at arm's length, making a proper observation of me.

"Ntombenhle, ngiyaphila," my dad responds. Thank the heavens he's in a good mood. I can tell because, he's calling me "ntombenhle" which is a Zulu endearment for pretty girl. I breathe in a sigh of relief and smile.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit ntombenhle?" my dad asks. I'm even more convinced that he's in a good mood because he's speaking English - the language of the white man like he would often say.

"I'm well baba. I was just missing you and umama. I also have a lot to discuss with you, something very important that you should know." My dad raises a grey brow at me in that way that makes me scared for my buttocks, like during those days when he would spank me for getting a low grade in primary school.

My dad is a perfectionist. He's a scholar at heart and a true believer in education. I guess it comes from him being a History teacher for over thirty years now. I know I'm asking for my death by choosing to tell him I've dropped out of university but it is what it is. Eventually, a slow smile forms on his face. "What? Is university life not treating you well? It's certainly been keeping you very far from us. What's going on nunu," he says even as his voice breaks. This has been hard for him, I can tell. My mother is just about ready to sob again. She's emotional, naturally just like me. I guess I get that from her.

"I'll explain everything...I..." I'm saved by the sound of Jabu walking into the kitchen. Jabu's dressed in blue scrubs, looking very much like a doctor who is over worked. He makes a study of the scene and then smiles warmly when he sees me. The smile quickly fades when he notices that umama is almost crying.

"Mama, what's wrong? What's going on?" he asks with tired frowning eyes.

"Hey Jabs," I murmur. He nods at me in acknowledgement but raises a questioning brow. He crosses to ma and places a kiss on her cheek. He then comes up to me, sighs and plants a kiss on my temple before taking me into his arms for a long suffocating hug. I hug him back and look up at him. He leans down and whispers for my ears only.

"What have you done little sis?" I don't reply though, I only plead with him, silently asking him to let this go. My dad pats Jabu's shoulder and leads him to the table.

"Jabulani, we have been waiting for you, now can we please eat already." We all burst out in laughter. My dad is a very serious man, so when he says something remotely funny, it's always extra hilarious not because his jokes are funny but because of the way he sounds when he tries to be foolish. We take our seats on the small dinner table \- dad taking the single seat at the head of the table like the King of the castle while, ma takes a seat opposite me on dads left and Jabu sits next to me on the right. Jabu says grace and then we devour the food. We're pretty hungry and you know what they say – black people don't talk when they eat. For a good ten minutes, no one says anything. We just eat in silence. It's mama that breaks the spell and I'm grateful that she doesn't target me first.

"So, how are things at the hospital Jabulani?" mama asks between bites. "The hospital was hectic today ma. I might have to go back later actually."

"You look exhausted Jabs," I put in. "I am but what can I say. People's lives come first in my profession. You'll learn that soon enough once you start practicing as a psychologist," Jabu says and I can't help the nauseating feeling in my stomach.

_I'm never going to be a bloody psychologist_. How the hell do I break this to them in a way that I won't feel like the shittiest person in the world?

"How's that coming along Ayanda?" mama asks and I pretend like I have no idea what she's talking about. "What?" I ask stupidly and get a chuckle out of my mother. Gosh, I've missed her laugh and now here I am, about to bring her to tears again.

"The course dear, how's school. I hope you haven't been over working yourself," she says. "Our daughter is smart. I know she's coping. You are coping right?" dad chips in like a proud father.

Shit, why the hell did I come here again? Oh yeah, to come clean, easier said than done though. My blackberry buzzes and then my favourite One Direction song that Zak apparently finds annoying and gay fills the room. God bless my blackberry, this simple gadget always rings at the right time. I check the caller I.D. reading Khaya and my heart thuds. He usually calls at this time, around seven, when he's done with class to tell me he's coming over. I've never been more grateful for his call. I get up nervously and excuse myself.

"I have to take this," I announce. Walking to the passage, I breathe in a lungful of air before I answer.

"Hey."

"My love, how are you doing? How's your day been?" Khaya says over the line.

"Ok I guess, my days been ok. I'm at my parents place." There's a long pause now.

"What about our date night? I really want to take you out Ayanda. Can you make it? I'll come fetch you."

"I'm sorry, I can't think of that right now. I have to tell them Khaya. It's now or never. I have to tell them about - you know, varsity. You should see them Khaya, ubaba, he's so happy." I'm blabbing. That's how anxious I am.

"Do you want me to come there? I know how hard this must be for you," Khaya offers.

"No, this is something that I have to do on my own but thank you. You should rest Khaya. You've been working night shifts all week. You must be exhausted."

"I am exhausted \- but not too exhausted for you but ok. I'll rest though. I'll see you tomorrow then." _Shit,_ he sounds disappointed but I can't deal with him right now and I genuinely want him to get some rest. He's been bending over backwards balancing school and work lately, so I know just how tired he must be.

"Tomorrow Khaya, I promise we can go out tomorrow ok. Bye and please make sure you get some rest, no late night gaming ok. Promise me." He laughs and then lets out a resonated sigh.

"I promise you baby, no gaming from me. Bye Aya. I love you ok." I hang up at his last words. I can't bear to hear him say he loves me. I feel like I'm not worthy of his love. It all just overwhelms me. I creep my way back to the dinner table and take my seat. Dad is making a joke about one of his students - It's nothing but good vibes, laughter and merriment in this place, I don't have the heart to tear it all apart but I also don't have a choice. I've made up my mind. Tonight is the night. I think of Ashley's smart words earlier. _You need to sort yourself out Aya_. This needs to be done and there's no way to say it then to just say it. I take a deep breath and force the words out of my mouth.

"I dropped out of university." I squeeze my eyes shut as I say this. The noise of the conversation that was taking place ebbs - No more laughing, no more jokes, no more talking as they all turn their wide gazes my way. My heart is beating erratically like a wild drum in my chest. I'm almost convinced this is what it feels like to have a heart attack.

"You did what?" my dad says quietly. It's a quiet tone but I hear the promise of doom in those three unbelieving words. I gather my wits and face the music.

"I dropped out. I couldn't do it anymore dad. I just I couldn't. I was dying inside. It's not who I am." My dad gets up from his chair and it falls to the tiles behind him, in a loud thwack, making me tremble with the force of it.

"I know who you are Ayanda. You are my child," he breathes. "No child of mine is a drop out."

Daring to speak, I knot my fingers, "I have dreams baba, other dreams, my...own dreams. I couldn't carry on living a lie."

"Ayanda - why, why would you do this, instead of coming to me," Jabu asks, making shit worse because he's so damn perfect. I look at him and see so much disappointment in his eyes. There's a bit of concern though, probably the kind of look he gives his patients when he treats them. "Why didn't you talk to me first?" my brother adds.

I shake my head at him in defiance. "Because... because it was my decision to make, Jabu."

Out of nowhere, my dad slams his fist down on the table - food spilling out from the plates and dishes onto the table cloth. Poor ma gasps in surprise, as she gets up to try and calm my father down. She rests her shaking hand on his arm but he pulls away, almost knocking her over in the process with his elbow. Jabu is up and alert, in a matter of seconds, he's right next to ma – ready to protect her.

"I've done everything in my power to ensure that we have enough money to send you off to university and not just any university Ayanda, Wits University, the best university in South Africa. Why would you do something like this Ayanda? Are you insane? What's gotten into you? This is not the young woman that I raised," his angered voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Answer me Ayanda? Why did you do this?" my dad shouts over Jabu's shoulder. I shrink myself in my seat and zone out. I know I'm really low when there's no colour in my mind. I'm like a colourless midnight sky, no stars even, just shadows of smoke. I couldn't paint even if I wanted to right now. There's just no colour, no tears even – that's how low I feel. I want to tell them all so badly the real reason I did what I did. I want to tell them so badly that all I want to do is paint. All I want to do is find my own voice and tell stories through the stroke of a paint brush, the only way that I know how to truly express myself.

I want to tell him so badly but the words don't come. I swallow the huge throbbing lump in my throat and bury my face in my hands.

"What? Don't you know how to talk? What possessed you to throw your life away like this Ayanda?" My dad's raspy voice invades the shadows. I'm smothered in fog now. A dark shade as my dad falls apart. I watch him come undone. Striking towards me violently, demanding an explanation that I can't give him.

"I cannot believe that after all these years she still wants to draw cartoons for a living," my dad yells and now – now I break. I can't block out his words even if I tried, there is not enough fog around my heart just yet. My heart feels like it is being ripped out of my chest by a sledge hammer at the sound of those words. I want to retaliate. I want to scream at the top of my lungs and defend my passions but like the daddy's little girl that I am, all I do is apologize. Apologize - for being - me.

"I'm sorry baba. I really am." My voice is a soft hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry baba," I say again, louder this time.

"Don't," dad whispers, completely shattered.

"Baba, please, understand," I cry out again and then I stand on my tippy toes and touch my father's face. He stiffens and when he opens his eyes again I see so much heartbreak in his dark gaze. It's killing me to know that I'm the cause of it.

"All I want is for you to have a good life, for you to be happy," he says. Closing his eyes, he turns his face away from me and then he turns walks away.

"Ayanda," my mom says and then she goes after him, barely holding herself together. I feel alone. I don't even trust my own company at this point. I feel like a failure. Jabu reaches for me, touching my cheeks. I need my big brother right now. I need him. My brother - the one who chases all the bad boys away when they try to flirt with me, the one who lets me beat him at chess and protects me at all costs. I need him. I need my brother.

"You should have come to me Ayanda. You should have just come to me," Jabu says, just like I knew he would, although I hoped the latter. As much as his words are true, I don't want to hear them when I'm like this. I don't need him to tell me what I already know. I don't need this crap from him. I just need him to hold on me but instead his words are my undoing so I flip out on him, surprising him because I've been keeping myself together this whole time.

"Shut up Jabu; just shut the hell up ok. You have no idea what I've been going through." The sound of his hospital beeper goes off and I know he's on call. He has to go back - now when I need him to be here for me. He has to freaken go back to the bloody hospital and go on with his perfect life. I feel alone.

"Ayanda, I know you are in pain but I'm not going to stand here and pretend like what you did is ok." _Fuck._ I want to punch him but all I do is, stare at him.

"What are you going to do with yourself now? What are you going to do with your life Ayanda? Please don't tell me you're going to paint. I love you, so I'm not going to lie to you. This is the real world and it's hard Ayanda. It's hard put there even for me and I actually have a career," Jabu says. I snort, fighting back the tears.

I will not cry. I will not cry for a decision that I'm proud of. I will not cry.

"I don't want to be having this conversation with you ok," I cry out, failing myself because fresh, hot tears are already warming my eyes. The hospital beeper goes off again and my head throbs. Everything inside me feels colossal, like I'm about to convulse violently.

"Just go Jabu. Go ok, just go." I'm holding my throbbing head like it's going to fall off. Jabu is looking at me like I've lost my mind. I hate it when people do that. I hate it when they give me that look of shame. _Shit._ Maybe I have lost my mind. I don't even care anymore. I just want him to leave me the fuck alone. I need to be alone.

"What's happening to you Ayanda? First you were drinking and acting crazy at the club like some slut and now this. I don't know who you are anymore Ayanda. I just don't. I don't get you." I watch my brother walk away, banging the door hard behind him.

"Maybe, you never knew me at all," I spit back even though he's already left.

It's all dark shadows around me, a suffocating dark shade of fog. I'm angry at everything. I don't even know what to do with myself. I want to scream and shout and throw things. I want to retaliate it towards something or someone. I want to talk to someone but the question is who? I grab my blackberry and scroll through my contact list. Usually, when I feel this way, broken and confused, the first person that comes to my mind is Khaya but today it's different. I need his light to cast out the darknessI don't know why but it's different tonight. For the first time in my life, I'm in pain and I don't need my white light. I don't want to talk to Khaya because, all he'll want to do is shower me with kisses and love, then he'll tell me that everything will be alright when I know it won't.

He'll lie to me and make me feel like rainbows or the queen of the universe, when it's simply not true. These past few weeks have proven that I'm not a saint. I'm not innocent and sweet and loving. I'm selfish. I'm an emotional wreck and most of all - I'm a fucken quitter, a failure who gave it all up to pursue a dream that might never see the light of day.

Then of course, there's Ashley. I love her to bits but I just can't go to her right now. I don't want to talk to her because she's so perfect - she'll make me feel like shit with her stupid ray of sun light floating all around her like all the stars shine just for her. Knowing Ashley, she'll also add an "I told you so" to my list of misery.

I scroll through all my contacts until I reach the last name on there. _Zak._ Just seeing his name on my contacts list makes me see red - a bad kind of red this time but I'm grateful for it because at least it's colour. It's coming back to me – the colour, it's coming back to me. I'm finally allowing myself to feel. So I let it come. I let it all bathe me – the red. I let myself soak in it, so all I see is red in all the themes. I see it all, lighting up my soul – the anger, the passion, the roses, the blood, the rage, the romance, the scarlet hues and heart shaped love. Rage seems to be the most dominant though. In a rage, I smash my blackberry against the wall and it cracks open. Panicking and surprised by my violent outburst, I breathe in a lungful after lungful of deep exhausting breaths as I make my way out of the house. It feels painful to breathe. I don't want to be here anymore. It feels too painful to breathe. I need the dark. It's raining heavily outside as I step out and I laugh at the irony of it all. The weather seems to be in tune with my mood. I"m grateful for it though. The cold showers, pours down on me on the porch, soaking me up till my blouse sticks to my body like silk.

For this moment right here, I'm in a bubble of heaven. It is like all the suffocation I've been feeling is being washed away by the rain. I'm not even concerned about my hair. It's probably a thick tangle of wet untamed curls that I'm going to have a war with in the morning.

A car hoot makes me jump and then the piercing blind head lights flash in front of me, blinding me. I squeal in frustration. _What the hell_. I walk out of the gate of my parent's house and notice the shiny white Mercedes that dropped me off earlier. I can't fucken believe this shit.

_Poor Mr Petersen never left? He's been parked opposite my parent's house the whole time?_ The thought makes me uncomfortable. I stand unmoving in the rain as the driver's door of the slick Merc opens and poor Mr Petersen steps out holding an umbrella. He walks to the back seat door, intimating for me to enter but I refuse.

I'm about to go back inside when I notice the light of a cell phone in the back seat, along with a dark familiar figure holding it. My heart leaps up to my throat.

_Zak?_ As if on cue, Zak steps out from the back seat and poor Mr Petersen struggles to hold the umbrella up for his tall frame. Zak looks pissed as hell as many droplets of rain manage to drape down his smart black suit attire. Frustrated, I start walking down the pavement, unthinking, uncaring, desperately wanting to get away. It's dark and I have no idea where I am going this late evening in Diepkloof but at this point I don't even care. I just want to get the hell away from here now more than ever. I want to get the hell away from everything.

"Ayanda," Zak calls out, chasing me down in quick long strides. Apparently, he doesn't care much for his million dollar suit getting wet anymore. I ignore him until he catches up to me. He tugs my arm and pulls me towards him in a strong grip - his arms like a hard band of titanium around my waist. He's caught me in a really bad time, so I let him have it. All of it - all the bullshit of tonight, I take it out on him.

"My God Zak, can you just leave me alone. Why can't everyone just leave me alone? Just go back wherever the hell you came from ok. Go back to the real world where all the perfect people live. Just go there and stay the hell away from me." When he doesn't let go of me or barely moves, I scream. "Dammit Zak, let go of me, please." I struggle to break away from his suffocating grip but it only exhausts me. His hold tightens as I struggle. He's looking at me like I've just slapped him with my words but that's what he deserves for adding to my problems. Everything is in shambles and I want something to blame. I want _someone_ to blame too besides myself. Zak being here gives me just the release that I need. I start yelling again.

"Why are you still here? I told you to leave. I mean it. Leave me alone ok, just go, get the hell away from me, drive off in your fancy car and let me be." _Shit_. Probably the whole of Soweto can hear me right now but I don't care. When he refuses to release me, I start punching at his chest with all the strength that my tired, soaked body can manage. Zak grunts deeply from the back of his throat and I know he's had enough. With his fingers encircling tighter around my arms, he gives me a violent shake through my sobs and I freeze - my chest heaving as I almost come to myself again.

"Stop it Ayanda, stop it ok. You're acting like a fucken crazy person. What the fuck is wrong with you anyway? Just breathe ok, breathe and tell me what is going on." I'm the stillest of still in his arms, my body obediently doing what he's just said – breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. I shiver as the rain pours down on us but I seem to have run out of words.

"I've been trying to call you," he says when he sees that I've calmed, eyes filled with concern. Yes – I am calm, until I take in what he's said. _Call me? Shit_. I flip out again.

"That's a lie Zak. I haven't heard from you all week you bastard." My voice is a screechy high pitch tone that I don't recognize.

"I'm a busy man Ayanda." Now, it's my turn to feel like I've just been slapped in the face. I feel my eyes water with fresh tears, fusing with the rain along my cheeks. "Well excuse me for assuming that our working agreement is no longer happening." I try to break free of his hold again but he's stronger than me, so instead, I go ballistic -punching at his hard chest with so much force that it hurts my poor fingers. I'm crying again, fighting to remind myself to not think of the pain this is causing to my knuckles.

"Excuse me for thinking that you've completely forgotten about me you bastard," I add and continue to punch at his chest until I go weak. He notices my sudden lack of strength and captures my wrists as I begin to sob uncontrollably. I'm a shaking mess now. I don't even trust myself to stand on my own. Zak is calm as usual even as I sob and the rain pours on us. He looks away for a second, stealing a glance over his shoulder at Mr Petersen. He sighs and then shakes his head.

"Stop crying. You're not even making any sense Ayanda. What I meant is that, I've been trying to call you about a few minutes ago. Why is your phone not working?" _Because I smashed it against the wall_. The thought makes me feel embarrassed. I struggle to break free again but he still has my wrists captured.

"Leave me alone Zak ok, just leave me alone, please. What the hell are you doing here anyway?" I breathe. "I don't want to work for you ok. Get it through your head. I don't want to think about you and I don't want to miss you. I don't even want you here with me right now ok. Just go," I cry out desperately and meet his concerned gaze.

"Where are you going at this hour out in the rain Ayanda? What's going on?" His voice is soft now and still full of concern and confusion. _Why is he being nice?_ I don't want him to be nice. I want to be mad at him. I want to hate him. I want to hate this man so badly but on what grounds? The fact that he makes my heart dance every time he's around or the fact that my blood warms at his touch - It all just makes me badly want to hate myself. I'm furious. My tired body is telling me to rest my head against his chest and bury myself in his warmth. I'm cold to the bone now, freezing from the cold showers of the rain that I almost lean in to him.

He seems to notice my shivering and frowns. He frees my wrists and then pulls me closer. Snaking his hands around my waist, he hovers over me protectively, shielding me with his size. I want to blame him for everything so I fight all the sensations that my body is feeling and try to pull away instead.

"Talk to me," he whispers against my neck, nuzzling it. "Talk to me ok."

_God, he feels so good_. I want to hate him but his touch feels so damn good. I find myself leaning in to his embrace and burying myself in his fiery cocoon for a few minutes. I let out a breath, closing my eyes, I revel in him. Somehow, the words pour out of me like a tide pushing against a rock. He continues to nuzzle my neck and I can barely speak but I try.

"I'm a mess Zak. I messed up ok, I really did. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know what to do with my life." He doesn't say anything during my crazy melt down. He just looks at me in that way that makes me smudgy inside.

He holds on to me, rocking me in the rain. It's all so weird how my body has a life of its own. I feel warm now with his arms around me even though we're both obviously soaking wet and cold, somehow, the blood flows freely now. When my sobbing ebbs, Zak releases me from his gripping hold and scrubs a hand down his wet face.

I miss his touch already.

He's looking at me with hooded serious eyes and I wonder what's going on in that red mind of his. His silence makes me feel all kinds of foolish. We're standing in the rain, soaking wet and I can't keep my eyes off of his. He's looking at me – only me – I don't know why this feels so amazing.

Zak – looking at me like I'm his only concern gives me a sense of - beauty. I feel exposed especially with all the foolish crap I've just told him. Now I want to disappear. I want to run into the dark and go into oblivion. I turn slowly to walk away again and then I feel Zak's arm's snake around my knees as he throws me over his shoulder and carries me to the car. _Shit._ My frustration rolls back in a flood. I'm punching at his broad back as he walks in quick careful steps, making sure we don't fall over on the sandy wet concrete.

"What are you...what are you doing Zak? Put me down. I...I mean it."

"I'm getting you out of the rain Ayanda, something I should have done as soon as I found you out here acting like a mad little girl." Frustrated, I fight him again until we reach the car. He lowers himself and throws me into the back seat like I'm a bag of potatoes. Thank God, I'm wearing denim shorts and that my blouse is sticking to me otherwise this would be a slightly inappropriate scene.

I scramble in the back seat and struggle to get out of the car as he climbs in next to me, forcing me to stay put. He's way stronger than I'll ever be so my fight goes to waste and only ends up exhausting me even more. Feeling foolish, I force myself to calm down. I look out the window, ignoring him. After a few awkward beats, he lets out a breath and starts ranting.

"Life sucks Ayanda, it really does and yes, you're a fucken mess Ayanda. But – that's just who you are, how you function, how you create, it's all because you're a fucken mess – a beautiful one and that's what makes you understand colour. That's what makes you an incredible artist, needy girl. Can't you see that? It's who you are." Pulling my face towards him with his finger, he makes me look at him. Even though I'm still crying, I'm stunned to silence by his words. He's looking at me like he's got me all figured out and then he smiles.

"Life sucks Ayanda, but it doesn't have to suck in the rain." His last statement infuriates me – Just as I'm about to let him have it, he brushes his index finger against my lips and I can't get a damn word out. I can't get a word out even if I wanted to, that's how enchanted I am by his gesture.

"I know you Ayanda, better than you think, better than you'll ever know. It doesn't matter that I haven't known you for many years. I just know you. I know who you are. You're not an ordinary girl Ayanda. You don't want an ordinary life either. You're a needy girl. You need the crazy, the chaos of it all. You crave it. You're an artist Ayanda. You need the mess. You need it as much as you need the inspiration and as much as you need to breathe. You need to see the world Ayanda and find many new shades but most of all – you need the mess of it all. You just do and that's ok."

"Zak..." I try to speak but he shakes his head.

"It's ok, don't say anything alright. Just rest, I'll take care of you." Zak looks at me, a dead serious expression on his face and I know not to fight him. He leans in to me and gives me a quick peck that has my lips burning for me, craving that bit of crazy that he claims I need. Absentmindedly, my fingers graze my lips – where his kiss had been and then I look away, feeling overwhelmed. If only he knew that he's the one that drives me crazy, ever since he came along, my world has been insane. When he leans in to the driver and gives him instructions, I watch him, intrigued by all that he is. He's so sure of himself, so proud and confident – I wish I was that sure of myself. I wish I knew me like he claims to know me. We drive off into the night and somewhere along the long drive, I fall asleep until we reach Zak's complex. I'm woken up by his gentle touch on my bare leg and I jump in shock.

"Relax, it's just me," he smirks, his hands still brushing against my thigh. "I have no idea how you fell asleep in those wet clothes Ayanda. I only hope you don't catch a cold," he adds. I yawn and then rub my sore tired eyes before I meet his strong gaze.

"Why did you bring me here?" He doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Because, I want to take care of you Ayanda, come on, I want you out of those wet clothes first." He hops out of the car gracefully, whistling to himself. I want to decline. I want to sulk and not give him the satisfaction of getting out of the car but the thought of a nice hot shower is just too tempting or rather a nice hot bath and maybe even a foot rub. I swallow my pride and step out of the car, folding my arms against my chest as the chill of the now cold night gives me goose bumps. I glance at the sky, it's stopped raining and there's calm to the night much as there's calmness to my soul now. I follow Zak up the few steps to the entrance of his massive complex and he stops when we reach the main door. He turns to me and inhales deeply. Gone is the coy arrogance he was wearing just a few seconds ago, all I see now is genuine concern. "Don't ever do that again Ayanda, do you hear me," he breathes. I cock a confused brow at him.

"What?" I whisper.

"Don't ever scare me like that again. Don't ever make me chase after you into the dark, in the fucken rain. I'm still fucken worried about you," he confesses and I swoon inside _. He cares_. His words are like a balm to my soul but I have no intention of letting him know that.

"Oh, how lovely of you to be so concerned about me when you didn't feel the need to even check up on me this whole week until today." I try my best for sarcasm but fail because my voice is shaky and full of emotion. Zak of course - sees right through me. He sees and hears the emotion in my voice I'm pretty sure because he reaches up and strokes my face in the most gentle of touches. I close my eyes and try my best to control my ragged breathing.

"I mean it Ayanda. I don't ever want you walking in the rain in the dark, at night in Soweto of all places. I don't ever want to see you in pain or worst of all - danger, ok." I see the frustration in his eyes. Without another word, he turns and opens the door.

He waits for me to walk inside and then he shuts the door behind us. This guy is always ever the gentleman. He opens doors for me and makes way for me to go in first when we enter a room. I can't help the little amazing things that I notice about him. As we walk passed the passage and into the wide living room, we find Clementine and some girl that I don't know sitting lazily on the couch watching a movie on the largest monitor I've ever seen. Clementine's jaw drops when she sees me.

"Zak, hey, what are you doing here...I thought you were at the club getting a lap dance or something," she stutters. I want to throw up at the sound of her words. She just had to add that last part about the lap dance, so fucken typical of her.

Zak doesn't even pay attention to her though instead his gaze is on this girl that I don't know. There's recognition in his eyes as he looks at her. I notice that the damn mystery girl has the biggest and most perfect breasts I've ever seen and they look real and natural. Not even Ashley's perfect c- cup boobs measure up to this girl's probably perfect double D size.

I immediately have a deep dis-like for her. I. Don't. Like. Her. Not only does she have perfect gigantic boobs but she's light-skinned too. _I don't fucken like her_.

"Why didn't you tell me you were back, Zee," the mystery girl says and she even has one of those sexy sensual Kim Kardashian voices too. _Now, I really, really don't like her._

"What are you doing here Nomsa?" Zak asks her. She gets up and crosses to him.

"I thought I'd surprise you." She goes on to touch at the collar of Zak's damp navy shirt. My blood boils - an unfamiliar surge of anger floods through my exhausted bones once more. I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never reacted like this before. Without thinking, I slide my cold shaking fingers through Zak's surprisingly warm ones. I want to punch this girl, throw in a smart comment or something but I'm simply too exhausted and I'm too much of a lady to ever do something like that. It's not this mystery girl's fault that she's so damn beautiful. Zak surprises me by giving my hand a squeeze and manoeuvring us to the other side of the living room. Mystery girl, whom I now know has a name can't hide the disappointment from her pretty annoying face.

"What the hell happened to the two of you anyway? You're both soaking wet," Clementine calls out after us. We ignore her as we walk out of the living room and up the stairs. "Got word on Chad," Nomsa calls out and Zak freezes. He let's go of my hand, looks at her over his shoulder and frowns. "Stop fucken lying Nomsa," he yells with enough conviction that the poor girl doesn't say another word. Taking my hand again, he leads me away. In silence and with our fingers clasped, Zak leads me to a large bedroom, which I'm assuming is his because of the personalized artistic style and design of the room.

There are three beautiful enlarged landscape framed photography pieces hung up on the wall opposite the bed. Elegant chandeliers hang from the ceiling and I also notice some framed family photos from when Zak, Khaya and Thembi were kids. I see wide glass doors leading up to a balcony reflecting the moons glow on the grey and blue sheets draped on the dramatic King sized bed. _Geez, the room is massive_. There's a door left ajar on the far corner of the room, forming a passage that I think leads to a bathroom. Zak lets go of my hand and walks to the drawer, he pulls out a towel, a giant white sweater and lays them out neatly on the bed.

"You should take a shower Ayanda, I don't want you getting a cold, not when we have a busy schedule to follow over the next month until the launch," he says. I'm shivering and too tired to question him about this whole surprise schedule thing. I cross to him, take the towel and walk towards the passage.

"I'm heading out real quick ok," Zak says as I make my way into the bathroom. I pause and stalk right back at him, trying not to look so distraught.

"You're leaving?" This time I don't even try to hide the disappointment from my voice. He implores me deeply and nods.

"Please don't leave. Please don't leave me," I whine like a desperate little girl. _Damn._ I'm a real piece of shit today - just a moment ago outside in the rain when Zak showed up at my parent's house, I was begging him to leave me the hell alone. I was hysterical. I was practically forcing him to leave me and be done with me, now the thought of him leaving even for a second, terrifies me to my core. I was giving him every reason to be done with me. Maybe – just maybe he's finally come to his senses and can't wait to get the hell away from me and do what? Go back to the strip club like Clementine openly insinuated or maybe he wants to go hang out with that stupid mystery girl and her double D sized chest.

Zak is looking at me as if he can tell exactly what crazy thoughts I'm thinking this very second. _Damn, am I that expressive?_ Apparently so because his eyes soften as his hand comes up to touch my cheek, always ever so gentle with me even when I don't deserve it. I feel all kinds of weird inside.

"I'll be back ok. I promise you," he whispers like he's talking to an unstable child who's just thrown a tantrum over a piece of candy. I stare at him unblinking. Swallowing hard, Zak turns awkwardly and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him. I think he's nervous. I've never seen him nervous before - it's all so weird. I'm left here standing alone in his room, unmoving for a few minutes before I allow myself to feel a damn thing. I'm immersed in sadness and loneliness like I've never known before. This loneliness somehow, only, truly crept into my soul the moment Zak left my sight like a nervous frightened little boy. I don't know what to make of it all. It's all so fucken confusing. _Why did he leave me?_

Chapter 14

Zak

When I was a child, I used to be afraid of the dark. A part of me still is and I think I'll never truly get over it. Tonight was a true test. I've never been caught more off guard and crippled with fear than when I saw Ayanda walking in the dark, soaking in the rain along the empty dangerous streets of Soweto. Diepkloof is a safer area of Soweto but still, I was crippled with fear - for her sake and mine. I think my fear for her well-being at that moment somehow overpowered my fear of the dark because I managed to go after her. She was a mess when I showed up. She still is a bloody fucken mess and I don't know what to do. I've never been so baffled in my life believe it or not.

Maybe that's why I left so abruptly after making sure that she's safe in my room. _Shit_. Never in a million years did I ever think that Ayanda would be taking a shower in my house - naked in my house, upstairs in my personal domain. I'm so out of it because of the eventful night I'm having that I've taken off like the coward that I am. I'm in my Range, driving but I have no idea where exactly I'm headed to. I just needed to get away.

I'm not exactly an expert at dealing with girl's that have just had a major meltdown so forgive me if I don't know what the hell is expected of me. I always know how to handle shit but when it comes to Ayanda, I never know what to do and it scares the shit out of me. Out of all the things that Ayanda's said tonight - the only thing ringing through my memory like a broken telephone is when she basically told me she's been waiting on me.

_Call me? That's a lie because I haven't heard from you all week, you bastard_. I ponder on those words. She's been waiting on me but I've been a coward. Of course I thought I was doing the right thing by ignoring her all week which she's clearly not impressed by but still, I can't help feeling like shit about it. _Has she been missing me? Did she want me to pick up the phone and call her?_ Surely not but what else could she have meant by that. And then there's this whole thing with Chad. I don't know where he is and it's driving me crazy. I mean how hard can it be to track down a former convict? Nomsa can't possibly know where he is, I mean, how can she when my guys, who are professionals at matters like this can't even track him down. Chad is up to something, I just know he is because why else would he be laying low like this.

I've been punishing myself lately. I've been spending my days at my house in Bedfordview. The house that I bought for mama - she's yet to see it till this day. She knows about it though because, I was so excited when I bought the house that I tried to contact her. I was in New York at the time but I told her all about it over the phone - when she used to take my calls. I even had the interior designer go down to Soweto to break the news for her in person. That was about five years ago when I constantly used to check on her. I used to check on them all - all the time, calling them and even inviting them over to the prospect of a paid trip to New York or whatever part of the world I would be in. They always rejected my requests though and as the years went by, I stopped being so persistent. I gave up on them just like they gave up on me.

Anyway, I've been spending a lot of late nights out there in Bedfordview in my fully furnished and decorated but empty house. I've been punishing myself. I've been sitting out in the dark, in the living room, trying to find enjoyment in my fear. Through it all, I would think of dad and how he would tuck me in as a child and then switch off the lights and pray with me. He would tell me not to be afraid of the dark. He would tell me that there was nothing for me to be afraid of because the angels of God encamp all around us at all times. Fuck, I hate the fact that I still love my dad and I miss him, no matter how much I try to hate him or not think about him. The little boy child in me still loves his dad. My phone buzzes through the speakers of the car - annoyed, I bark at it.

"Talk to me."

"Hey Zak," Clementine says through the speakers. "What's up babe?" I reply.

"Nothing, just checking up on you, you didn't seem ok when you left. I hope it's not about Chad. Nomsa's lying, Zak ok, I know she is." _Damn_. I love this girl and all, we're close but sometimes - I just wish she would stay the hell out of my business. "I'm fine Clementine."

"Are you sure? Why did you bring that girl here Zak? Why would you do that?" she asks. I don't even beat around the bush when I answer her.

"She's a mess tonight and she needed a friend ok." Clementine laughs in that way that annoys the crap out of me.

"Oh, how sweet Zak, so what, you're her friend now?" she says and I hear the laughter in her voice. I don't trust myself to speak without swearing the crap out of her.

"Anyway, look. Nomsa and I are going out to King just now. You're more than welcome to join us once you're done fucking that girl," she teases but I'm not in the mood to play games. I snap at her. "I'm not going to fuck Ayanda."

"Of course you are," Clementine says as I cut the call. I'm just so annoyed with her for assuming the worst of me and I'm mad at her for bringing that stupid slut Nomsa to my house too. I haven't seen Nomsa in years. Last I heard was that she was dating Clementine's brother who's apparently still nowhere to be seen. Chad went missing about eight years ago. Then I heard that he went to prison and was finally released after doing five. He was my homeboy. I used to work for him, selling drugs in the substance ridden area of Eldorado Park. He was there for me when I dropped out of high school and had no money to my name as well as no place to go to. The guy was bad news and everyone feared him but somehow, Chad was always good to me. He taught me a lot about running a business even though his was an illegal one. I only got out of it all when I met Liam and saw how fucked up the drugs made him. I used the money I made while working for Chad to start my own legal and legit shit. The rest speaks for itself I guess because I'm a walking success story. I pull up at a garage, fill my tank and then buy some cigarettes. After having a smoke, I head back to Oak Lakes, not wanting to leave Ayanda all alone in my house for too long, especially with these talks of Chad from Nomsa. I would never forgive myself if something happened to Ayanda on my watch.

I drive for a long while just thinking, how the fuck am I, supposed to fix this – how am I going to make shit right for Ayanda. She needs me right now, she needs me to fix this mess for her but the question is how? As I drive passed a McDonalds on my way back, it hits me, like a bright clear sky. I think I'm having one of those silly "epiphany moments." The bright yellow and red colours of the McDonalds building make me feel like I've just won the lottery. This. Is. It.

The solution to my temporary crises at home is staring me in the face. I have a miserable emotional girl in my house to attend to and I'm freaking out but now I know exactly what to do to mend her heartache. I remember my conversation with her that day when I took her up the Orlando towers. She mentioned something about an Oreo McFlurry ice-cream. I smile to myself as I pull up into the drive through section of the Rosebank McDonalds. I press the customer button and order an Oreo McFlurry ice-cream with extra Oreos. With my mood lifted, I drive myself back to the complex. Inside, it's quiet and the lights are off. I guess Clementine and Nomsa have left already because I didn't see the Jeep outside.

I navigate up the stairs two at a time, anxious to give Ayanda her ice-cream and hopefully put a smile on her beautiful face. Reaching the door, I go straight in. I start talking even before I open the door.

"I hope you like extra Oreos in your -" _Shit_. What. The. Fuck. I stop abruptly when I get the shock of my life. My tongue sticks to the back of my throat. Oh...oh, my God.

_Is this really happening?_ There's a naked Ayanda standing in front of the bathroom door, struggling to decide which part of her body she deems worthy of hiding from me with her small hands. Her eyes are round on her face as she looks at me, unblinking, and full of panic. I see the fury in her though as her one hand goes down to cover her woman parts while the other arm barely covers her small breasts.

Apart from her squeal, she seems to have lost her voice just like I have. We're both dumbfounded and speechless. Maybe, it's the shock. Perplexed, I stand there like an asshole and stare at her. I can't help it. I don't think any red blooded man would be courteous enough to look away in my shoes. I should look away - I really should. I want to look away because it's the right thing to do but my eyes don't get the memo. My brain has sort of forgotten that I'm a gentleman. My burning gaze implores her naked form as my brain shorts out in disbelief. Ayanda Miya - is naked in my room and I have the honour of catching a glimpse.

_Ayanda is naked in my room_.

That's all that's on my mind until her voice jerks me back.

"Well, don't just stand there. Pass me the bloody towel," she screams at me.

_Shit, Earth to Zak, earth to Zak_. I remind myself to get back in motion. Ayanda has recovered and somehow, she's bravely looking at me with accusing eyes. I don't like it one damn bit. She's looking at me like I planned to walk in on her naked and grope at her like some fucken pervert. Frowning, I cross to the bed, grab the towel and toss it to her. I keep my gaze away now as she makes herself decent. I turn to look the other way and ironically find myself in perfect view of her still naked form - from the mirror opposite my bed. She's struggling to wrap the giant towel around herself because her hands are shaking. She still seems to be a bit shaken and is trembling as she walks to the bed and takes the sweater I pulled out for her earlier. Without another word, she rushes back into the bathroom and locks the door.

"Seriously, Ayanda," I yell out, loud enough for her to hear me from the bathroom as I make an observation of myself. I put the almost melting ice-cream on top of the drawer next to the mirror irritably and sigh. "So much for my surprise gesture," I whine. Fuck, I look like shit. I remove my damp blazer because it smells like wet dog and then the shirt follows soon after because it's sticking to my skin uncomfortably. I throw the shirt in a pile on the carpet with my blazer, barely containing my frustration.

"I've been gone for almost an hour Ayanda, how are you seriously still getting dressed," I add even as Ayanda comes storming out of the bathroom. She's drowning in my giant white sweater that falls slightly over her knees, looking sexier than sin. She stands in front of me, perplexed at first when she sees that I've stripped out of my shirt and blazer.

Her eyes roam over my chest for a little too long - I think she's checking me out. I can't help the devilment on my face which seems to makes her frown.

"Ever heard of knocking Zak, it's so simple. All you have to do is knock you before you enter a room. Knock," she says finally. She's dead serious but somehow, I want to laugh so badly at what she's saying because, forgive me if it never occurred to me to knock in my own damn room. Forgive me, if I wasn't expecting to find a naked sexy as fuck girl in my room. I suppress the mischievous smile the thought of her naked body is forcing out of me. I force my mind out of the gutter when she shoves at my chest - making me want to pull her into my arms and devour her lips. The girl is insane and she's stronger than she looks too. She shoves at my chest again but her attempt does nothing to me.

"This is my room Ayanda, you should have been done. I gave you more than enough time." I try my hardest not to laugh or smile. She looks adorable because she's genuinely worked up. To me, it's all really funny. It's not a big deal, I've seen a lot of naked women before but somehow, I don't think Ayanda will get over me seeing her naked any time soon. But still, I have to make her understand that it's really no big deal. It only becomes one when she speaks about it like it is.

"Let's not make it an issue Ayanda. I've seen a lot of naked women before."

"You've seen a lot of naked women...like a lot?" she stutters. She almost sounds hurt as she folds her arms around herself protectively. Ok...Maybe \- I shouldn't have mentioned the "lot of naked women" part to her. Fuck, I'll never understand women but I choose my words carefully this time. "I'm a twenty eight year old man Ayanda, so I've obviously seen my fair share of naked women."

"A lot...well how many Zak?" she whispers and squeezes her eyes shut as if she's too afraid to know the answer. "Enough, I've seen enough," I say to her quietly, cupping her face so she can look into my eyes and hopefully see that for her sake I really don't want to talk about this.

"Let's not go there Ayanda. It's unfair and you know it. That would be like me asking you how many men you've been with, which I'm assuming is just my brother." She shakes her head at this and I don't even hide the shock on my face.

I think my heart leaps out of my chest. _What is she trying to say?_ Has she been with more guys than just Khaya? I don't know why this makes me so fucken angry all of the sudden.

"So, it's not just Khaya?" I ask. I try my best to not sound so damn pissed off but I can't help it. Ayanda's jaw drops. At this point, I can't tell if she's shocked or offended.

"Fuck you Zak, what do you take me for? I don't do such things. Khaya and I, we don't do that, we're not there yet. I'm not ready. It's just...Gross."

Wow...I guess she is offended. I'm beyond shocked. I thought I was shocked before but this just takes it to a whole new level. Now, I have to tread softly.

"So you mean you've never been with a man before?"

"Yes," she answers immediately. No. Fucken. Way. I lean down so my face is inches from hers.

"So, you're a virgin?" I whisper. "Yes," she says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, or like it's the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it is normal but not in my world. I've never met a virgin before. I've never even been with one too. I know now - more than ever that Clementine was wrong, there's no way in hell I'm fucking this girl tonight, maybe not ever. I could never do that. I could never take away her innocence, yet along do that to Khaya, whose probably been waiting on this girl forever. Just thinking about Khaya brings a wave of pain to my heart, or is it fury? I can't deal. Now, more than ever, I feel envious of my brother. I'm so jealous, it's not even funny. I'm a jealous fool for this pretty little girl, that's not even mine. Kicking back the asshole inside of me, I force myself to be courteous. I apologize. I actually apologize to this girl and I'm the type of guy - that doesn't apologize to anyone. But I apologize to her because – she deserves it.

"I'm sorry I walked in on you. I should have knocked but I gave you more than enough time Ayanda."

"Yeah, well when you left me here all on my own for so long. I...I thought you were not coming back," she confesses, sounding really pissed at me and I want to die inside. With her folded arms around herself protectively, she swings on her heels from one foot to the other. _Fuck._ Women are so weird. What exactly is she mad about?

"Ayanda, are you mad because I left for a while or are you mad because I accidently saw you naked. Please, tell me so I know exactly what it is I should apologize for."

Her gaze travels to the carpet and she keeps it there for a while, knotting her fingers nervously.

"Both? Why did you leave me Zak? Had enough of me already?" she murmurs, her small voice sounding overly child-like. Damn. This girl is the strangest creature I have ever met. I can tell she's been crying again while I was away. Her eyes are puffy and red but still - to me, she's the prettiest creature I've ever seen. The girl is beautiful even in her towel dried mop of hair and the oversized Yankees sweater she has on - I'm blown away by her. As I stare at her, looking as down as she is, I clear my throat. _It's time to play nice_. I reach for the ice-cream on top of the drawer behind me and look at her.

"I went out to try and figure out how to make you feel better. So, I have something for you." My voice is a gentle whisper as I hand her the ice-cream. I'm a ball of nerves. This girl makes me do strange nice things that I don't normally do for any girl I fancy. She makes me corny as fuck too. She makes me consider white picket fences and a happily ever after fairytale kind of relationhip where we call each other baby and darling like loved out idiots.

_Ice-cream, I mean seriously_ , _Zak, real smooth_.

She's perplexed as she stares at the cup, unblinking for a while and then a small smile creeps up on her face. Just seeing that smile assures me that it was all worth it. All the bullshit she's put me through tonight. Screaming at me, crying like a crazy person, hitting me and even cursing me. It was all worth it. I would take any kind of crap she throws at me just to be rewarded with that damn enticing smile. "For me?" she whispers and snakes her fingers around the small cold cup. "For you, Ayanda." I snake my fingers over hers around the cup. Keeping my hands on hers like this for a while as she implores me, her wide eyes watering and I can tell that she's struggling to fight back the tears threatening to fall. "You...you went out to go get me ice-cream?" she stutters. She's surprised but impressed – that much I can tell. I try to keep my cool as I answer her question because the truth is - I'm extremely embarrassed by it all. "I did, I got you ice-cream Ayanda. I didn't know what to do, you just looked so sad," I admit. She nods and slowly launches herself at me. Standing on her tippy toes, she drapes her one arm around me whilst holding the ice-cream in the other. Surprised by her gesture - I remain unmoving for few awkward beats. She keeps the contact though and I'm grateful. When I finally respond, I swing my arms around her waist and hold her to me. She lets out a lungful of air like she was holding her breath, waiting on me to react. This is really weird for me. I'm not the kind of guy who is used to people reacting affectionately towards me when I do something for them. I've been sending money home for years and I've never even gotten a thank you for it. I bought mama a house and she doesn't even seem to want it. I payed for some of Khaya's graduation bills and never got invited to the graduation. Now, here I am with this girl - I buy her ice-cream for crying out loud. Ice- cream, which costs no more than 20 bucks and I get this in return - a hug, an actual genuine hug that has no sexual connotations. Just a simple hug, so I revel in it and it feels so damn good. She smells divine, a mixture of my shower gel and her own natural scent. She seems to want me to hold her so I do just that – I hold her to me, until she pulls away.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," she snorts and takes a big scoop of ice-cream into her mouth. She seems to be feeling better already so thank God for that.

"Sorry...uhm about earlier, at my parent's house, I didn't mean all those things I said to you," she confesses.

"Don't worry about it Ayanda." I cup her chin. "Feeling better?" I add and she nods. I stare at her for a while, trying to read her. I wonder if she's ready to talk about whatever it is I came into at her parent's house. Deciding it will be best if she brought it up first, I let it go. Walking to the wardrobe, I grab a towel and stroll towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Yeah, ok cool and thanks again for this Zak. It's my favourite."

"I know," I tell her, cocking a brow at her. She turns to me with furrowed brows.

"You do, but how?" her voice, a shocked low whisper.

"Because you told me and like I said...I know you Ayanda."

***

After my ten minute shower, I dress in navy pyjama pants and a white vest. I find Ayanda seated on the carpet in the middle of the room. Her knees are raised and her face is buried there. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen anyone do. She could have chosen to lie on the bed or sit out by the balcony on the couch but no, not this girl. She's chosen to plump herself in a spot in the centre of the carpet. It's a clean, soft brown carpet but still, it's the floor for crying out loud. She looks so small seated there - like a lost child drowning in my white big sweater. I cross to her and lower myself with my weight on my heels, kneeling in front of her.

"You can take the bed. I'll take the floor or the guest room," I say and she makes no effort to acknowledge me or look up at me. I sit next to her on the carpet with my hands resting on my raised knees.

Ayanda doesn't move an inch. She keeps her face buried in her knees and we just sit there - in the quiet. I let her have this moment because well - she seems to really need it. I wish I could join her where ever it is she's gone to. She's far away from me and I don't like it. I can't reach her when she goes inside her head like this, somewhere in her thoughts where I cannot follow, even though we're in the same room. I sit quietly next to her, rubbing my hand over the now full beard on my face.

"What do you do to escape?" she asks. _Shit, what?_ Her small voice snaps me back to the room. I seem to have drifted away to a world of my own too. _What do I do to escape?_ I ponder at this even though I have an idea what she means.

Needing to be sure, I ask, "Escape what?"

Now she does look up at me, blessing me with her beautiful shy smile.

"You know, escape the world and all this shit around us. What do you do to escape?" Her voice is full of wonder and longing, like she wants to be taken away.

"You mean like check out?" I say humorously. She laughs. I don't think I've ever actually heard her laugh properly. It's the loveliest sound to my ears.

"Yeah, something, like that," she whispers. I tell her what works for me although I'm not quite sure if it would be her thing.

"I get high."

She stops laughing and cocks a brow at me.

"What? Like...drugs and stuff?" She looks horrified. Now, it's my turn to laugh as I stretch my legs out on the carpet.

"No silly girl. I'm not the big bad wolf that everyone thinks, I am." She looks at me uncomfortably and puffs up her cheeks as if bracing herself to say whatever it is she wants to say.

"Well, it's just that, people talk Zak and they've always said stuff about you." I want to kiss her for her bravery even though she's uncomfortable about it. It's almost humorous. I don't know what possesses me to tell her the truth but I do just that. I tell her the truth, unashamed.

"I used to sell a few pills, years back, used the money to start off King." She looks at me curiously but I see no condemnation in her eyes, only understanding.

"You did what you had to do to survive I guess," she murmurs.

"But, not at the cost of other people's lives Ayanda. I regret what I did every second of every day." Never have I ever felt the need to explain myself to anyone but once again when it comes to this girl, I contradict myself. I will always explain myself to her because deep down inside I want her to see me as a decent guy. I want her to believe in me.

"Do you use it?" she asks. I'm almost offended that she would even ask me this but I let it slide.

"I've never used it. I smoke weed Ayanda."

She breaths in a lungful of air and I see the relief in her wide eyes. She runs a hand through her now dry wild curls and looks into me like I'm a study she's trying to understand.

"So, is that what you do to escape?" she murmurs. I reach out and touch a strand of her hair and then I touch her chin gently.

"Do you want to try it Ayanda?" I tease. I'm surprised when she leans into my touch and closes her eyes like she's actually considering it.

"Maybe - but I might, suck at it," she whispers and her eyes meet mine again. Her eyes meet mine and I know that it's on.

"I'll teach you." I get up and will her to take my hand.

She slips it in mine without question and I lead her towards the balcony. I always have a stash hidden under the small garden table there. Ayanda sits on the long couch besides me as I pull out a stack that I left on the ashtray. She watches me with concentration as I prepare a round. I roll the green stuff on rizler paper and put it alight. The strong scent quickly fills the small space of the balcony and I bring the bud to my lips.

"I get the first pull," I tell her. I blow out dramatically after a long pull and then pass the bud to Ayanda. She curls her small fingers around it and slowly brings it to her lips. I don't know exactly what she does with it but it's definitely not my version of smoking a joint. She lets out a suffocated cough and I know for certain that she's doing it all wrong. I laugh because it's quite a scene watching her poor attempt at getting high. She doesn't take offense though she simply pats her chest, trying desperately to recover. I tug at her hand gently and pull her towards me so she willingly sits on my lap.

"I told you I'd suck at this," she admits. She buries her head in between my neck and laughs, a low laugh for my ears only. I kiss her temple and take in another pull of the bud.

Tilting her head up, I blow the smoke of my last pull at her playfully. She jabs my arm playfully and takes the bud from me.

"Don't pull in too much smoke too fast. Take your time and let it in from here Ayanda," I explain, placing my hand on her abdomen.

"Like this." She tries for another pull and this time she doesn't cough much.

"Now let it out," I guide her as she breathes out. She squeals in excitement, getting a kick at doing it right.

"I did it. I actually did it." She sounds so proud of herself and its bitter sweet for me because I feel like I'm corrupting her. I let her finish the first bud off and I prepare another one. Taking the first pull, I pass it to her. This time, she takes it in like a boss and it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

"You're getting the hang of it but are you actually getting high?" I ask. She shakes her head, laughing. Smiling, I take the bud from her and sigh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Let me help you out a little," I say, taking a long pull of the bud and tilting her chin up. Leaning in, so my face is inches from hers, my lips brush her mouth. Taking the hint, she opens for me, leaving enough room for me as she closes her eyes. I blow the smoke into her mouth and it floats all around us in a miasma.

She's the utmost perfection of sexy when she opens her eyes. Seeing at her like this, with romance in her eyes - I know I'm in trouble. Something's changed. I want to kiss her so badly. We're thinking the same thing me and her, I know what she wants me to do but I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop.

"I know of another kind of escape and you do it well Zak." She's brave as she says this. Gone is the timid, emotional and confused girl. What I see now is a woman. A confident woman who knows what she wants.

Me - she wants me.

For a change - she makes the first move. Her arms snake around my neck and she practically begs me to kiss her with the look in her eyes. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen. She lowers herself and kisses my neck and then down to plant soft kisses along my chest. Shit. This girl is a little vixen. Maybe – maybe she did get high from the weed after all.

Her kisses are torturous to my burning skin. Unknowing, my hands make their way to caress the bare skin underneath the giant sweater she has on. From the warm soft skin of her flat belly and up to her small perky breasts - my hands travel up - slowly.

_No bra?_ This realization sends me up the roof. She moans when I give her breasts a squeeze. She moans for me.

I snake my hands around her waist and lift her so she straddles me. I'm not gentle now as I kiss her, I'm a man hungry for a woman and this seems to suit her just fine. She meets me half way, kissing me back so I know it's on. I leave the ball in her hands as I pull away long enough to get a word in.

"Tell me to stop Ayanda and I'll stop." I kiss her again in a long slow stroke and pull away just as she starts to get into to it.

"Tell me to stop Ayanda please. Tell me to stop before this goes too far." My lips graze her neck and the sensitive skin along her pulse. She moans and pants like a woman lost. I don't think she's hearing me much so I drag my mouth away from hers but she's not having it - she bites on my lower lip. My tongue enters her mouth once more for another taste before I pull away again.

"Tell me...tell me to stop, just say the words and I'll stop," I whisper between kisses. I take her into the heat again until we're a war of tongues caught up in a play of passion. My hands fiddle with her sweater, tugging at it until I manage to slip it out over her head. For a second I think she wants to stop me when her hands come up to cover her now exposed breasts.

"Tell me to stop Ayanda," I yell, trying to reason with her again. I see the war in her eyes. She's nervous and struggling to blinks back tears.

"I don't want you to stop. I want this Zak. I want you to put your hands on me. I want this," she says confidently and she doesn't have to tell me twice. I move her hands away from her breasts slowly and she trembles, looking at me with so much longing, I have to force myself not to lose my cool. I want to take my time, so that I don't hurt her. I have no experience with virgins but I know that I have to take things slow.

"God, you're so beautiful Ayanda." I lift us off the couch in such a way that her legs automatically wrap around my waist. I walk us back into the room and lay her gently on the bed. She looks up at me with nervous but anxious eyes – waiting - patiently waiting on the bed for me. Standing in front of the bed, I take the time to admire her exquisite naked form. This has been a long time coming between us – that much, I can admit. I want to imprint how she looks right now in my memory so I'll never forget it because it's probably never going to happen again. This will be our little secret and she'll hate me in the morning for it anyway – so go figure. The girl is a beauty and she wants to give herself to me tonight. I'm a lucky bastard, even though I have no idea what I did to deserve her willing consent. With my eyes never leaving hers, I strip away my pyjamas and crawl up on top of her.

Chapter 15

Aya

It's happening. I can't believe this is actually happening. I'm lying on my back, naked with Zak hovering on top of me. I'm the stillest of still that a person can be. I let Zak do his thing because well, I'm not exactly sure what's expected of me. I let my hands roam gently over his broad back and upper arms, enjoying his masculinity while he watches me with dark brown eyes full of promise and desire. I keep the contact and remind myself to breathe.

"Try to relax ok," Zak whispers as he nuzzles my neck. Then he leaves a trail of soft kisses along the sensitive skin around my breasts. My body feels like it's, on fire even though he's barely touching me yet. My mind is racing. This is too much - too much colour - too much fire. There are too many voices too that I need to silence if I want to enjoy this. Voices telling me that, what I'm doing is wrong. That I should be ashamed of myself or that I'm the world's biggest fool for letting Zak be my first when it should be Khaya. Just thinking about Khaya almost brings tears to my eyes but I blink them away. I need this. I need this moment with Zak. I need that little bit of freedom with him.

"You're still thinking too much Ayanda," Zak says and takes my mouth into his. It's a long kiss, the kind that shuts my brain off completely until all I see is stars and rainbows, dancing in the dark of my closed eye lids. He breaks the kiss and moves his caresses down my neck.

_This is my decision. This is my decision_. I remind myself as my body burns \- coming alive like I've been dead my whole life. Shit. This. Feels. So. Good. His hands are magic on my skin. Like fireworks, I'm reaching for something. There's an explosion going off in my head like a kaleidoscope with every touch and every kiss. Zak's hands are everywhere now as he straddles me. The skill of his kisses and hands leaving a trail of warmth along my overly sensitive skin. With each kiss growing more and more intense between us – I crave it, the mess and the craziness that he spoke of to me in the car. The hunger in my soul for this man is excruciating. I finally get it. He was right – I am crazy and I love it because, only he can truly bring it out of me.

There's a throbbing in between my thighs that I don't understand - all I know is that, it needs to be attended to desperately. Zak, being the magician that he is right now seems to notice the desperation that I'm feeling. He seems to understand everything about my body like he's made a study of it somehow. It feels like I'm going to erupt into oblivion when Zak's fingers brush against my womanly folds. I lose it – I lose it when his fingers find their way inside me. Shit. This is what crazy feels like because I'm screaming like a mad person every time he slides his fingers inside me. I don't recognize the magnitude of the sounds coming out of my mouth, reaching the ceiling. I'm lost in unintelligible moaning and panting. All the voices of others in my head have been silenced. The voices of guilt, the voices of doom, the voices of regret and the voices of fear take a back stand. All I hear now is my own voice. _This is what I want_. Zak – this crimson fire between us, he is all that I want.

This feeling of being the woman that he wants gets me off - never have I felt more beautiful. Never have I felt more wanted. Never have I felt more alive. As he works his hands all over me, I allow myself to feel it all, the crimson fire taking me deeper and deeper into the flames. Sweet yellows, wild oranges, glowing blues and smoky blacks – there's a fire in my head all the way down to the dancing flames all over my body, illuminating my soul.

_This is fire_. I allow myself to respond and meet him half way. Bravely, I let my hands move and roam his body in a quest of my own, feeling every inch, pattern and curve of his strong frame. My hands seem to do the trick because, he lets out a grunt deep in his throat, letting me now that I affect him just the same as he does me. I feel so powerful. It's a war of foreplay between us for a long while until I can't take it anymore. _This is fire and I'm burning beyond flames now_. My skin is on fire and the ache in between my legs is unbearable.

"Zak, please," I murmur. I'm reaching for something again, I just don't know what it is but I desperately need it. Zak's hand caresses my cheek in the most placid of touches as he smirks. "Please what?" he teases, kissing me again before I can reply. I moan into his mouth. When I'm finally allowed to breathe, I struggle to sound coherent.

"Please Zak...I, I need...I need you." Flip, I'm panting desperately in between kisses, failing to speak. My world alters for a second when he positions me underneath him. I'm a virgin but not an idiot. I know what's about to happen now when his large hands find my hips and he hoists me up to meet him. Without warning, he pierces into me in a swift motion. My face assembles itself into one of pain. I try to hide it but - it hurts, a crippling kind of pain. I can't help but cry out.

"Oh...this feels..." my voice is a minor whisper as I stutter before Zak silences me with a slow dragged out kiss. It's a consuming kiss that shuts everything off in my mind - it's all black inside and I can't think - only feel. As he kisses me, he continues to fill me up inside in slow movements and then I somehow adjust because the pain ebbs. I think the worst is out of the way now. I find myself really starting to enjoy it, this strange feeling of being invaded and this strange feeling of burning but loving the burn. The sensations are out of this world. He continues to move and kiss me at the same time in a rhythm before he breaks the kiss.

My eyes remain closed as I take it all in. Breathless - this strange foreign, irresistible and magical feeling of sex – makes me feel - free.

"Look at me Ayanda," Zak breathes. His face just inches from mine. I feel his breath on my temple as I look up at him. He moves again in a rhythm that I now meet in strokes of my own. The discomfort is still there but it's bearable now. Sensations building up inside of me, high and then low, low and then high again. I'm a firework again as Zak watches me. He watches me like he knows that I'm about to erupt. I'm about to come undone in a crushing explosion of fulfilment. He watches the different evidence of his lovemaking play on my face. His eyes are burning into me even though I hardly keep the contact. My eyes go blurry as I finally reach it - the burst of the fireworks that I was desperately reaching for and the peak of my explosion.

I cry out as my body combusts. These strange feelings inside of me finally scatter and after a few more strokes, I know Zak finds his fulfilment too when he stills and then collapses on top of me. He's no longer holding up his weight from his elbows. It's all on me now, he's heavy, but still - I revel in the feeling. I revel in it and caress his back with my fingers, enjoying the feeling of touching him when he's all weak and sated. I nuzzle his neck and take in his scent. I finally know the fire.

"You feel so good Ayanda," Zak whispers as he relieves me off of his weight. He lies on his back and I snuggle closer to him, taking in all his warmth.

"Let's do that again," I whisper this absentmindedly against his skin and get a deep chuckle out of him.

"Round two, already? You really are a needy girl Ayanda," he says in pretence shock. I nod at this playfully because even I know that guys need a bit of time before they get themselves together after sex. Shit, now that my body is sated, my brain comes back in full swing screaming at me like a loud drum.

_What have you done? What have you done Ayanda?_ I don't dwell on it too much because Zak finally drapes his arm around me.

I rest my head on his chest and trace the pattern of his tattoos with my free hand. Thoughts of regret and guilt in my mind are now replaced by the mere fact that this man is cuddling me. _We're cuddling - we're actually cuddling_. I'm in heaven once more because this feels, amazing. The last thing I remember before I fall asleep is the rise and fall of Zak's chest and the beating of his heart like music to my ears, lulling me to sleep. Red.

***

Morning comes too soon for me on this day to be particular because I don't quite feel like getting back to reality. I'm still immersed in all things Zak. I creep out of the bed, making sure to be quiet as to not wake him. This man sleeps like the dead because, not only does he not make a sound, he doesn't move either as I tip toe around the room, trying to remember what I did with my clothes. I head into the bathroom with sore limb bones from all that I got up to last night and find my hung shorts, blouse, bra and underwear. I try to dress as quickly as I can and get through my shorts and bra before Zak comes strolling into the bathroom with hooded eyes. He cocks a lazy brow at me.

"Going somewhere?" he asks as he slips into the toilet section. Shit, this guy even looks good in the morning. I want to answer but my voice doesn't get the memo because my brain is still trying to grasp how someone can look that great in the morning in nothing but pyjama pants. I close my eyes and quickly fasten my bra.

"Some of us don't live here remember?" I try to manoeuvre my way out of the bathroom to give him some privacy as I say this but he's already done.

He washes his hands, dries them and tugs my arm before I open the door. He pulls me back into the bathroom, closing the door with his other hand. Then he pins me against it. He leans down and without warning, starts kissing me. I wasn't expecting this so I'm unmoving for a beat or two. I want to break free. I should break free but my body seems to overpower my mind as usual. I never used to believe it when people would say, the flesh is weak. My body has a life of its own when it comes to this man. Like a carnal idiot, I lean in to his kiss and open for him, parting my lips for his invasion. His mouth tastes nothing like morning breath or maybe I'm just so sprung on him that anything he does to me tastes like milk and honey or a Mcflurry Oreo ice-cream. I don't know? All I know is that I never want this kiss to end. I want to revel in it until someone comes and condemns me for being so selfish and weak. I should get out of here. I should run and never come back but I don't have the energy. I have no choice but to face the music. I manage to get a word in when the kiss softens. "Zak...we can't," I breathe against his mouth. My hands come up slowly between us to caress his bare chest. I want to push him away but instead my hands move up and lock around his neck. He hoists me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. "We've already crossed the line Ayanda, so what's there to lose." His voice is hoarse as he kisses down my neck. I get all tingly inside and I know that it's late for me. I've lost this battle already.

When he touches me like this, tugging my clothes off, it's a losing battle for me. I let him have his way with me and before I know it, our play of tongues becomes a play of bodies. He's inside me again and this time it's not at all uncomfortable. It's total bliss actually - fast and spontaneous.

We quickly find our release in an intense wave of sated breaths. I'm a mess as he slides me down to my feet again. And once again, I'm overwhelmed with emotions. The tears finally find a path down my cheeks. I'm crying but I'm not exactly sure what for. I don't want to cry in front of Zak. I want to show him that I'm strong. That, this was my decision, that I've been in control all along but now all I am is a trembling mess. A complete and utter mess as I put my underwear and shorts back on. Zak, like the gentleman that he can be sometimes, helps me fasten my bra and then he plants a soft kiss on my temple.

"Yeah, I knew you'd hate me for this in the morning," he whispers and heads back into the room.

His words make me cringe, maybe it's the way he said them, like he's hurt or something. I put on my blouse and go after him, tugging at his arm so he turns to me.

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you." I practically scream this out. Zak wipes my damp cheek with his thumb and sighs, a pained expression evident on his face as he speaks

"So, you just hate what we did?"

I shake my head. _How can he say something like that?_ How can he not know how much last night meant to me even what we did just now as wrong as it seems, it all holds, a special place in my heart.

"I don't hate what we did Zak. I'm just overwhelmed ok. Last night was new for me, it was..." I can't find the words to finish what I want to say. How do I tell him that last night, he made me feel like a woman and not some stupid little girl? How do I tell him that last night with him was the best night of my life? I bury my face in my hands and force myself to stop crying. I probably look so stupid to him. He tilts my head up, forcing me to look at him.

"Talk to me Ayanda," he pleads. He then leans down and picks up his white sweater from the floor. He weaves it over my head with so much care and I manoeuvre my way into the sleeves. It's a chilly morning so my body immediately appreciates the warmth of the cotton against my skin.

"Thank you," I whisper to him even though I don't think he knows what I'm thanking him for. He looks confused and exhausted. Feeling better now that I'm warm and all cried out, I awkwardly launch myself at him in a desperate hold - surprising him so much that we nearly fall over before he quickly gets a proper hold on me. I don't say anything. I simply give him a long warm hug. I can feel his discomfort so I hold on to him even more, squeezing my eyes shut, silently praying in tongues until he hugs me back.

He hugs me back – he hugs me back and it's exactly what I need. Now, I exhale and close my eyes even tighter, taking him in, the feel of his touch. In his arms it's like the world isn't such a bad and dangerous place after all. In his arms it's like the world isn't colourless like I thought it was last night. In his arms it's like I'm not this terrible person who lets everyone down, this terrible person who causes her own demise. In his arms, I have no fear. In his arms, I'm not a crazy mess who screws up her own life. In his arms all I am is free and safe. I feel secure, like I'm right where I should be. He keeps his arms around me for a long while and I'm grateful. Then slowly, he puts me down again. He raises an eyebrow at me and a ghost of a sad smile plays on his face.

"You're the most exhausting woman on the face of the earth Ayanda, I don't know why I'm so taken with you," he breathes.

"I know and I'm sorry ok, for everything."

"Don't worry about it Ayanda. Just tell me what the hell is going on with you. What happened, last night babe?" He's serious now and it amazes me how he can be smiling one second and then dead serious the next. As usual, I find it easy to talk to him. I let the words pour out of me - I'm talking everything. I tell him what happened with my parents when I dropped a bomb on them, how my dad reacted and all that he said. Zak is impassive the whole time. He just stands there, lending me his ears, listening to my probably annoying word vomit.

"Well coming from someone whose had his fair share of fuck-ups in life. I think you should just get over it," he says and I'm so shocked by his blunt words that I lose my tongue. Zak lets out a frustrated breath and takes my hands in his.

"Remember that day when I forced you to go up the Orlando towers?" he asks and I nod. I keep my gaze on our locked hands now, suddenly nervous. "You were so brave Ayanda and that's really what it's always about, being so brave that, you allow yourself to silence fear, so you can hear your own voice. When I say get over it. I mean move on. Prove to your parents that you made the right decision. Make it count Ayanda. Get your shit together, it's that simple," he adds.

"What if I fail Zak, what if I never amount to anything?"

"It's better to fail on your own accord than on someone elses," he says. Taking in his words, I don't say anything for a long while. We bathe in silnece now and it feels good. Silence with Zak always feels good. Taking my hand, he leads me to the bed where we lay back and stare at the ceiling. After a while of comfortable silence, Zak interrupts it.

"You're not the King of fuck ups Ayanda. I am," he says. I turn on the bed to look at his profile but I don't say anything because I'm just so stunned.

He's opening up to me.

"Look what I did to you last night. It was wrong and we both know it, no matter how much we enjoyed it. It was fucken wrong Ayanda, you were a virgin and I took advantage of you, when all you needed was a friend," his words are blunt but true as much as I don't want to admit it. If there's one thing that I can count on Zak for, it's the truth. He's not the type of man who feels the need to sugar coat things just to avoid hurting my feelings. He doesn't owe me anything even after what we did last night. He knows this and I know this too. I'm amazed by him. Everything about him fascinates me, how strong he is, not just in form and built but in heart and mind too. How he's managed to make lemonade out of all the lemons that life's thrown at him. He's turned his fuck ups into an empire and I can't help but fall. I want to know how he did it. I want to know everything about him. I – I want to be a part of it.

"You needed someone last night and I took advantage of you...I'm sorry Ayanda. I'm an asshole." I squeeze my eyes shut at his words. I can't bear to hear them anymore, especially that part _. Did he take advantage of me?_ Surely not, I made a decision last night. I made a choice. The choice of a woman for the first time in my life \- I made a decision and I'm proud of it. I have to make him understand.

"I didn't need someone last night Zak. I needed you specifically otherwise I could've gone to Khaya or Ash or even Jabu. I needed you Zak. I needed you as a man. I needed you in every way that a woman can need a man."

"I came to you remember? I should've just stayed away from you because you're not mine Ayanda. You're with my brother and I won't let him hate you. If it comes down to it, he has every right to blame me and hate me for what I did to you. He hates me already Ayanda so trust me. I can handle it."

_He cares_. Zak cares about me although we've only just started to know one another. We met a long time ago and we've known of each other for years but we've only now started to connect and get to really know one another in all kinds of ways. He cares about me and he loves his family that much I know. He loves Khaya even though he has a funny way of showing it. Zak loves his brother and it's because of this that I know he deserves to know the truth – well at least - some of it. Knotting my fingers, I brace myself for what I'm about to tell him.

"Zak, what we did last night I did because I wanted to do it."

"Ayanda," Zak interrupts me but I raise my hand and speak over him.

"Khaya is not well Zak, he is sick and he's obviously in – love with me. I love him, I really do but I will end things with him not because of what happened between us but because..." I stop myself, struggling to continue. Zak's eyes are dark and serious as he silently questions me.

"Because?" He questions me when I'm quiet for too long.

"Because, he's sick Zak. He's been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and if he ever finds out what we did, it would break him Zak." Feeling weak, I allow myself to cry. I can't stop crying now and Zak well – he is stunned for a while but I see him take it all in. I know he wants to say something, he wants to question me some more, he wants to yell and shout but he doesn't. After being at war with himself for what seems like forever, he shifts on the bed towards me and just holds me. He holds on to me until I calm. Then slowly, when he feels it's safe to let me go, he does just that. He lets me go, gets up from the bed, finds his clothes, dresses and strolls to the door. Stealing a look my way, he sighs.

"Feel free to have some breakfast, stay as long as you want. Haans will take you home. We have an exhibition to go to later. I'll fetch you at five. Right now – I...I have to go," he says and before I can let another breath out, he's veers out of the room.

Chapter 16

Zak

I'm in Soweto, outside mama's house. I'm actually home again trying to convince myself to just knock on the door. _I have to do this_. This shit is long overdue anyway. I've been back for almost a month and mama still wants nothing to do with me but I have to try. I do it. I knock on the door three times before a surprised Khaya opens it.

"Oh, it's you," Khaya says unenthusiastically.

"I guess? Well damn, nice to see you too bro." I try for sarcasm but get nothing but a shrug from Khaya. He seems distracted and rather in a really bad mood. Seeing him like this puts the whole bipolar thing into perspective for me. I don't know much about the topic but one thing I do know is that, it plays with ones emotions like a rollercoaster ride. I brace myself for the conversation I'm about to push out of my brother. I'm playing big brother today for the first time in years which is sadly ironic because last night my loyalty was out the window when I pushed in on his girl.

"What's wrong?" I ask as I make my way inside uninvited. Khaya looms by the door for a few minutes and then tries to act composed.

"I'm worried about Ayanda. I haven't heard from her since last night when she told me she was at her parents place." _Shit._ I remind myself to keep my cool for my brother's sake and mine.

"Well, maybe she's still at her parent's house. You know women and..."

"No, she's not there ok," Khaya interrupts me, his voice reaching the ceiling.

"I've just come from there Zak. Jabu told me she left after an altercation and they all have no idea where she is. I've called Ashley. No one can get hold of her. I don't know where she is Zak and it's driving me crazy." _Fuck._ Khaya is hysterical and I'm not quite sure how to go about letting him know that Ayanda's fine without looking all kinds of shady. _How do I tell him the truth without actually telling him the truth?_

"What if something happened to her Zak? I've been calling her all morning but her phone is off. It doesn't even ring. I'll never forgive myself if something's happened to her Zak. I should've gone with her to face her parent's. I should've been there for her despite how hard she tried to push me away. She needed me and I wasn't there for her. I should've gone with her." My poor brother goes on and on and on and it's getting kind of annoying, so much that I snap at him.

"She's fine Khaya ok. Relax, she's fine." Khaya stills now, venom in his eyes as he regards me with accusation.

"What do you know about my girlfriend that I don't?" he barks. I don't like the tone of his voice but still, I keep my cool. I've been in business long enough to know that there's always a loop hole, a way out no matter how deep a hole you think you've dug yourself into.

"I got Ayanda a driver. It's part of the job that I offered her. It would require her to travel a lot so I got her a driver. He fetched her from her parents place last night and took her to a hotel." Khaya cocks a suspicious brow at me like he's not buying my story.

"He reports to me - the driver. He reports to me so that's how I know that she's ok," I quickly add.

"Why would she not tell me this? I've been so worried about her." He relaxes now but still, his shoulders sag in disappointment. I tap him gently on the shoulder in an effort to comfort him but he shrugs away from me.

"Look, maybe, she needed some space. Women can get like that sometimes." I take a seat on the single couch, dads couch if I remember correctly. As kids none of us were ever allowed to sit on this couch. It was dads couch - his way of instilling the whole man of the house fear in us. I close my eyes and for once, the good memories fill my thoughts, not the bad ones, the good memories of dad like we knew him before the tragic events of his death when the Nkosi name got tarnished.

"I can't believe this place still looks the same," I say.

"What did you expect, new furniture and renovations? We can't afford that crap." As usual, Khaya manages to throw a rock at me with his words and it fucken stings. He always does this - Every time, I come in peace - he manages to bring out the fight in me. At this point, I don't even care enough to defend myself, I'm just glad we're no longer talking about Ayanda, she's not the reason I came here. I'm overwhelmed with guilt as it is so I force my mind to drift away from all things Ayanda and her soft skin, her thighs, perky breasts, her full lips and her intoxicating moans – shit, I'm thinking about her already. Feeling guilty, I silently curse my overactive imagination.

"Look, I'm not here to fight with you lil bro."

"Then, why are you here Zak? Thembi is not around, mama is gone too. So what do you want?" Khaya snaps. Damn, he really is in a bad mood today. I want to tread softly about my intentions but his attitude is pissing me off so I get straight to the point.

"I know about your condition," I whisper and this gets his attention.

He looks like I've just sucked all the breath from his lungs. Slowly, as if out of energy, he takes a seat on the double couch opposite mine.

"My condition?" his voice is soft, barely audible as he looks at me intently.

"Yes, your condition. How could you not tell me this Khaya? I'm your brother."

"My condition?" he asks again. I nod awkwardly.

"How...how could she do this to me? How could Ayanda tell you this? She's the only one who could've told you. She's the only one who knows. How could she do this to me?"

I look at him in confusion for a second before I catch on.

He probably feels betrayed but once again, this is not about Ayanda. This is about him confiding in me.

"She did the right thing by telling me Khaya. I'm your brother. I have the right to-"

"You don't have the right to know anything," Khaya cuts me off. "You don't have the right to know a damn thing Zak."

"Can you put your pride aside for one second and let me help you?" I plead with him but he doesn't seem to be hearing me.

In a daze, he looks me up and down. "I'm doing ok for myself Zak. I don't need you. I'm doing ok for myself. I can get proper medication now." Shit, he's flipping out on me as he gets to his feet and starts pacing the room. All I see is fury in his bloodshot depths – uncontained fury that's probably been building up inside him for a long time now. He can hardly breathe as he looks at me - lungful after lungful of exhausted breaths. In slow steps, he moves so we're face to face and locks me into a powerful gaze.

"You think because I'm HIV positive I'm somehow unhappy, unhealthy and unstable? I'm healthy Zak...I'm..."

_I'm HIV positive_. What. The. Fuck. My brain shorts out. Khaya is still talking but I'm not hearing a damn thing now. I'm still stuck on the whole "I'm HIV positive" confession. The room is spinning in my vision and it feels like for the first time in my life, my feet will fail me. I hold on to the couch as I try to recollect myself again. Khaya is still talking and the sound of his voice has me overwhelmed, it sounds like terrible background music causing my head to throb. He tugs my arm and forces me to look at him again.

"Let me tell you something Zak. I'm living a normal life, I'm coping. I'm healthy, I'm strong and I most certainly no longer need your help. I'm taking my ARV's every day, so I have no idea what you can do for me. You can't fix this Zak. You were not there Zak...when I needed my big brother. So, I'm over it now." Khaya's voice is hoarse as he stutters like he's been carrying a grudge forever. I can't bear to look at him anymore. Not yet, I'm too afraid of what I'll see. I'm still trying to come into grips with what I've just heard. This feels like dad all over again. This feels like ten years ago, when I walked in on his conversation with ma. I heard everything - his lies, his confession, his talks of HIV and nearing his death bed – That day it all came into perspective for me. Why he was losing weight, getting sick all the time, then of course the suicide. This feels like dad all over again. My heart is being shattered into a million little smithereens all over again. I can't – I can't live through this again, I can't watch my little brother die. My hand comes up to my temple as I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to combust. I want to go off like an atomic bomb and just disappear. And then - like a man defeated, my feet do fail me.

I sink to the floor, head down as I lose the war. I sit on the cold tiles with my knees raised and bury my face in my hands.

"How...how did this happen, Khaya? What are you telling me?" I don't hide the disbelief and anger on my face as I finally look up at my brother. He's taken aback a bit and swallows hard. _Shit._ I think he wants to cry.

"I'm sure Ayanda told you all about it?" he snaps. Unlike, my bipolar brother, I only ever feel two kinds of emotions, I feel just under fine at most days and then just over boiling point on some days - days that belong to the devil himself like today.

Getting up from the floor in despair, I pace frantically - searching for something to do with my hands either than, throwing a hard fist against the wall, feeling my knuckles break. I'm desperate now, anything to let this anger boiling inside of me out. Eying a vase on the table - I reach for it, pick it up and smash it against the wall. It smothers in a thud around us, the flowers falling and the water splashing out. The sound of the glass breaking helps to calm me a bit - just what I needed actually, the sound of something breaking. Khaya wasn't expecting this from me, so he's shaken and unmoving in front of me. He looks like a frightened little boy. Fuck. I just want to make him feel better, I want to make this all disappear for him – but I don't know how to fix it. For the first time in my life I don't know how to fix something.

"Dammit. Khaya, I don't want to believe this. It doesn't even make any sense. Ayanda told me about your bipolar so what the hell are you saying to me? I don't want to believe it. It's not true, it can't be true. Tell me it's not true? HIV? What the fuck Khaya, what the fuck are you talking about?" I yell desperately.

"You - you mean she didn't tell you about the HIV?" he stutters. I cock a cofused brow at him.

"Fuck no, she only told me about the bipolar. What you're saying now though, I just, I don't understand, why would you not tell me this? I'm your brother Khaya. Why would you keep this shit from me all these years?" I lash out at him, putting my hands on my head in disbelief. Khaya is a panicking mess in front of me, trembling with venom in his eyes.

"Because you were not there ok, you were not there Zak. How was I to pin this on you when you were so far away?"

Without thinking, I grab his collar and roughly pin him against the door. He fights me but I'm bigger than him so it's a losing battle for him.

"You didn't stop to think that I would take the first flight back home if I knew you were dealing with this shit ha." I'm not gentle now as I shove at his chest until we're sizing each other up.

"Fuck you Zak," Khaya spits out and I push him back against the door, unrelenting.

"I'm your brother. Dammit Khaya, I'm your brother whether you like it or not. We're blood and I love you and I will always want to help you but how am I supposed to help you if you don't talk to me?" Now, it's Khaya's turn to launch at me. He's quite strong for a small guy. He manages to push me back a few steps, jabbing at my chest in full frontal swings of his own that have him nearly falling over.

"You don't get to be angry Zak. You don't get to do that. Just like dad, you were not there when I needed you," he barks between heavy breaths. He blinks back tears as he continues to jab at my chest until he loses strength.

"Well, I'm here now ok. I'm here Khaya. Talk to me ok. Talk to me, please. I want to help," I plead but still, he strikes at me. I let him assault me because he seems to really want to blow off some steam.

I'm angry, that much I can admit but not at Khaya, more at - myself. For being such a coward all those years back. Running away and letting my brother face the big bad world on his own. It all really makes me feel like shit. I'm angry at dad too for dying on us, for taking his life in front of me. God, I see it again, the blood, the gun. I see it again. I'm angry at dad for bringing this HIV thing into our lives to begin with, now it's like a bad omen, following us at every turn like a generational curse.

I'm angry at dad for being such a man whore and then mama for being married to a cheating bastard of a man like dad in the first place. And now – Khaya – my little brother, the one that I would beat up bullies for and help him climb up trees. It all dawns on me full frontal as my brain starts to function properly again.

_How - How did this stupid virus get my brother?_ As I come back to myself, Khaya is a mess in front of me. He's on his knees, crying against the couch like a broken man. I've never seen a man cry before, so this is kind of hard for me. Once again, I'm numb. I don't know what to do. I want to run. I want to run so far away from all this bullshit but my conscious is screaming at me. _Come on Zak, your brother needs you._

I get on my knees in front of him and manage to find my voice of reason.

"I know. I know that I wasn't there for you but, I'm here now ok. Talk to me bro. Talk to me please." I hate how nervous I sound but at least my words seem to make Khaya's sobs ebb just a bit. He wipes at his damp face with the back of his hand but doesn't look at me as he sits more comfortably on the floor.

"I'm not you," Khaya laughs but there's no humour in his eyes when he finally looks at me.

"I'm not you Zak ok. I've never been that guy who can get his way. I'm not like you. I'm not charming and charismatic. I don't even look like dad. You look just like him Zak - especially now. You look just like dad. A tall, strong Zulu man, he would have been so proud of you. You were his favourite you know and women probably favour you too," he adds and then pauses to clean up his face. I'm quiet and the stillest of still, trying to figure out where he's going with this confession.

"I'm not you Zak. You are smart. You're smart about everything. A soldier who wins the battle, you are a fighter Zak, I'm not that strong. I admit, I'm not that strong."

"You're the strongest person I know Khaya," I tell him but he holds his hand up so I keep quiet. "Let me finish ok, please, let me finish Zak," he breathes. His fingers are doing that weird twitching thing again that I noticed when I first showed up here those weeks back. Feeling uncomfortable, I keep my mouth shut and let him continue.

"You've done well for yourself Zak. You look like dad but you're nothing like him in heart and mind. Me on the other hand, I'm our father's son Zak. And now, just like him, I'm HIV positive. I fucked a girl near End Street a couple years ago when I found out that mama was sick. I paid the girl to fuck me. I was fucked up man and so I went and really fucked shit up. She gave me the virus man. Can you believe it? My first attempt at getting laid and I get the V."

Khaya looks at me and I see no pity in his eyes, no shame too, only guilt and full accountability for his actions. His confession has rendered me speechless. I'm an unblinking mess as he looks at me, waiting for me to say something. I want to lash out at him, lecture him or something but the words won't come. I'm just so stunned. The only thing on my mind is - Ayanda. She obviously knows about this because a few moments ago, Khaya thought she was the one who revealed this big secret to me. How she can accept all of this - is beyond me. How can she be with him? How does she deal with all of this? - The endless highs and lows of Khaya's emotions because of his bipolar. Out of all the men in the world, she's chosen Khaya to be with. Khaya - my little brother whom I've just found out paid for sex and then got infected with HIV is the so called, "love of her life."

"Say something Zak, you're not exactly perfect yourself," Khaya laughs, his voice interrupting my train of thought as I rise to my feet. I suddenly don't feel like being here anymore. I cross to the door and rest my head against it with my hand on the handle.

"So you're just going to run again," he adds. I don't like his tone as usual, it's like he's blaming me for how fucked up his life has turned out. He's blaming me again but this time I won't stand here and take the fall _. I won't take the fall for this, not this time_.

"I'm the bastard right. I'm the bad one in the family. I'm the one that should've gotten the virus right, because I deserve it. I own clubs, the land of the sinners. I'm the bad one and you're the good one right? Is that what you want me to say?" I snap.

"You weren't there for me Zak. I was just a kid. I was tired of all the responsibility on my shoulders – responsibilities that were meant to be yours as the elder son. I was alone Zak, confused and alone. I didn't have a big brother or a dad to show me how to handle growing up and being a man."

Fuck. He sounds like a broken record. I can't deal with this crap anymore. I'm going under, so deep that I don't think I'll ever come back up for air from this one. I want to be there for Khaya, I really do. I want to be able to tell him that everything's going to be ok. I want to be that big brother that he's always wanted me to be but I just can't.

Not today. I can't help but feel emotionally manipulated by his words. All I want to do is get away from here before I lose the little bit of mind that I have left. I want so badly to make things right for this family but it all just seems darn right impossible.

"Go ahead Zak, run like you always do. Run. Just go. Get the fuck away from here already," Khaya yells.

"I love you but I won't take the blame for this. Grow up ok. Just fucken grow up Khaya and be a man." Frustrated, I slam the door as I rush to my car. I hop inside and just drive, not caring where I'm going. I drive for a long time, taking strange turns across the city trying desperately to clear my mind. The pain I'm feeling just won't go away though. I need answers.

***

I drive for a long while until I find myself parked outside Ayanda's apartment. I rest my throbbing head against the dashboard and force myself to calm down. I step out of my car and take the stairs two at a time. Within seconds, I'm knocking on her door like a God damn police officer. Ashley opens the door and I manoeuvre my way passed her shocked pretty little face without greeting.

"Excuse me, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she squeals. God, it doesn't take much effort for this girl to get on my bloody nerves, just the sound of her voice actually. She's looking at me like I'm scum or an annoying piece of gum caught in her heel or something. I'm pacing like a crazy person, breathing erratically as I panic, my hands - in and out of my jacket's pockets as I try to calm down. Now that I'm here, I'm panicking because I have no excuse. I don't know why I came here. I just did.

"Ash, why are you shouting?" Ayanda says from the passage, she's walking lazily with a paint brush tucked above her ear and into her massive hair. She's a beautiful mess. Draped in an oversized no longer white T-shirt covered in paint stains, paint all over her hands too - shit, she's a beautiful mess, a beautiful fucken mess. Her eyes widen when she sees me, clearly taken aback.

"Zak, you said you'd pick me up at five. It's...it's only one," she stutters and fiddles with her track suit pants self-consciously. _Damn, this girl, doesn't she know by now, how beautiful I find her_.

"What's happening at five?" Ashley asks but Ayanda ignores her. She's looking at me, waiting for an explanation but I don't say anything. I just look at her for a long time. I'm not really sure why I came here so I have no explanation. I guess I just wanted to look at her. I thought I was mad at her but now that I'm here, I'm just curious. It doesn't make sense to me at all, why she loves my brother so much. I love Khaya because we're blood, but as I get to know him, he seems more like a manipulator. I guess I want her to tell me why she loves him so much. Maybe then, I'll be able to leave her alone so she can delude herself into a happily ever after with him.

"What's wrong?" Ayanda whispers. I bring my hand up to my throbbing head and close my eyes. I feel her soft hand clasp against other hand. I open my eyes and meet her concerned ones. She's looking into me in that way that makes me feel like, we're lost in an island of our own, just me and her, that way that makes me feel like she really does care.

"What's wrong Zak? Please tell me. Tell me what's going on with you?" she begs.

"Why do you love my brother?" I breathe. I've clearly forgotten that we're not alone because the words just spilled out. Ayanda is impassive. She's unmoving and obviously shocked by my question, embarrassed too that Ashley had to hear that it seems but I don't care. I just need answers.

"Why do you love Khaya?" I ask again. This time Ayanda tugs at my arm and leads me away from Ashley's gawking expression. I follow her to her room where she slams the door after me.

"What is wrong with you Zak? Why would you ask me that in front of Ashley, now she probably knows what we did." She's panicking and again, I'm in awe of her loyalty to my brother. She scrubs a hand down her face, forgetting her filthy hands and gets paint on her cheeks. She squeals in frustration but I'm not letting her off the hook. I need to know. I need to know why she loves my brother so much because to me he seems like an asshole.

"Why? Ayanda, Just answer me." I wipe some of the smudged paint from her cheeks, enjoying the feel of touching her soft skin.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you here Zak?" She's the prettiest little creature when she's angry. I'm tempted to take her into my arms and have my way with her again, buried deep in her walls. God knows I need the release. Feeling like a jerk, I turn away from her and stare at a wet painting that she probably just finished off. It's a dark mirage of colour. Looking at it immediately calms me. The colours delve into my soul and somehow I think the painting feels exactly the way that I do. It's a replica of my darkened heart. _Torment_.

I think she should call this one torment.

"I want to buy this painting," I tell her absentmindedly and she's flabbergasted but I don't give her a chance to reply.

"But first, I want you to make me understand why you love my shit hole of a brother so much." I keep my eyes on the painting the whole time.

"What do you mean Zak? Khaya is not a shit hole. He's the sweetest, most amazing and loving man on the planet," Ayanda breathes and I want to puke at her confession. I'm in asshole mode, so like an asshole, I laugh at her and it seems to annoy her.

"Why are you laughing? I don't find anything funny about this situation. You being here and saying nasty things, about your brother is not remotely humorous Zak...you think that-" She pauses as I cross to her and lean down so we're a breath apart. Taking a deep breath, she continues. "And you know what? This painting is not for sale," she murmurs weakly. Her breathing comes up short and I know she wants me. _Oh, how easily I affect this girl_. With just a mere touch, I wipe a paint stain from her cheek again.

"You're going to sell this painting to me Ayanda ok," I whisper. Shit. I'm just so pissed off at everything and I'm taking it out on her. I get a kick at seeing her worked up actually, so again, I get her off.

"Torment, I think you should name this one - Torment, ok?" I whisper and she surprises me by nodding woozily.

"Now, tell me why you love him? What does he do that I don't? Tell me why you love him Ayanda." She closes her eyes and starts to back away in careful steps. When she looks at me again, she's all coy.

"Because, he's nothing like you ok. He's kind and gentle and honest and loving. He doesn't yell at me like you do, he doesn't ignore me for days without calling." She continues to back away as I step closer. Eventually, I have her cornered against the door.

"He's nothing like you Zak," she murmurs and meets my gaze again. Her words infuriate me.

"He's nothing like you Zak. You're the bad one. Your aura, it's dangerous and strong, very strong. You're like fire but Khaya's my white light, calm and safe." _God_. She's fucken weird this one, talking about aura's and shit. I take her wrists and pin them above her head, so she's a long line of surrender beneath me.

"Your white light ha, does he understand you Ayanda. Those places that you want to go to, does he get it. Does he understand this painting? Does he understand that it's not just a mash of colour but a mash of your soul? Does he know what you want, what you really want, like, how you like to be touched? Does he touch you like this?" I lean towards her, nibbling on her lips softly, just enough to have her panting - then I pull away.

"I'm the bad one right. I'm the bastard. I'm the asshole hey?" I whisper against her skin and much to my demise, she nods. I release her and shake my head. Tears stream down her face and she snorts. She rises on her tippy toes, locks her arms around my neck and leans in desperately but I don't budge.

"Zak, please ok. Fine, I admit it, you're right about Khaya - he, he doesn't do the things that you do but still," she whispers. Her words are not exactly a declaration of love but, they do something to me. I almost give in. I know what she wants. She wants me to kiss her. I want to kiss her but my jealousy and anger towards Khaya is overpowering my hunger for her.

"You're the bad one Zak, you're the guy who'll want me and then probably get bored and move on to the next fascination, the next pretty girl that makes your dick throb. You're the guy who'll break my heart Zak and I won't let you do that to me because I'm no fool. I don't want to give you my heart. You probably don't want it anyway." She laughs now and then shakes her head.

"But I want this Zak. I want this ok, I want the fire, so touch me again," she whispers weakly and practically begs me to kiss her with her pleading eyes and parted lips _. No needy girl, not this time, no kisses from me_...

"You're the bad one Zak and that's ok," she says again when I'm quiet for too long. Her words only add to my frustration, so much that I want to hurt her. I want to make her feel the way that I feel so I bring out the big guns.

"I've never paid a prostitute to have sex with me Ayanda. I've never made an irrevocable mistake like that, asking for death and fucking up my life for good," I bark and release her from my hold. She stills, eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. Fuck, I almost regret my words. I hate seeing her like this. I hate seeing her in pain.

"What are you talking about Zak?" she asks me, eyebrows creased and suddenly very alert.

"I know all about it Ayanda. I know what he did. His - his condition," I breathe. I don't know if I even have it in me to say it out loud. I'm still having difficulty talking about it.

"I know about the HIV Ayanda. I know that Khaya has HIV." I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut in pain because the loud throbbing in my head still won't go away.

"I know that he paid a prostitute to have sex with him and now...now he's sick Ayanda. He's got HIV. He's going to die, just like dad, he's going to die on us and there's nothing I can do to stop it or make it better for him." I don't look at her as I rant. I have my back turned to her but I can hear her sobs.

"What are you saying Zak. I don't understand. Stop lying ok. Stop lying about Khaya, he would never do that. He would never pay a girl to – he - he didn't do that, he wouldn't ok. Eew, that's just gross," she cries. I steal a glance at her over my shoulder and see that she's sunk to the floor, with her head back against the wall.

"Don't play dumb Ayanda because I know you know about this. He told me everything."

"No, you have it all wrong. Khaya would never do something like that. It's sick and twisted. He got HIV when he-" she pauses now and gets up to look at me.

"When he what?" I'm dead serious as she trembles in front of me.

"When he...when he used his mother's needle by accident," she murmurs and doesn't seem to believe her own words anymore.

"You can't seriously believe that. Is that what he told you?" I can't help it. My head falls back in laughter, not a humorous laugh but a sad, defeated laugh.

"Khaya would never lie to me," Ayanda screams, obviously very frustrated. She gets up and slaps me hard across the face. I saw it coming but still, I let her strike me, it stings like a bitch but I don't mind. She tries to hit me again but this time I block her. I catch her hand and she goes ballistic. She shoves at my chest and starts crying uncontrollably. I bring her towards me in a violent jerk and hold on to her as she struggles. She eventually buries her head against my chest and stills, allowing me to comfort her.

"Khaya would never lie to me Zak. He's my friend. He's my white light, he's...he's perfect ok. He's the perfect guy," her voice a small whisper as she cries. I've never been one to beat around the bush and I'll never lie to her. That's just one thing I won't do to her and even now, I'll give her my honest truth even if she doesn't want to hear it.

"He lied to you, Ayanda. Just accept it."

"No. You're the one who's lying," she says, clasping my shirt in a desperate hold. Once again, I'm supposedly the bad one. I'm the liar in her eyes and not Khaya even after all we've discovered today. I'm the bad guy. Khaya is a saint and she apparently loves him so much that she doesn't care about the fact that he has HIV regardless of how he got it. _Fuck_. I want to make her understand where I'm coming from but she's still very hysterical. I tighten my hold on her and give her a shake.

"Stop it Ayanda. Stop fighting this." I lean down and plant a soft gentle kiss on her lips. I pull away before she responds and I feel her relax in my arms. Her teary gaze looking into me, into my soul and I'm lost in her.

"Stop fighting this. Stop fighting me – and us, stop fighting us. I'm not the bad one here, at least not this time," I whisper against her mouth.

"Zak," she pants and leans in to me, closing her eyes. She seems to want me to hold her, so I hold on to her, for a long time, finding comfort of my own too in the process. I listen to the loud thudding of her heartbeat, lulling me into some foreign place where it's just me and her. When she calms, I hold her at arm's length and regard her.

"Ayanda, he's been manipulating you. I'm not saying that you shouldn't love him as a person because I know you've been friends with him for years. He's my brother, I know that he's a lovable guy but, you shouldn't feel obliged to be with him, out of pity or whatever it is you think you feel for him."

She snorts loudly. "I don't feel pity for him. I've never felt pity for him. He's my friend and I trusted him. Just because someone's got HIV it doesn't mean that they don't deserve to be loved Zak or to be happy. A person with HIV can live a normal life, if they take care of themselves and take their medication," she argues and once again, I'm in awe at her loyalty to Khaya. I'm in awe of all that she is. A young woman with a big heart, one who would put herself in such a situation, who would love a dying man out of what, loyalty? _Shit_. I don't know if it's admirable or just plain stupid at this point.

"And you're certain about this, that he can live a normal life?" I ask.

"Yes, I did a lot of research about this when I was studying psychology. I thought my specialty when I finally graduated would be to counsel HIV and Aids patients," she says and wipes at her damp face with her shirt, smudging herself in paint even more.

"What if, what if he dies Ayanda? What if he dies?" I feel stupid for asking her this but I need validation and she seems to know a lot about the subject. She takes my hand and draws patterns on my palm.

"He's not going to die ok." She looks up at me with teary eyes and I see the truth in her but still, I can't help worrying.

"But, what if he does? What if he dies Ayanda? They all die at some point. Dad is gone and he's never coming back. What am I supposed to do without my brother? They all die Ayanda and mama is probably going to die too."

"He's not going to die ok. He's lived with it for years now and so has your mother. You can't give up on them. Promise me that you won't give up on them." She tugs me towards her. I snake my hands over her waist and rest my head against her temple. Closing my eyes, I take in her scent.

"I can't believe he's been lying to me, all these years. He's been lying to me for three years Zak," she whispers. I place a kiss on her forehead.

"So, you really want to buy my painting," she murmurs softly. My tired, exhausted brain wants to zone out, just looking at her makes me feel like I'm already a million miles away. There's some raw emotion in her eyes that I don't understand, it's drawing me in though. I want to lose myself in total bliss with her. I want to bury myself inside her and find that bliss.

"Yep, that right there is my fucken painting Ayanda and you're mine, too," I whisper against her cheek. "Actually, I want you like - right now," I add and again, she's drawn to silence by my words but I see the hunger in her eyes. It's enough to make me act. Within seconds, my lips are assaulting hers in a hungry desperate kiss. She tastes ravenous. Stealing both breath and will, I pick her up as she clings to me. I lead her to the bed and lay us both gently there so she's tucked underneath me. I'm fighting with her clothes as she strains beneath me. I tug her T-shirt over her head and cup her bra clad breasts. My kisses find their way down her cleavage and belly, sending shivers to her sensitive heated skin. She's moaning incoherently. There's, no more words between us, just touch, just kissing and groping.

I'm fiddling with her bra when I hear something, voices that I can't make out properly because I'm under Ayanda's spell. I continue to fiddle with her bra until it snaps, giving me a full mound of bare brown breasts.

Again, I hear voices and this time, the voices are loud enough to distract me from a pair of very delicious breasts. Ayanda's brows furrow and I'm adamant she heard the voices too. Before we can ponder at it any longer, the door swings open - Khaya and Ashley walk in on us.

I swing off the bed in epic speed, looking for Ayanda's shirt. Finding it, I toss it to her and now she's desperately trying to get decent. Just one look at my brother and I know that he's a furious mess. His eyes roam the rumpled sheets and Ayanda's bra on the floor in astonishment. His eyes are puffy and red like he's been crying and berating himself. I don't get the chance to say anything because one minute Khaya is by the door, the next he's coming at me. It is pure wild rage that has him shoving me against the wall with so much force that I cough. Next, I feel the hard charge of his punch to my stomach.

I let him do it. I let him throw in all the punches that he can to my face, stomach and chest. _I fucken deserve this shit._

"No, stop. Khaya stop please," Ayanda screams, scrambling off the bed and running to Ashley. Both girls are smart enough not to interfere though. Khaya's not himself right now even I can see this, who knows what he'd do to them. Between Ayanda and Ashley's screams of panic, I zone out and let Khaya do his thing on me until he tires. Once he's had his fair share of beatings, I shove him off of me with just enough force that he falls on his hands and knees. He comes for me again but this time I block his punch, catching it just before it strikes my face.

"That's enough Khaya, sure I deserved those first few but that's enough," I yell in a rage of my own. Frustrated, Khaya lets out a wild grunt deep from within.

"You just had to, didn't you? You just had to ruin this for me Zak." He looks me up and down but I don't know how to answer him so I don't say anything.

Frustrated, he starts shouting again. "You I can understand, you fucken hate me and you've always been a lousy brother but-" He turns to Ayanda now. "But why Ayanda, why would you do this to us? Why would you ruin what we had? Why did you do this to me?" He gets more enraged when she also fails to answer him. Her lips are trembling but not a sound comes out and she seems to want the world to swallow her.

"Answer me dammit?" he yells and she shakes at the sound of his raised voice. He shoves at the books on her bed stand, papers flying all around him. "Why would you do this to me Ayanda?" He starts crying now, a world shattering kind of cry like he's just lost a loved one or like he's literally in physical pain.

"Why...why would you do this to me Ayanda? I love you and I thought you loved me to. Why won't you love me? I love you with everything that I am as a man," he cries, falling to his knees, rocking himself on the floor like a child would.

"Khaya, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Ayanda crosses to him, kneeling besides him.

"I'm sorry ok," she cries, carefully placing her small hand on his shoulder. At her touch, he goes ballistic, hands flaying everywhere that he almost knocks her over. It's the strangest thing I've ever seen. When he starts pounding on his head with his fists, so hard that his cheeks turn pink, I finally register what's happening here. He's having an attack.

"Khaya stop ok, please, you have to stop. I'm here ok. I'm right here. You have to calm down. You have to take your medication," Ayanda whispers, wiping at her damp cheeks with shaking fingers. She tries to hold him down but fails because he pushes her away and he's stronger than she'll ever be, especially because he's enraged.

"I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy Ayanda!" he yells and now I cross to them. I kneel in front of Ayanda and look into her eyes, showing her that I understand what's going on.

"What do you need?" I ask her.

"I need you to hold him down so I can get his medication," she says and looks over my shoulder at Ashley who's crying herself to a flood.

"I...I'll drive you," Ashley says eventually. Ayanda nods and then reluctantly, she gets up, steals a look my way and then leaves. While the girls are gone, I move slowly on my knees without Khaya seeing me. Crossing to him, I drape my one arm around his waist and then use my free hand to pin his wrists together so he can stop hurting himself. He screams and shouts, fighting me with all his got but I don't relent. I hold him to me until he's powerless. "I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy," he recites to himself with unblinking blood shot eyes. His words turn into a little song and he rocks his head to it, until he tires. I hold on to him, rocking him back and forth like one would a child who's dealt with tremondous trauma. I don't even know what to say to him, what to do besides hold him to me like my whole world depends on it. My whole world does depend on it. This is my brother we're talking about.

"I'm sorry ok. I'm so sorry lil bro," I whisper in his ear but he doesn't seem to be of this world anymore. He's not hearing me. He probably can't even feel my presence or register what's happening to him. My heart breaks all over again. There are so many things that I want to say to him but I know that he's not here anymore. It's too late. He is gone, somewhere far off where I couldn't find him even if I tried. My heart feels heavy and sore. I've never known heartbreak like this – such torment it is - to watch someone you love falling apart like this, losing their mind. For the first time since dad's passing, I almost allow myself to cry – just a little, but my heart hardens again. The tears just won't fall.

I can't cry – I'm too much of a man, I've seen too much, this is not the worst I've seen but it gets to me because it's blood. It's my little brother falling apart and there's nothing I can do to make it go away for him.

When I hear the sound of Ayanda and Ashley's return, I force myself to blink back the tears almost burning the circle of my eyes. I have to be strong – now more than ever, I have to be strong for Khaya and for my girls – Thembi and Ayanda. When the girls walk in, we set everything up and then I watch, powerless as Ayanda helps my brother take his pills. It's like she's done this a million times, it seems so natural to her to force pills down his throat. Once she's done with him, Ashley and I help her tuck him neatly in the bed. He dozes off for a bit and we just stand there – me, Ash and Ayanda, watching him sleep.

"You have to go Zak," Ayanda says nonplussed and I want to die inside. She looks so tired and completely drained. She's all cried out, swollen eyes and damp cheeks.

"I'm not leaving," I reply sternly, unable to look at her when she turns her gaze towards me.

"Please Zak; you shouldn't be here when he wakes up. He'll freak," she pleads but I shake my head.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this. It's not fair. This is my problem Ayanda. He's my brother and I had no idea he's been like this."

"You have to go Zak. I promise you I can handle this," she continues like it's no big deal and I lose it.

"You shouldn't have to fucken deal with this, Ayanda!" I yell and she squeezes her eyes shut, fingers shaking as she brings them up to her probably throbbing head.

"Zak is right Aya. You don't have to do this anymore," Ashley says and for once, she's on my side. Khaya swirls on the bed, coming out of sleep. He outstretches his arm and starts looking around in panic, eyes wide and hauntingly searching.

"Ayanda," he calls out and she's by his side immediately in epic speed like her life depends on it. She's all robotic and numb, like she's functioning on auto pilot or something.

"I'm here ok. I'm here Khaya," she whispers, wiping at his damp face.

"Ayanda, I need you," Khaya whispers. He tugs her down and she falls on top of him, plumping beside him like his favourite doll. Then he squeezes her into a suffocating hug. I watch them – Ayanda and Khaya, for a long time I just watch them, making a study of the situation until it hits me. He's sick - this is why she's loyal. That much is obvious. She's his person and he knows this. She's his person and she'll do anything for him. Well, he's never really had anyone else so it makes sense that she would look out for him all these years. He is sick in all kinds of ways and it's not his fault but it is his fault when he uses her as his crutch all the time. One day – I fear that he'll suck her so dry that she'll have nothing left inside of her. Maybe in the beginning it was out of friendship and love but now it just seems more like it's out of desperation and control. He wants to keep her. He controls her like this, makes her feel responsible for him but it's enough now.

I. Am. Here.

Khaya's dozing in and out of sleep with a firm grip on Ayanda the whole time. It's like she's his I.V line in a hospital or something. Maybe she is. Maybe she's his life support but I won't stand for it anymore. I won't allow her to live her life like this and I won't allow my brother to fight this battle all on his own anymore. I. Am. Here.

"Ayanda, I won't allow you to take on this burden anymore, not while I still have breath in my lungs, do you hear me?" I tell her.

"Zak, please. You have to leave," she begs but I'm not having it.

"No Ayanda. I'm calling a doctor and I'm having my brother admitted for proper care at a proper hospital." Without another word, I'm on the phone, talking to my guys about arranging a treatment program for Khaya.

"You need to figure yourself out Ayanda," I tell her before I leave.

Chapter 17

Aya

I'm at my parent's place, sitting on the couch with my dad while he reads a news-paper. I've been here for three weeks now, I came rushing to my parents after the heavy altercation with Khaya and Zak turned my soul asunder. I was a mess that afternoon, not even Ashley could comfort me. After Zak's people came over and took Khaya away, all I needed was my dad. I needed his reassuring presence and comfort. I'll never forget it. I'll never forget what it was like to watch those people take Khaya away like he's some mentally ill psychopath. He fought them. He fought them as best he could – my white light, he fought them but they tied him up. They tied him up and forced him to lose himself in his nightmares. I've always known that this would happen. I've always known that eventually they would take him away but never did I ever want the day to come. Never did I ever want to fully admit that Khaya is seriously not well. I guess I was never strong enough to help Khaya get some proper help. I never strong enough but Zak was. Zak was strong enough for the both of us, Khaya will hate him for it but he did the right thing. He helped his brother.

And so now, I'm home. These past three weeks have been peaceful given what I've just gone through, especially given the fact that I don't have a phone, so staying away from Khaya, Zak and even Ashley has been rather easy. Now, all I have to do is figure out how I'm going to put my life back together again. How I'm going to fix myself for a change.

I have no job, no money and no qualifications. All I have is my art and my paintings. _Shit, my paintings_. I had forgotten that Zak's driver, Mr Haans Petersen had taken my paintings that other afternoon when Zak told me that he would put them up for sale at the launch of The Muse, which is happening this weekend apparently. _I want my paintings back_. The prospect of selling my work seems rather intimidating now.

Would Zak even still want to sell my work? Does he even still want anything to do with me?

I haven't heard from Red ever since that horrible nightmare of a day when he walked out of my room pissed off as hell about the situation. He hasn't tried to contact me and I haven't tried to contact him. All I know is that the launch is this Saturday.

"Ayanda, are you alright?" my dad asks. Only now, I realize that my dad's been watching me. I'm relieved though by the sound of the door opening when Jabu walks into the room. It's a Friday, so I guess he got off work early. He's wearing a stupid grin on his face as he approaches us.

"Chilled day at the hospital?" I ask him.

"Hardly, I'm not on call today so I thought I'd come home early and spend the day with my sister." He hands me a packet.

"For you little sister," he smirks. I open the packet and pull out a small yellow box. After observing it with furrowed brows, I open it and find a cell phone, not just any cell phone. It's one of those cheap mobile devices. Jabu's smile widens as he sees my reaction. He did this on purpose - the little bugger.

"Seriously, what kind of a doctor are you anyway? I thought doctors were supposed to be getting the big bucks," I tease and get a chuckle from both Jabu and my dad.

"That's what you get for smashing your phone against the wall Aya," dad says and gets up from the couch. "I have to go fetch your mother from work," he adds.

Jabu and I nod at the same time and watch him leave. My dad is strong and fit for an old man. It's quite impressive actually. Jabu then takes a seat next to me on the couch and takes my hands in his. Growing very serious, he tugs at a strand of my braids.

"You know that I love you right?" he says and I frown. "Of course and I love you too Jabs."

"So, you know that I only want what's best for you and that I can't help worrying about you especially with all that's happened right?" he says and understanding comes to me. I know exactly what he's talking about and although it makes me uncomfortable, I don't show it.

"I'm assuming you spoke to Khaya at the hospital," Jabu nods and gives my hand an assuring squeeze. He then tugs me so I rest my head in the crook of his arm. It feels amazing to have my brother's comfort. We've been fighting a lot lately so I've missed him terribly.

"Look. As a doctor, I know a lot about Khaya's condition. He can live a normal life, he has been living a normal life and he's healthy but as your brother, I don't want you to put yourself at risk. I want you to be happy Ayanda and if you feel that you don't want to be with Khaya in that way then that's fine. Your happiness is all that matters to me Ayanda."

His words have me feeling putty in his arms, so much that I pour my heart out to him. It feels good to talk to my brother like this again.

"I love him Jabu. I love Khaya. I really do but I just can't do it anymore. I feel like he needs to learn how to live without me. He needs me too much and sometimes it scares me. It's like, he's put this pressure on me to be his everything and I don't think I'm strong enough for that. He needs to learn to carry his cross on his own, without me for once and well, I'm not sure what being in-love is supposed to feel like but I know that it's not supposed to hurt this much or feel like a burden. It's all so weird because I do love him. I'll always love him."

"Sometimes, love is not enough Ayanda. What you should be focusing on right now is yourself, your life and figuring out what you want," Jabu says.

Geez, what do I want?

I'm amazed by how quickly the answer comes to me though. I want Zak. Plain and simple but I can't exactly tell my brother this bit of truth. At this rate I'm not even sure if Zak still wants me yet along if he wants to work with me at all.

_Shit._ I remember my paintings again and my heart breaks. I want them back. I want my bloody paintings back but I have no way of contacting Zak. My brain is screaming at me as I think of my encounters with Zak. Then I think of his driver. Well, supposedly "my driver." I think of when the old man gave me his card with his contact details. _Shit, where the hell did I put that phone card_. I'm jumping off the couch like a fish out of water now and Jabu is regarding me with a startled expression.

"What the hell Aya," he says but I ignore him.

I head to my bedroom and go through my clothes. Everything is splattered on the carpet in a pile. I'm looking for the denim shorts I had on that day when Haans dropped me off. Finding them, I fiddle through the pockets and to my enlightenment, the card is still there. Relieved, I rush back into the living room.

"Jabu can I use your phone?"

"I bought you a phone, remember?" he gushes but I'm not in the mood to play games. I'm a woman on a mission to get her life back in order, starting with those damn paintings.

If Zak doesn't want them anymore then I will have to find a way to make shit happen for myself - on my own. I think I'm more than capable of negotiating deals for myself with many art galleries. The thought excites me and I'm now filled with new found strength and joy at my future prospects.

"Seriously Jabs. I just want to make a quick phone call. It's a matter of life and death," I tell him and he gives me a questioning look. My brother is very good at reading people and then miraculously putting the dots together. I guess it comes with being a doctor, that skill of his works on level one thousand when it comes to me. He reads me like a book, he's always been able to do that and he's doing it right now.

_Damn you Jabu_.

"Ayanda, I know that I can't tell you what to do but as your brother and as a man I can advise you. When it comes to men - men like Zak especially, you have to be smart. He's one of those stupid men who think they own the world just because of their wealth. I want you to be happy Ayanda but please tread softly."

As much as I know my brother means well, I'm just so tired of everyone thinking that I'm incapable of making my own rationalized decisions. This is my life and now more than ever, I finally understand that this is my life. This is my life and that's all that matters. My life, my mistakes, my joy that I keep allowing people to steal from me but enough is enough.

"Your phone, Please," I beg Jabu as calmly as I can because deep down inside, I know he means well. He's just being a brother, over-protective and all, so I force myself to be immune to what he's just told me. To my relief though, he hands me his Samsung.

"Let me know if you need anything ok," he murmurs before he kisses my cheek and gives me some privacy. Feeling better, I smile after him as he ducks into the kitchen. Alone, I dial the number on the card anxiously. It rings twice before the old man answers.

"Hi, uhm, Mr Haans Petersen?" I ask.

"Speaking," he responds gravely and I swallow hard. "It's Ayanda. Ayanda Miya, the girl that you dropped off a few times." I hear his low chuckle.

"Yes, yes Miss Miya. How are you?" he asks. I don't want to drag this conversation so I get straight to the point.

"I'm well thanks Mr Petersen. I'm calling about my paintings, the ones that you picked up from my apartment three weeks ago. I'd really like them back." There's a long pause on the line and I hear voices in the back ground.

"Miss Miya, could you please, hold on for a minute or two," the old man says and I panic.

_What the hell is going on?_ I hold on the line for what seems like forever before a female voice with an annoying coloured accent responds to me. _Clementine._

"You can't have your paintings back," she says. Shit, I frown. _Great! Just freaken great._

"What do you mean I can't have my paintings back? I want my paintings back." I'm fuming so loudly that Jabu steps back into the living room. He cocks a concerned brow at me and bites on his sandwich.

"You can't have your paintings back because they've been sold," Clementine explains. My tongue shoots back in my throat and words fail me. I'm shocked but it's a good kind of shocked. My heart does a little dance as I come back to myself.

"Don't worry. You'll get paid of course but only after the launch this Saturday. You are coming right?" she asks me. Like an idiot, I ask the dumbest thing ever.

"I...am I invited?" I stutter. Clementine laughs and I can't help but smile.

"You're our muse remember? I'm not letting Zak fuck this shit up just because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. I've worked too hard, so you better get your skinny little ass here come Saturday. I'll email you an invite," she adds and I'm grinning from ear to ear when she ends the call. _I sold my paintings_. I. Sold. My. Paintings.

Jabu crosses to me and I throw myself into his shocked arms, uncaring about the fact that his chicken mayo sandwich is staining my blouse. "I sold my paintings," I yell in excitement. Jabu puts me down and does an up and down observation of me. "Really?" he asks. "Yes Jabs." I'm jumping up and down like a school girl who's just been asked out to the dance by the most popular guy.

"You're coming with me to the launch. You're my date Doctor Miya. You're my date for the biggest night of my career," I gush to my confused brother.

Chapter 18

Zak

We're in the heart of Soweto, in an abandoned warehouse that I found and renovated. This is not the official venue for The Muse but I wanted to have the launch here, the eerie feel and rusty image of the place spoke to my artistic soul. I'm standing backstage, waiting to make the opening speech. Guests are starting to arrive as the live band I've hired to play starts their set. I've never been a shy guy but tonight, I'm feeling extremely nervous about addressing the crowd. _Fuck_. I even wrote damn speech cards for crying out loud, now I can't even seem to memorize my own words. I throw the damn cards on the floor and I'm startled by Clementine's low chuckle.

"Why did you write a speech, just speak from the heart Zak. I know how much this means to you so, just speak from the heart ok," she says in between giggles. She looks ravishing and for once she's not wearing a dress that looks like it is two sizes too small for her full figured frame. She's draped in a knee length black halter dress that makes her look so much like the assistant of a CEO that she kind of is. I don't know what I'd do without this girl. While I was out half way across the world moping about all the fucked up shit in my life, Clementine took care of shit. She planned this whole launch while I ran away to Rome, my favourite destination to seek out artistic inspiration, in an attempt to escape all the Khaya and Ayanda drama that I've gotten myself mixed up in. Clementine took care of everything - sent out invites and even managed to pre-sell a couple of pieces to some very generous international buyers. As she crosses to me, I wonder how long she's been standing there watching me.

"They're almost ready for you in there, birthday boy. In fact they've showed up in numbers." Reaching me, she fiddles with the black bow tie of my tuxedo. I raise a brow at her and then frown.

"Is this your way of making me feel, better?" I ask and her head falls back in laughter.

"No. Just came to check on you. You've been out here for a while. You should be in there welcoming the guests. This is your night remember and it's your birthday Zak. I want you to have fun." Her words are true so I don't argue but damn, I'm a nervous wreck and I don't feel like a fucken birthday boy at all.

Twenty nine doesn't feel so great so far. I'm a mess and Clementine being my best friend as usual, sees this. Rising on her tippy toes, she places a kiss on my cheek. I close my eyes for a second, reminding myself to breathe.

"I need a moment ok," I explain.

"I know. You'll be fine Zak. Everything will go well tonight ok. Everything is taken care of. Just get your butt in there when you're ready." Without another word, she turns to leave but I stop her, tugging her back towards me. I cup her face and look into her eyes.

"Thank you. Thank you for this, for everything. I couldn't have planned it better myself." She gives a knowing smile, like she's remembering a secret joke or something. There's something she's not telling me but I'm on the edge, so much that I don't have the energy to force it out of her.

"For your sake, I hope it's about to get better. You're here Zak but you're not actually here. You're a million miles away. I want you to embrace this so hopefully, you will come to yourself again when you see how many people have showed up just to share this moment with you," she says. Again, I feel like she's talking in codes. I ponder on it when she heads back inside. She's right, I'm too fucken distracted. It's all just seems pointless actually.

No one I care about is here with me tonight. No one I love is here tonight to support me, only Clementine, my dear old loyal Clementine. It will always be her. I'm alone. So much for family, I suck at the whole family thing anyway. I always screw it up.

Not even Ayanda, someone whom I thought at least understands what it's like to be in the dark is here with me tonight to share the spotlight with me. The lights on her too tonight if only she knew. Her work is on show for the first time in her life. She has the chance to get a glimpse of what it feels like to be in the light but she'd rather not taste it if it means being here with me? The music from the live band comes to an end. Shit. I panic as I hear the MC speak over the fading music. _You can do this Zak. You can do this_. My brain is screaming at me.

"Fuck, it's now or never," I whisper to myself, bending to pick up my speech cards from the floor. In frustration, I actually sit on the red carpet of the floor without much care of the fact that I'm wearing a very expensive Balmain suit. As I fiddle with my cards, my drawn gaze makes contact with a pair of small feet - size fives I think - covered in pink stiletto pumps heading my way.

My heart leaps to my throat - eyes shoot up in disbelief at the person wearing those delicate shoes. The creature that is woman standing before me is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She's draped in a long flaring tribal patterned dress that exposes the beautiful brown skin of her shoulders, neck and cleavage. Her hair is braided and styled in an up bun of a hairstyle like an African princess. She's the most beautiful of creations. The reason for the thousand deaths I've been experiencing every day for the last three weeks - in fact ever since I met this creature, I've been dying inside. To me, she's a creature because there is none like her in all of the earth.

Ayanda - The strangest woman I've ever met. Ayanda - My Muse, my favourite mistake and the only woman I want to love.

_She's here. She's actually here_. Her eyes do an observation of me with hooded eyes.

"Hi, uhm, hey...Clementine told me you were out here," she stutters nervously. She seems a little weirded out by the sight of me sitting on the floor in a tuxedo but she tries not to show it. I quickly get on my feet though, uncaring about my bloody speech cards anymore.

"Hi," I say simply but my voice comes out a little weird. I don't recognize the nervous baritone in my voice. I must really be on the verge of insanity tonight. Forcing myself to recover from the spell of her beauty, I remember that I'm actually really pissed off at her. Seeing her tonight has only confirmed my deepest fear though. _Love, could it be? Could it be that I love this girl?_ Maybe, I do fucken love her. In fact, I think I'm so in-love with her that I can't sleep at night without her dancing in my dreams. I'm in-love with her but I'll never tell her this because she's chosen Khaya over me. That's the reason I'm mad at her, she's chosen him over me that much was obvious that afternoon. _What can he give her that I can't?_ I just don't understand it. I don't understand this woman.

"Why are you here Ayanda? I heard Khaya was discharged from the hospital. You should be with him."

I'm all kinds of serious but my words do nothing to her. She's impassive and is looking at me dead in the eyes.

"I supposedly sold a few paintings so I just thought I'd stop by," she says humorously but I'm not in the mood.

"What? You think I'm not going to pay you?" I lash out. I reach for the check book in the inside pocket of my blazer and start writing out an amount for R250 000. I hand it to her without saying a word. She takes it and scowls at me when she reads it.

"Seriously Zak. You think I want your money?"

"It's your money Ayanda," I explain. She squeezes her eyes shut and when she opens them again. I don't see anger or fury like I was expecting, I see something else, something that I don't recognize and it moves me. I can't keep my eyes off of her as she neatly folds the check and leans in to slide it back into my pocket.

Her touch.

Her touch immediately affects me and my mouth goes dry. I don't trust myself to speak so I leave the ball in her court for once.

"I don't want your money Zak," she says, her fingers fiddling with my blazer jacket and then up to my shirt and bow tie _. Damn_. Women and bow ties though, it's never prefect in their eyes.

"It's not my money, it's yours Ayanda. You earned it. You're a hit. Everyone loves your work," I tell her as calmly as I can pretend to be because it's the truth. This girl is bloody talented. She's looking at me with serious eyes filled with that raw emotion that makes me extremely uncomfortable but also extremely fascinated.

"I know that it's my money Zak but that's not what I want right now, that's not why I came here." She's making me so nervous that I feel like an idiot. Like one of those lame guys who get friend-zoned. I'm not recognizing myself tonight, I feel so far away from who I really am or who I thought I was.

"Then what do you want Ayanda?" This comes out a little more harshly than I intended but still, she's not shaken. She's confident, in control and for once she's not a crying mess in front of me. I'm impressed by her new found strength or maybe, she's always had this attribute and I just haven't known her long enough to see it.

"I want -" she sucks in a breath and looks away not out of fear or nerves but out of stalling.

"I want to - tell you why I did what I did," she breathes finally.

"What are you," I lose my sentence when she takes my hand in hers. My tongue shoots up to the roof of my throat and I stop talking. I think I can only process one thing at a time tonight, so her touch is all that's on my mind when she touches me. Her beautiful, soft hands in mine – that's all I can process right now.

"Don't say anything until I finish ok," she whispers and I find myself nodding like a good boy who's just been scold. With her big brown gaze looking into me like this, I think I'd do anything she desires. She's drawing patterns on my palm with her finger and I keep my gaze there, we both keep our eyes fixed on our linked hands as she speaks.

"I want to tell you why I did what I did with you. I thought I did it because I'm selfish and because Khaya wasn't giving me what I needed or maybe because you somehow put an invisible gun to my head and forced me to sleep with you. I also then thought that maybe you have some magical power over me that drew me to you, which is stupid right?" She looks adorable and I have no words because I have no idea where she's going with this crazy talk of hers. I let out an exhausted sigh.

"What are you saying Ayanda? If you're going to break my heart, just be blunt about it."

She smiles and it's enticing. This woman in front of me - so brave and so confident starts talking again and I'm all ears. I've never seen her like this – so calm, so confident and so sure of her-self and everything.

"I love Khaya and I-"

"Ayanda if you came here to tell me how much you love my brother then we have nothing to talk about," I interrupt her. I try to free my hand from hers but she's not having it. She tugs my arm and pulls me back towards her.

"God, Zak. Can you just let me finish?" She rises on her tippy toes and traps my face in her small hands. I'm unmoving as her serious gaze implores me, willing me to listen. I let her fingers brush against my face in the most gentle and intoxicating of touches but I don't look at her. I can't look at her now.

"Zak, look at me please," she begs, letting her guard down a little so that I see the emotion in her eyes. I don't want to see her cry. I don't think I can handle anymore tears from her. She's doing so well though, I don't think she's going to cry.

"Zak, Zak look at me please," her voice a gravely whisper now as she pleads with me again. I force my eyes to lock with hers and there it is again. That raw serene emotion in her eyes that I don't understand, hypnotizing me and I can't look away anymore. Once she's certain that she has my undivided attention, she starts talking again, all serious and astute. I feel like I'm in the midst of a first world women's feminism movement.

"We live in a world where society shames women for being sexual beings when in fact, we're all born sexual beings whether male or female, only men have the freedom to express themselves without being oppressed. Women are either shamed or put on display as objects no matter how we go about it, saint or not. We are always expected to feel bad about it," she explains. The corners of my mouth curve into a slight absentminded smile and she tilts her head, surprised by my reaction. Not pondering on it too long, she starts talking again and I couldn't be more proud of her.

"The power is never in our hands Zak. So basically what I'm saying is that, never have I felt more in control of what I'm doing and what I want than that moment when I decided to give myself to you. I did it because I wanted to do it, and I guess my body knew something that my heart didn't at the time." She pauses now and my gaze meets hers in a knowing look. I'm so fucken proud of this girl. She's everything that I want in a woman. She's smart, confident, strikingly beautiful and unapologetic.

I've been waiting for this. I've been waiting for her to take accountability and own up to, who she is and what she did, most importantly, what we did. Now, here she is in front of me, beautiful and brave. I kind of have an idea of what she's trying to say, maybe that's why my heart has stopped beating for a few seconds. I'm in awe of this woman. She leans in to me and stares at me, boldly and unashamed.

"Zak, I'm trying to tell you that..." I don't let her finish. I'm not gentle. I'm not tender when I yank her against me, nearly off her feet so I can kiss her. I kiss her – I kiss her with fevering hunger like a man starved because truly I've been left famished without this woman. She lets me in despite her shock.

_She lets me in_. It amazes me how quickly her body responds to mine. It's like we're one somehow, like we were made to love one another. Releasing her, she exhales and looks rather dazed.

"Zak, I...I think, I think I'm in-love with you, although I'm not really sure what it feels like to be in-love. I'm a bit green at this, so bear with me ok. All I know is that, you're inside me and I'm tired of fighting it," she says, barely breathing and all I do is look at her.

"I just wanted you to know, what you do about it, is completely up to you," she quickly adds, still trying to catch her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, doubting, herself again.

_Love_.

Only now, her words shoot inside me like a bullet _. She's in-love with me. Ayanda is in-love with me._

The realization has me pulling away struggling to put some space and air between us. _She loves me._ This woman actually loves me. Ayanda's wide eyes are locked on mine. She's still recovering from our kiss but still, she's looking at me with curious frightened eyes. I think she's waiting on me to say something. Fuck, of course she's waiting on me to say something. I scrub a hand down my face and close my eyes. This is too much for me. I don't recognize the strange emotions surging through me. It's all so scary, it's like some unknown pull of energy is in control of me. Stepping towards her again, I touch her chin.

"I'm sorry," I whisper against her mouth.

"Don't be sorry ok. Don't be sorry Zak. I just wish you could tell me, what I see in your eyes every time you look at me. What I know you feel when you kiss me. I just wish you could tell me Zak. If you can't tell me...then that's ok too," she quickly says. Her voice breaking as she takes my hand in hers again.

"Fuck, Ayanda, you're killing me," I confess. She laughs now - a low sad laugh that grips me into submission. "I'm sorry Ayanda, I really am."

"Don't be sorry ok, the heart does what it wants Zak. My heart, well, my heart chose you. I love you Zak and I don't expect you to say it back or feel the same way. I just wanted to let you know. I wanted to be honest with myself and with you...that's all, but I don't want you to feel obliged to feel anything for me ok," she confesses and I want to burst inside. I feel like such an idiot.

"I'm so fucken proud of you Ayanda," I tell her and she sighs.

"I don't deserve you. There's too much noise around us," I add. A single tear escapes down her cheek and I reach down to wipe it away. Finally, she's crying.

"No more tears ok, I don't think I can stand to see you cry anymore. No more tears Ayanda." My hand lingers on her cheek until she leans in to my touch. "I obviously want to be with you Zak but if you're not ready then that's ok. I don't care about all this noise around us. I just know what I feel."

_God_. Her words pierce through me and find a way to lock deep inside my heart for keeps. I lean down so we're a hairsbreadth apart and give her a determined look. I'm terrified as fuck at what she's just said but I'm not about to be a coward, not when it comes to this girl. I've been a coward before, running away at the first sight of anything that makes me feel weak and powerless. I've been a coward before but not anymore. I want this girl. I want her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

"Look, Ayanda. If we're going to do this then, you have to know that it's going to be hard. You have to know that, I'm going to love you. Fuck. I do love you - a lot, so much that it scares me. I'm going to love you but in the midst of it all, I might screw up because I am only a man, a man who's never given his heart to a woman before so I'm not really sure what's expected of me. You also need to know that we will probably have to fight a lot of people's disapproval. I love my brother, I really do and I want him to get well, to find happiness and live a long, well fulfilled life. I love my brother but I also love you now. Your family, my family, the whole lot of them will make a lot of noise about us. It has to be me and you Ayanda ok. Me and you and nobody else ok, no matter how loud the voices get." She nods in complete submission and places her hands over mine that have her face trapped.

"Me and you, Zak. Me and you," she whispers. "Me and you, Ayanda," I assure her and plant a quick peck on her lips. I drape my arms around her and she buries herself in the crook of my embrace.

"No more tears ok," I whisper and kiss her forehead when she looks up at me.

"These are good tears Zak, the kind of tears that remind us we're alive," she says and she's never been more accurate. I'm so fucken proud of this girl. She finally knows what she wants. She wants art. She wants painting but most of all, she wants me.

Never have I felt more alive than I do right now. I then take her hand and lead her towards the light with me. I lead her to the beginning of her career and the beginning of the rest of our lives. Ayanda – my, beautiful muse.

### End###

Zak and Ayanda's story continues in book 2 of The Crimson Series, this time, Khaya also has a voice.

Excerpt from Crimson Death (The Crimson Series #2)

Khaya

Everything feels heavy. Just the act of lifting my arm feels like way too much work. I feel powerless. Subdued to a bed that's awfully too small even for a small built guy like me. The colours within my vision as I try to open my swollen eyes are dull and grey, lulling me back to sleep.

Where am I?

My whole body feels sore. I am as powerless as a man can be. My skin and bones hurt like I've been sleeping on concrete for days. I blink rapidly trying once more to fully open my heavy eyelids to no avail. A stench overwhelms me and my eyes water. Bleach - too much fucken bleach fills my nostrils as I inhale suffocated breaths of air. The sheets pulled up to my waist look and feel way too clean to be my own.

Am I...am I in a hospital?

The realization dawns horrifically. I suddenly notice the IV line plucked to my veins as my tired eyelids force themselves open. The shock of it all has my eyes rolling back in my head. I gag on my own spit, barely able to breathe a lungful of air. There's a blinding light seeping in my direction. Noises go off in my head, sounding distant as my brain comes to functionality. I shift and swerve on the bed unable to calm my weak body. I feel nauseas. My stomach churns and turns itself inside out, until I can't keep it in anymore. Like a kid in diapers, I spill on myself.

I am powerless.

Feeling sick, I let out the sick contents of my stomach even more now, like a hose with no pressure. My sheets are draped in vomit. The strong sick stench of my insides fills the whole room. Looking down at myself, I'm overwhelmed with embarrassment. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I internally fight with myself.

Look, what I've become?

As good as a cripple swimming in his own vomit, is what I am.

What am I doing here? How did this happen? Where is my family? Where is ma and Thembz, Ayanda and...Where is Ayanda?

So many unanswered questions sifting in my pounding head, I don't know how to deal, so I fist my palms and punch at my head.

What am I doing in a fucken hospital room? I want out, not just out of this strange hospital but out of life in general. I have no reason to live, not without her. My life support, my lithium, I need her more than I need to rid myself off this pain.

Ayanda.

I miss her. I miss her with every fibre of my being. I need her even if she doesn't need me anymore. I'll be her friend again - no strings attached. I just need her in my life. I need her, even if she wants to be with Zak. I need her more than I want to hate her. I need her more than I hate my brother. God knows I hate Zak, but still, if she wants to be with him it's cool with me as long she comes back to me. I need her in my life.

I need to breathe again.

Long days and endless nights have been my companion as of late. It's like I'm swimming in the middle of the sea somewhere. Swimming and swimming but never reaching shore.

I need you Ayanda.

Acknowledgements

I would just like to thank my Lord and saviour Jesus Christ for blessing me with an awesome gift for writing. I would also like to thank my family, all of you are amazing. Starting with my mom that I hope doesn't ever read this book lol for obvious reasons. The thought makes me feel all kinds of exposed. She'll finally realize how crazy her daughter is, if she reads this shit. My siblings, Sheila, Gladys, Kim, Kedy and baby Ray, keep grinding, chasing your dreams and doing it big for the Mazz family. To my friends, all of you are amazing and once again, thank you for tolerating my tagging and strange requests asking you all to read an excerpt or two. Much love to everyone who knows me, whether personally or through social media, your support is greatly appreciated and never be afraid to connect with me. I'm hoping you will all leave a great honest review after purchasing this book. Go on Amazon and rate this book and then leave an honest review. Crimson Muse holds a special place in my heart, because, it's the first time I've ever put aside my fears of being judged or seen in a different light when writing. I've written so freely, baring it all and just breathing life into these bad ass characters of mine. This is the first instalment of a three book series. "Crimson Death" is book 2 and will follow real real soon. Then, the final book titled "Crimson Storm" will be released later on in the year. Much love and don't forget to connect with me on social media.

Twitter: @Jan_Art_

Facebook fan page search: Jan ART

Blog: http://singwriterecite.wordpress.com

About the author/artist

Janneth Mazibuko is a word addict, song chaser, art seeker and part-time poetess hailing from the South of Johannesburg South Africa. She is also a girl geek lover of knowledge, guitar owner who wishes she could play her own damn guitar, singer-songwriter, love giver, free thinker, cheese lover and hopeless romantic. Sometimes she's a visitor of Jupiter by night, her ideal time to create all things artistic.

P.S she actually goes by Jan Art on most occasions, so halla at her.

Find her on Twitter: @Jan_Art_
