1
ANYA
BEING YELLED AT BYan incoherent drunk man isn’t how I wanted to spend my Friday night. I also didn’t particularly want to pack up my life and move an hour north because my boyfriend decided my best friend was a better option than me. I guess we all have bad days, though. Or weeks, in my case.
My heart hurts at the thought of Dylan – my now ex-boyfriend – and Phoebe, my ex-best friend, sneaking around behind my back and lying to me. Forcing them from my mind, I try to focus on the situation in front of me.
The man shouts at me again, spit flying from his mouth and landing on my face. Wrinkles line his forehead and fan out from the corners of his eyes. He waves his hands, swaying so much he almost topples over. I have no clue what he is trying to say, but I’m guessing I’m at the wrong place. I flinch away and sigh as I step back from the kerb, looking down at the address I saved in my notes, which is supposed to be the share house I’m renting a room in. This is where the maps on my phone directed me to.
The street is quiet, which makes the drunk man’s voice sound ten times as loud. I’m positive I’m in the wrong place because a street full of student housing wouldn’t be this calm. I turn, leaving the man to yell at my back as I retreat to the car. The first fall of rain hits my cheeks. Tilting my head back, I glare up at the darkening sky.
I slide into the driver’s seat and retype the address into my phone and, this time, it tells me my destination is five minutes away. Exhaling, I pull away from the kerb, trying to keep my shit together, but the tiny thread of hope I’m holding on to is getting thinner by the second.
Tiredness gnaws at me as I battle to keep my eyes open. This is the last thing I feel like doing tonight, but I had to get away from there. From them.
I swing the car into a busy narrow street, littered with cars parked haphazardly in places they shouldn’t be. Cutting the engine, I peer through the window at the small, weathered house I’m meant to be moving into. Neon lights shine through the windows, and music floats down the driveway as I wander up it. A guy sits on the front porch, his legs dangling from the railing as he blows out a cloud of smoke.
‘Hi,’ I say when he stares at me for a long, awkward moment. ‘Are you Johnny?’
‘Yeah,’ he says wearily, a husky edge to his voice.
‘Hi,’ I say again. The rain is starting to fall heavier now, so I move onto the porch step, trying to avoid my shirt getting any damper than it already is. ‘I’m Anya.’
‘Who?’ His brows draw together.
‘Anya Stark? We spoke on Messenger. I’m renting room three.’
He raises an eyebrow, looking a little surprised. ‘Not anymore.’
My heart does an awkward jolt in my chest. ‘What do you mean, not anymore?’
‘You were supposed to pay the two weeks of rent in advance, but you never did. The room has been rented to someone else.’ His face fades into the stoic expression he was wearing before as he inhales a long drag from the cigarette between his fingers.
I blink at him. ‘What are you talking about? The money left my account.’
‘Never came into mine.’
‘What?’ I frown, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone. I log into my banking app and stare down at the red digits that indicate the withdrawn amount. I shove the phone under his nose. ‘See?’
‘It was withdrawn. Not transferred to me.’ I stare back down at the screen, realising he is right. My heart plummets to my stomach. ‘You also would’ve gotten a confirmation message from me once it went through.’
Swallowing, my shoulders sag in defeat. Once again, I’m furious with myself for giving Dylan access to my bank account because – as usual – he didn’t have any money. He was meant to pay the deposit for me on the day it was due. A fiery ball of anger burns in my chest as I realise he stole from me.
‘Well,’ I say bitterly, stepping back into the rain. ‘That’s just great.’
‘Yeah. That sucks,’ he says flatly, flicking the cigarette to the ground in front of me before disappearing inside the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Running my tongue across my teeth, I try my hardest to stop the tears welling in my eyes from spilling over. I stiffly walk back to the car and exhale a shaky breath before I settle behind the wheel. I dial my brother’s number. My left leg jitters restlessly as I listen to the phone ring out.
After a moment, a text comes through.
Zayden:Dodgy reception. Everything ok?
Anya:Are you home? Or if not is there a spare key?
My brother sends through where his spare key is kept, no questions asked. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, still trying not to burst into tears. After a ten-minute drive, I pull up at my brother’s house. There are several lights on, and an unfamiliar black truck parked in the driveway. Maybe he’s let a neighbour park there. After moving a few pots around, I exhale in frustration when the spare key isn’t where my brother said it would be. Pressing my lips into a line, my eyes bounce from the truck in the driveway to the lights on inside.
Blowing out a hot breath, I knock on the door and step back. Just as a traitorous tear slips out, the front door opens. My breath gets trapped in my lungs when my eyes land on Mason.
