He returns to his friends, and I do the same, my heartbeat loud in my ears. Guilt gnaws at my insides. I feel I’m betraying Mason somehow, even though I’m not. He has no claim to me, and I don’t owe him a single thing. I shake off the feeling and sit down opposite Nora and Cami.
‘Did you just agree to go out with Kai?’ Cami asks, her eyebrows so high they almost disappear into her hair.
‘Yeah.’
‘What about Mason?’ Nora asks, exchanging a look with Cami.
‘Wait.’ I narrow my eyes, pointing between them. ‘What was that?’
‘What was what?’ Cami asks in mock innocence.
‘That little ...’ I move my hands to emphasise the look between them. ‘Whatever you just did. As if you’ve been talking about me.’
‘I like him,’ Nora admits, casting me a sheepish look. ‘He seems sweet and really into you.’
‘Sweet!?’ I protest, eyes widening. Then I realise I never told them what happened all those years ago. ‘Sweet’ is a fair evaluation, I suppose, since they’ve only ever seen him as he is now. If they knew how he made me feel – repeatedly – they would have different opinions. Especially if they knew what happened after. But that’s in the past, and maybe the chapter needs to end. We are both different people now. Maybe I need to move on from it.
‘He didn’t look at anyone else the entire night,’ Cami agrees. ‘There’s something there, girl. Whether you’re ready to face it yet or not.’
‘Going out with Kai is going to be more confusing,’ Nora adds, leaning forward and tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. ‘Unless you’re into him. Are you?’
‘My head hurts,’ I mutter. ‘I don’t know what I want.’
My mind flashes back to Mason crumpling up the piece of paper Kai gave me. The audacity of that man. It is definitely nothotwhen he’s so possessive of me.
It’s not.
It’s not.
It’snot.
Nora’s hand rests lightly on top of mine. ‘It will work out how it’s meant to.’
‘Sure,’ I agree weakly. ‘Let’s hope so.’
14
MASON
I’M ALONE FOR THEdrive back home. Zayden stayed with the boys, who were wanting to go for a drink. I thought he might try to pressure me into staying, but even he could tell I needed to go.
It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back, but with my mind so deep in thought, it feels I get there in seconds. Swinging into the driveway, I kill the engine and peer out at the darkening sky. As I get out of the car, raindrops bounce off me. It was an unusually humid day today, which means it will most likely storm tonight.
As a child, storms filled me with so much anxiety I would throw up for hours. It was all because of him: my father – a schizophrenic alcoholic – who was terrified of storms. As a little boy, he got caught outside in the middle of a bad thunderstorm, and lightning hit the tree he was cowering under. Whenever the storm clouds started to roll in, which was often, he would board up the house, unplug all the electronics and scream at me to hide. I would lie in puddles of my own vomit for hours until he unlocked my door. No other kid I knew had a bedroom door that locked from theoutside.
When I started staying semi-permanently with the Starks, I couldn’t believe the difference. Their mum and stepfather would sit out the back of the house, share a drink and watch the storm pass over. It was a surreal moment when I realised I didn’t need to be afraid, unlike I always thought. Every time it storms, my mind reels back to childhood and everything I used to deal with. I hate it. I wish there was something I could do to forget it all.
The rain starts to fall harder. I dash inside and kick off my now-wet shoes. Shaking out my hair, I shrug off my jacket and hang it up to dry. ‘Numb to the Feeling’ by Chase Atlantic is playing softly through the speakers. Curiously, I wander into the kitchen and see a cocktail-mixing kit on the bench.
A splash draws my attention to the pool outside. Anya emerges from the water to float on her back. Rain splatters down on her, and she smiles up at the sky. Her dark hair billows behind her in a long coffee-coloured stream. Her navy bikini is tight over her body, showing off everything that’s been consuming my mind for the past few days.
Marching across the room, I yank the screen door open, casting a nervous glance at the almost-black sky.
‘Are you crazy?’ I shout.
Unfazed, she turns, paddling towards the edge. She wraps her fingers around her cocktail glass and takes a sip. She smiles. ‘What?’
‘It’s storming!’
