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ANYA

THE FIRST THING I do once I go inside is head straight to the kitchen, where I make myself another drink. One that’s even stronger than what I made earlier, which was borderline too strong, but right now, my hands are trembling, my eyes are burning, and I want to feel none of it.

How the hell I said any of that without sobbing or breaking down right in front of him is simply astonishing. I mentally pat myself on the back for holding it together. I climb the stairs, dressed in only my bikini and carrying my cocktail glass, with tears tracking down my cheeks.

What a sight.

The drink is consumed by the time I get to the bathroom, and I peel the wet swimmers off my body, tossing them onto the tiles with a splat . I get in the shower and turn on the speaker that’s suctioned to the wall, cranking up the music. Pressing my forehead to the glass, I let myself sob – the chest-wracking kind of sobs that hurt but feel sort of good at the same time.

My eyes are puffy as hell when I step out of the cubicle, but I feel better for letting it out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and saying what I did to Mason has lifted a weight off my shoulders. It’s done now. We just have to move on and forget about it as best we can.

My phone vibrates and I tense, wondering if Mason is trying to reach out to me. The dread turns to cement that rolls through my body like a bowling ball when I see Dylan’s name on the screen.

Dylan: Do you think about me when you’re with him?

Scoffing, I click into his contact and block the number. As if he thinks that. If he does, he’s completely delusional, and more in love with himself than I thought, which is really saying something.

Hardly daring to breathe, I inch the bathroom door open. I’m relieved Mason is nowhere to be seen. I tiptoe down the hallway and disappear into my room. Throwing on an oversized tee, I crawl into bed, feeling exhausted and drained from the day.

When I close my eyes, tortured whisky eyes blink back at me.

Squinting down at my phone, I increase the brightness on the screen as I walk to class, taking my time as I’m a few minutes early. Pulling my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose, I bring the phone so close to my face it probably looks like I’m about to make out with it.

Unknown: Blocking me isn’t going to stop these messages.

A shiver runs down my spine as I read those eight words. I don’t understand why Dylan is doing this. He is the one who cheated on me . He played the leading role in ruining our relationship; I don’t get what he thinks harassing me is going to achieve. There’s no chance in hell I would ever go back to him, and even if I did want to, there’s no way Zayden would approve.

Unknown: Can you tell me one thing?

Unknown: How many times did it happen while we were together?

I blink down at my phone, confused. I shake my head. I have no idea how he can believe I cheated on him with Mason, when Mason wasn’t even in Australia while I was with Dylan. Unless Dylan thinks we were contacting each other, which I’m guessing he does. I honestly don’t even know when Mason came home. I should ring Dylan to try to clear the air, but the thought of hearing his voice literally makes my skin crawl. I don’t want anything to do with him, and I don’t owe him anything.

Unknown: I saw the photo. Don’t bother denying it.

My skin prickles with unease. I quickly glance around my surroundings, suddenly feeling like I’m being watched. My eyes flick back to the screen, and I stop walking.

I can’t help but remember the last time I received a text from a number I didn’t recognise. Mason, whose number I deleted during one of my heartbroken meltdowns, sent me an old photo of us, with the message ‘I miss you’ attached. I never even responded to it because it sent me spiralling for days.

‘Tall cappuccino, with an extra shot.’ My throat tightens at the sound of a voice in front of me. I jerk my head up, seeing Mason’s hand extended towards me, holding a takeaway coffee. Not that I show it in any way, but I feel relieved that he’s here right now. Those texts have my mind spinning. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I don’t want to deal with any of it.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask with a sigh, locking my phone and shoving it into the pocket of my jeans quickly, hoping he didn’t see anything on the screen.

‘Being a good friend,’ he replies, offering me that annoyingly adorable smirk that’s seared into my brain for eternity. ‘Isn’t that what we are?’

Giving him a deadpan expression, I take the coffee. ‘Okay, Mase. Sure.’ I take a long mouthful, trying to hide my smile. He remembers how I like my coffee. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll walk you to class.’

‘I don’t need a chaperone, Mase. I’m a big girl,’ I say, readjusting the sunglasses on my nose. ‘I appreciate the offer, though.’

‘Ah, but I’m in the same class. So it makes sense to walk together.’

Stopping, I turn to face him, and he grins boyishly down at me.

‘How do you know what class I have right now?’ I ask, my voice laced with suspicion.

‘I memorised your schedule. The one on your wall.’ He shrugs, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie. ‘I’m going to walk you to the classes we share. Because that’s what friends do.’

‘Oh great,’ I grumble, shaking my head and resuming walking, trying desperately not to show how much I’m screaming on the inside.

He memorised my schedule.

I always wanted this kind of attention from him. I craved it all my life. But now that I’m finally getting it ... it seems unreal. Like at any moment he’s going to turn around and tell me that I’ve been Punk’d, that he was just waiting for me to fall into his trap first.

The only sounds between us are our breathing and the light shuffling of our shoes on the footpath. I glance over at Mason, who is staring ahead and looking completely relaxed, as if we didn’t have a conversation yesterday that completely shifted the way we’re supposed to act around each other.

‘Why did you come back?’ I blurt, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag.

Mase turns to look at me, surprised at the question. ‘Why? Did you want me to stay away, Blush?’

‘Answer the question,’ I say, ignoring his deflection.

‘Well. I didn’t want to come back,’ Mason admits after a few moments. ‘Didn’t really want to face everything I left behind, but I had to.’

‘You had to?’

He exhales. ‘Yeah. Something happened.’

‘How awfully specific of you,’ I reply sarcastically. ‘Really painted a picture for me.’

‘I was held at knifepoint, tied up and robbed,’ he says flatly.

I stop walking. Mason’s shoulders sag as he turns, looking at me wearily. My mouth hangs open as I gape at him.

‘I didn’t really tell anyone,’ he continues. ‘Didn’t want people to worry.’

I close my mouth, then re-open it, but nothing comes out.

‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘I’m fine.’ He swallows, his jaw twitching as he looks away. ‘It’s done now.’

‘Jesus Christ, Mase. I had no idea.’

‘I know.’ He runs a hand through his hair, looking a little agitated.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes.’

I blink at him, seeing him in a different light suddenly. Maybe this is the reason why he’s acting so differently. Maybe having a close call with death changed his perspective on life.

Reaching out, I touch my hand against his arm. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you, Mase. That must’ve been really scary.’

He looks down at my hand, then covers my small one with his much larger one. For a moment, I relish being this close to him.

‘I appreciate you telling me. And for being open about your feelings. I know that doesn’t come easy to you.’

His thumb runs a line back and forth over mine. He nods and gently removes his hand.

‘I’m trying this new thing where I don’t fuck things up when it comes to you,’ Mason says.

I smile. ‘So far, so good, Mase.’

He returns my smile, and we fall back into step with one another. I let go of some of the resentment towards Mason that’s been building inside me. At this moment, I just can’t hold on to it. I’ve always wanted him in my life. More of him. But after everything that went down, thinking about letting him back in scares the hell out of me. I can’t deny the change in him. The way he is, but also the way he acts towards me now.

Despite this fear, I feel my resolve crumbling inch by inch as each day passes.