‘I’m okay, Blush.’
‘You’d tell me if you weren’t?’ I watch her grip the handle of the jug tightly as she waits for my response.
My eyes are fixed on her. I can’t help but admire her beauty every time I stare at her. It’s as if she grows even more stunning with each day. I’ve always cared deeply for her, but this feels different. Like an unscratchable itch that is burning a hole in my chest.
Even when life was bleak and things were hard, she was always there for me, and I was always there for her. How did it get so screwed up?
‘You’re probably the only person I would tell.’
Her eyes soften, and she offers me a timid smile. ‘Okay.’
‘I’ll make my special hot chocolate for you, if you want to go pick a movie?’ I suggest, feeling the need to occupy my hands before they start wandering towards her. Again.
‘Sure,’ she replies.
As she brushes past me, I get a wave of her sweet perfume, which lingers in the air as she exits. Despite her changing so much over the years, her signature scent has remained the same: jasmine with a hint of vanilla. My heart trips in my chest at the familiarity of it.
Flashes of embracing her, tangling my fingers through her hair as she buries her face into my chest swarm my mind. Now, as I walk into the lounge room, both of us are tense, subtly side-eyeing each other, gauging the other’s reactions. I hate this.
I hand her the mug and collapse onto the lounge, draping a blanket over my legs. I rest my feet up on the coffee table and sip at the hot chocolate I made.
It’s clear from the start that whatever movie she’s chosen, it’s a horror. Grinning, I turn my head to face her.
‘A horror? You’re so sweet. Thank you.’
Rolling her eyes, she smiles. ‘You made me my favourite drink. I put on your favourite genre. It’s only fair.’
‘Ourfavourite genre,’ I correct her.
Avoiding my eyes, she takes a generous gulp of her drink. Smiling, I settle back into the lounge, making myself comfortable.
Hopefully this is the start of things getting back to how they used to be.
18
MASON
Three Years Earlier
‘YOU AND CHELSEA?’
Exhaling heavily, I turn to face a smirking Zayden. The plan has worked almost perfectly. I need to let Anya go. She deserves better than what I can offer her, and I can’t risk jeopardising my relationship with my best friend. All of it makes my head hurt. And my stupid, damn heart. I can’t wait to get out of here for a little while. I feel as if I haven’t breathed fresh air for weeks now.
Shrugging off his hand, I mutter something incoherent. It’s not fair on Chelsea either, but I don’t know how else to keep my mind off Anya. She needs to be hurt and angry to move on. As much as it kills me, it’s how it has to be.
The laughter and chatter in the locker room drowns out our conversation, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that I don’t want to discuss this.
‘Come on.’ Zayden grins, lightly backhanding my shoulder. ‘Give me some goss. You two have ...?’ He makes a barbaric hand gesture, and I screw my face up.
‘Drop it, will you?’ I grunt, stomping into my boot.
Zayden pouts. ‘You’re no fun.’
He eventually moves over to the other guys, and my shoulders sag at the relief of being left alone. I’ve been in a depressive, anxiety-riddled state for weeks – ever since the conversation with Anya that broke both our hearts.
‘I hear my little bro is planning to ask out your sister,’ I hear JP drawl, and my head snaps up at his words. He leans against his locker, a crooked smirk on his lips.
Zayden’s eyebrows rise as he blinks at JP. ‘I don’t fucking think so,’ Zayden snarls.
