Annabel
“You’re insufferable,” I snap, slamming the cupboard door harder than necessary. The sound ricochets through the airy kitchen, breaking the serene quiet of the late afternoon.
Jonathan leans against the counter, his arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “And yet, you can’t seem to stay away.”
Jonathan’s parents are away, leaving us to turn their pristine Nantucket cottage into our own little sanctuary—or battlefield, depending on the day. Right now, it feels like the latter.
“Because we’re stuck here,” I retort, turning to face him. “If I had a choice, believe me, I’d be anywhere else.”
His smirk falters, but only for a second. “Anywhere else? Really? Tucked under Calum’s arm like a prized possession?”
My stomach twists, his words hitting a nerve I hadn’t realized was exposed. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Jonathan.”
“Jealousy?” He laughs, the sound sharp and humorless. “Don’t flatter yourself, Annabel.”
“You’re the one who can’t stop picking fights,” I say,stepping closer. “If you’re not jealous, then what is it? Boredom? Resentment?”
His jaw tightens, his smirk replaced by something darker, more dangerous. “Maybe I’m tired of watching you play the same game over and over.”
“And what game would that be?”
“The one where you act like you’re above it all,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Like you don’t care about the mess you leave behind, the people you hurt.”
He closes the distance between us, one hand wrapping around my neck as he holds me in place, his lips connecting with mine in a kiss that demands my submission. I give in, only for a moment, before I push him off. My breath catches, but I refuse to let him see the crack in my armor.
“You should by kissed by someone that knows how–and often. Not by boys, but by someone who knows what you need.”
“Don’t pretend you know me, Jonathan.”
“Oh, I know you, Annabel,” he says, his gaze locking onto mine. “Better than Calum ever will. You’ve known him a year and me a lifetime.”
The silence that follows is suffocating, thick with unspoken words and emotions too tangled to unravel. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, the door swings open, letting in a gust of salty air and the sound of Calum’s familiar whistle.
He steps into the kitchen, a canvas tote slung over his shoulder and a smile lighting up his face.
“I found the paints,” he announces, his tone cheerful and oblivious to the tension simmering in the room.
“Perfect,” I say quickly, my voice too bright. I cross the room to meet him, letting his presence wrap around me like a shield.
He drops the bag on the counter and pulls me into hisside, his arm draping over my shoulders. The warmth of his touch is both comforting and stifling, a reminder of everything I’m trying to hold together. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I force myself to relax, leaning into him as if nothing is wrong.
“Am I interrupting something?” Calum asks, his eyes flicking between me and Jonathan.
Jonathan, who’s been silent since Calum walked in, pushes off the counter and straightens. “Not at all,” he says, his tone flat. “Just a spirited discussion.”
Calum chuckles, clearly buying the lie. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”
Jonathan doesn’t respond. He just stares at us, his expression unreadable, before turning on his heel and walking out. The door slams behind him, the sound echoing through the house.
“Is he okay?” Calum asks, frowning slightly.
“He’s fine,” I say quickly, brushing it off. “You know Jonathan—always brooding about something.”
“Sounds like he was pretty upset,” Calum’s features remain calm but I feel the tension in his words. I don’t reply because I’m not sure he even wants me to. Silence hangs between us before he finally fills it. “He’s mad you chose me.”
My eyebrows lift with surprise. Calum isn’t usually so direct, I often feel his unease before he’ll ever mention it. “He’s just… having a bad day.”
“Is that all?” Calum sets his brush on the easel tray and tilts his head at me. “Maybe it’s time you stop seeing him.”
