Twelve missed calls. Ten unread texts.
‘Shit,’ I mutter, dropping my head into my hands. ‘I was meant to go to dinner with Chelsea tonight.’
‘How late are you?’ Zayden asks, looking at his watch.
‘Forty-five minutes.’
He winces. ‘You better buy her flowers or something. That’s not cool.’
‘I lost track of time.’
‘I’m convinced you don’t even like this girl.’
I rake my fingers through my sweat-drenched hair. This isn’t fair on her. The fights and arguments have become too much. She’s convinced there’s something between me and Anya, and we haven’t been able to move past it. Trying to ignore my feelings for Anya was the whole reason I agreed to go out with Chelsea. I’ve tried my best to forget about her and push the feelings aside, but it obviously isn’t working.
‘You’re right,’ I mumble. ‘I need to break it off.’
Zayden offers me a sympathetic look. ‘Sorry, man.’
I bang my head back against the lockers behind me.
I need to get out of this damn town.
25
ANYA
I’M LAZING ON THE LOUNGE,a cool glass of lemonade in my hand. The ice clinks against the glass as I lift it and take a sip. The heat of the sun warms my skin. Being back home is making me feel content.
‘This time next week, you’ll be lounging back, enjoying your cruise.’ I grin, looking over at my mother, who is basically already doing that, but in our backyard instead of on a boat.
‘I can’t wait,’ she breathes, her face lighting up with excitement. ‘I can’t remember the last time I went away with the girls. It’s been years.’
‘It will do you a world of good, Ma,’ I say, smiling.
‘I hope so. I’m looking forward to relaxing for a while.’
‘Make sure you take lots of pics of the islands you stop at!’
‘I will,’ she assures me. ‘So, where’s your brother?’
I peek over at her. Her mouth is pinched with disapproval. She looks similar to me, but her hair has gotten lighter with age and the highlights she’s added to it.
‘With Mase,’ I reply. ‘Have you tried calling him?’
‘I call him almost every day.’
I glance at her in surprise. ‘And he never answers?’
She shakes her head, looking out at the pool, shoulders slumped. She looks tired; there are dark circles under her eyes, and her normally lightly tanned skin is pale.
‘What was the fight about?’ I question, thinking back to the time I arrived home to find Zayden marching out the front door, a duffle bag clutched in his palm, while Mum sobbed from the door, begging him to come back. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to his car. He didn’t tell me what the fight was about, but he refused to let me back inside.
She tenses, but it’s subtle enough that I question whether I truly saw anything.
‘I don’t want to get into it.’
‘It must have been bad. Neither of you will discuss it, and your entire relationship has broken down over it.’
