‘Don’t be out late.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ she tosses over her shoulder just as Zeke pulls up at the end of the driveway. She disappears inside the car, and he throws a wave in our direction before flying down the street, the car’s loud exhaust drilling inside my skull.
‘Fuck this shit, I need a drink,’ Zayden mutters.
‘Me too.’
We go inside, and I’m feeling glum as fuck. I’m pissed as hell too – with her, with Zeke, with Zayden and, most of all, with myself. Better Zeke than Dylan, but I don’t want her with either of them. Withanyone.
I stumble into the bathroom and slide down the wall. Black dots swallow my vision and I choke on my breath just trying to inhale. Pushing to my knees, I throw my head inside the toilet bowl and retch, waves of nausea rolling over me as the anxiety eats its way through my body.
When will this fucking end?
19
ANYA
THE STEADY RHYTHM OFmy feet hitting the pavement calms my mind, which feels as if it’s been spinning for the entire last month. There’s a slight breeze, which moves the two tendrils of hair that have fallen in front of my face. I run harder and faster until the burn spreads into a feeling of numbness that trickles through my body like icy-cold water.
I used to run all the time, and when Zayden told me about the perfect running track that goes from our house down to the beach, I decided to force myself out of bed this morning to see it for myself. Running used to clear my head, and that’s something I desperately need right now.
Stumbling to a stop, I lean over, pressing my hands against my knees as I heave, but nothing comes up, since I haven’t eaten for what I realise is an unhealthy amount of time. My heart gallops in my chest and my vision swims. After a few greedy gulps of the fresh morning air, my pulse finally starts to slow as I catch my breath. I’ve already run the track in full and have pushed myself to do it a second time, even though the length of one lap is certainly enough.
My head is so full. I can’t stop thinking about Dylan, and Phoebe, and the fact that they may have been together for most of the time I was with him. My best friend let me confide in her, only to betray me in the worst way, lying right to my face.
And then there’s Mason, who makes my heart hurt in a different way. Longing, lust and resentment, all bound tightly into one aching ball lodged in my chest. I can’t think straight when it comes to him. I spent years building walls around my heart to protect myself from him, and he’s doing everything in his power to rip them back down.
Tears burn my eyes, and I sag to the ground, drawing my knees to my chest and burying my face. It all hurts. No amount of running or distraction can stop my mind from going over everything, like a song stuck on replay.
‘Blush.’ Mason’s voice, deep and raspy, makes me jolt in alarm. I snap my head up to see him looking down at me in concern. He looks handsome – as always – in a sleeveless black shirt, and a backwards cap that pushes his dark hair away from his face. His sweat glistening across those bulging, tattooed biceps makes me question my strength. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ I exhale, shakily getting to my feet. ‘Just went a little too hard.’ Surreptitiously wiping the tears from my eyes, I clear my throat, levelling him with a suspicious look. ‘Are you following me?’
‘I run this path every day,’ he says flatly. My eyes track the movement of his chest rising and falling; his shirt clings to his hard, muscled torso. I tear my eyes away.
‘Oh.’
‘Which means you’re the one following me, technically?’ He smirks.
‘I am not.’
‘Okay.’
‘What do you want, Mase?’ I sigh, planting my hands on my hips.
‘Just checking in on you.’
‘Well, I’m fine.’
‘Okay, then.’
His eyes stay trained on my face for a heartbeat too long before he turns and starts jogging away. I spend way too long watching him effortlessly run down the exact path I was planning to head down myself. My saliva feels thick as I swallow and turn to go back home, feeling too drained and lightheaded to continue the run.
Zayden is in the front yard when I arrive, and he throws the football he’s playing with at me. I catch it with a slightoomphas it collides with my chest. He holds out his hands, and I launch it back to him.
‘Morning.’
‘G’morning,’ I mumble.
