My mouth falls open. ‘What?’
‘Yeah! I told you the guy with the monobrow was shady.’
I chuckle, shaking my head in bewilderment. ‘You did, actually. I remember that.’
‘And now, I think about that time he invited us over for tea. He was totally trying to get us to join.’
My eyes widen. ‘That is actually creepy as hell.’
‘Right?’ she agrees.
Just then, her phone vibrates, and we exchange a look of dread before she flips it over. Private number. She frowns, and we both stare at it in silence as it rings.
‘I’m getting a bit anxious about this now.’
‘I don’t think the cafe owner will remember us, Blush. I think we’re safe.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Funny. I meant about these private calls I’ve been getting. I think it might be Dylan.’
I straighten my spine, looking at her in alarm. ‘What?’
‘I blocked his number, and then got this weird message saying that blocking the number isn’t going to stop him contacting me, and now all these No Caller ID numbers keep phoning me. I’m getting more and more each day.’
‘What the fuck?’ I exclaim, my anger boiling over as I picture Dylan Peterson’s smug face in my mind. ‘That’s not okay. I’m going to answer the next time they call.’
‘No!’ she quickly argues, shaking her head and shoving her phone into her bag, out of my reach. ‘He wants a reaction, and I’m refusing to give him one. He’ll get bored and move on eventually.’
‘He caused all of this, though, so why would he be harassing you? What does he think it’ll achieve?’
She shrugs. ‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘That dude needs a life.’
‘Agreed.’
We finish dinner, then walk around town for a while, trying to keep each other distracted, but my mind keeps returning to the harassing phone calls. I enjoy talking about old times and making each other laugh. The fact that we can make each other laugh right now is a miracle, but it’s always been like this with us: easy, effortless, and like the entire world around us doesn’t exist.
Anya yawns. ‘I think the day is starting to catch up to me.’
Wrapping an arm around her, I pull her close. ‘Me too.’
After a loop of the town, realising most places are shutting for the night, we end up back at the hotel. Stepping inside the elevator, I press the button for our floor, and as I step back, I lean over, brushing my mouth across the corner of hers. Her eyes shift to mine, then drop to my lips, and I feel my pulse begin to race.
The doors open, and we step into the hall, brushing hands. I fumble for the card and slide it over the lock, allowing us entry to the room. Looping her arms around me, she presses her lips to my cheek, slowly moving up my jaw.
‘I thought you were tired,’ I choke out, voice hoarse.
‘Not anymore ...’ she trails off, tongue snaking over my skin, making me melt into a puddle of liquid at her feet. ‘Are you?’
‘Suddenly, not so much.’
I sweep her off her feet, kick the door shut and crash my lips against hers.
34
ANYA
Three Years Earlier
