Page 9

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ANYA

Three Years Ago

FINALLY, THE LONG WEEKEND has arrived. I’ve been counting down the days because my parents are going away for the weekend, and Mason and Zayden have planned a party.

Things have been really tense at home. Zayden won’t stay in the room if Rod – our stepfather – enters, and Mum and Zayden aren’t speaking, which has never happened before. No one will explain what the hell is going on, but Mum and Rod can’t seem to get away quickly enough, and Zayden can’t contain his excitement about having the house to ourselves.

A warm breeze blows as I walk outside, and the humidity makes my hair stick to my forehead. After sweeping the back patio and putting away all the pool gear – as per Mum’s request – I head back inside for a drink of water.

Two large hands land on my shoulders, and I flinch in surprise.

‘Sorry to scare you,’ Rod apologises, brushing past me as he moves through the kitchen. He turns and offers me a smile. ‘Going for a swim?’

‘Yeah, I think so. It’s unusually warm today.’

‘It sure is,’ he comments, spreading out his hands and leaning forward onto the kitchen bench. ‘That’s why I wanted to get on the road nice and early – to beat the traffic and the heat. But you know your mother; she’d be late to her own funeral.’

I snicker. ‘You’re probably right about that.’

‘Do you think that bikini is getting a bit small for you?’ Rod asks me.

I glance down at my chest; my boobs certainly grew in the last six months. It seemed like they just appeared overnight and, suddenly, none of my tops looked the same on me. I flush under his scrutiny. ‘Oh,’ I mumble, shrugging. ‘I don’t know. It feels comfortable enough.’

He opens his mouth to say more when Mum bustles into the kitchen like a whirlwind.

‘Okay, okay,’ she says, whipping past me and grabbing her vitamins from the kitchen counter. ‘I’m ready.’

‘Finally!’ Rod deadpans. ‘I’ll get the car started.’

‘Have a good time!’ I tell them.

Rod points a finger at me. ‘Keep the boys in line.’

‘I will.’

He winks at me as he disappears out of the kitchen.

‘Love you, miss you already,’ Mum says, planting a wet kiss on my cheek. ‘Don’t stay up all night reading, I’ll know!’

I roll my eyes. ‘Bye!’

The front door slams shut and suddenly, the house feels empty and still. I drum my fingers against the kitchen counter, surveying the space. I pack away anything of value into cupboards and move the furniture back against the walls to create room for people to dance. I don’t know who the boys have invited, but since they’re the star football players – kings of the school, as they like to call themselves – I imagine the guest list will be quite long.

Once I’ve finished all the jobs Zayden ordered me to do, I head outside to dip my toes into the water. The coolness instantly makes my hot skin feel better, and I slide the rest of my body into the pool. There’s a calmness under the water. A sense of peace I don’t get anywhere else. It’s quiet down here and, in this moment, it’s just me and the water.

I’m climbing out of the pool when the boys return home. I meet them inside and help Mason with the bags he’s holding. Liquid heat pools in my stomach when his eyes drink in my exposed skin. He brings his lower lip between his teeth. Something flutters between my legs, and I clench my thighs at the feel of it.

Zayden heads back out the front door to get whatever else is in the car, and Mason glides towards me. I back into the kitchen counter, and he plants his arms either side of me, caging me in. I feel the heat of his skin near mine as he looks down at me. Excruciatingly slowly, he leans forward, then drags his tongue up the side of my neck.

‘Mm,’ he murmurs, and it feels like my insides are dripping. ‘Salty.’

Rod is insistent about using salt water in the pool. I must admit, I do enjoy it – chlorine used to irritate my eyes and skin when I would spend hours and hours in the pool. I’m certainly appreciating it right now .

‘Is it?’ My voice is barely audible as I struggle to inhale and exhale.

He tucks my wet hair behind my ear, his breath fanning over my lips. He leans in close, barely brushing his lips against mine, when we hear Zayden’s footsteps approaching. With a wicked smirk, Mason pushes back, creating distance between us. I feel like every inch of me is on fire, despite the water dripping off me.

Once everything is set up for the party, we decide to take a break. We spend the next half hour swimming, and then make homemade hamburgers to eat out the back. We sit around the table, the latest hits softly humming from the portable speaker.

My phone rings, interrupting Mason and Zayden’s argument about something I’m not paying attention to. I glance down at it, seeing Zeke’s name across my screen. When it finishes ringing, a beep comes through, indicating a text. Then another.

Zeke has asked me out twice now. I’ve said yes both times, only to pull out the day before, making up some stupid excuse not to go. He’s kind, and I know we would have a good time, but it’s hard to think about dating someone when I know my heart belongs to Mason. It beats for him and only him. My friends insist I’m too young and naive to know that Mason is ‘the one’, and that I’m wasting away my teenage years crushing on him, but the heart wants what it wants. They don’t understand what we have, or the depth of our relationship. Our friendship. Whatever the hell it is at this point.

My friends tease me for wanting all my firsts to be with Mason; they don’t understand why I’m holding out. They can tease me all they want because I know it will be truly special.

One night when we were sharing a bottle of vodka we found, giggling and hiding in the shadows at the back of the house, he promised me that when I was eighteen I’d be old enough for us to take things further. I’m not sure he even remembers the conversation, but I certainly do. When I’m eighteen, and he’s graduated, and there isn’t the pressure of school, classes and my brother’s watchful eyes – we will be together. He promised me. Once I’m eighteen ... everything is going to change.

We got in an argument only yesterday when I tried talking to him in front of his friends and he brushed me off. I hate it when he does that. He acts all sweet when we’re alone, but too cool for me when others are around, but I know it’s because he is waiting to graduate before starting anything between us. He’s saving for a trip, and then once he’s back, we are going to be together.

‘Are you going to answer that?’ Zayden asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Nope,’ I answer.

‘Who is it?’ Mason asks.

‘No one.’

They exchange a glance before Zayden dives for my phone. I let out a squeak of protest, swiping for it, but Zayden is too quick. He leaps to his feet, easily dodging me. He looks down at the screen, and I sink into my seat.

‘Zeke,’ he says loudly, looking up at me. He clears his throat, putting on a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like him. ‘Heyyyy. Heard your brother is throwing a rager tonight. Do I get to be your plus one? Would love to see you.’

My cheeks grow hot, and I feel Mason’s glare land heavily on me. My food suddenly tastes dull as I chew it, refusing to look his way.

‘Is Zeke your boyfriend?’ Zayden teases.

‘No,’ I mutter.

‘Zeke who?’ Mason asks, and I wince at the severity of his tone.

‘Yeah, Anya. Zeke who ?’ Zayden probes nosily.

‘No one. It’s nothing. Just drop it.’

‘Ohhh.’ Zayden smirks, glancing at Mason. ‘I think she likes him.’

I close my eyes briefly. When I open them, Mason is staring at me, his expression unreadable. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling, but I’m assuming he’s pissed. I groan inwardly.

‘Stop being an asshole!’ I complain, shooting daggers at Zayden, who has a stupid, smug grin on his face. ‘It’s just a guy in my class who asked me out, but I didn’t say yes. Okay? Happy?’

Zayden considers this. ‘Yes. I am. No dating until you’re twenty-five.’

I snort. ‘Yeah. Okay.’

When I sneak a glance at Mason, his easy expression has returned, and I feel the tightness in my chest loosen. It matters to me that he knows how unimportant Zeke is. Or anyone is, for that matter.

An hour later, I’m showered and sitting in front of my mirror, doing my makeup. Mason strolls into my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. I half turn, glancing over at him.

‘Can I help you?’ I ask in a snippy tone, but my smile betrays me.

‘Zeke, huh?’ Mason says, folding his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging deliciously as he does so.

I give him a deadpan stare. ‘ No .’

‘No?’ He raises a brow.

‘No,’ I repeat.

‘There’s nothing there?’ he questions.

I shake my head. ‘Like I said, no.’

‘Okay,’ he says.

My heart jerks in my chest. ‘I thought you wouldn’t care.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Seems like you do.’

His jaw ticks. ‘Maybe I do.’

Neither of us breaks the stare for several long moments. Eventually, I turn back to the mirror and continue applying my eyeshadow.

‘Did you answer his text?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

I meet his eyes in the reflection. ‘Because he’s my friend.’

‘Is he?’ Mason asks, his voice frosty. ‘And what did you say to him?’

‘I said he’s welcome to come if he wants to. It’s an open invite party.’

Mason’s eyes narrow. ‘Right.’

‘Since you’re too cool to talk to me in front of your friends, it shouldn’t be a problem anyway.’

‘It isn’t,’ he quips.

‘Good.’

‘Great.’

‘Excellent.’

Mason leaves my room, and my door bangs shut behind him. Exhaling, I lean forward, my face against my palms.

That boy will be the death of me.

I’ve been dancing for hours and my legs are beginning to burn. Phoebe’s hands hold mine as we move to the beat. The house is packed with people, a lot of whom I recognise as already graduated, making the party feel a little more mature than the other high school ones I’ve attended.

For a long time, I stuck to my introverted ways, but Phoebe really brought me out of my shell. She is quite possibly the most outgoing person I’ve ever met. I don’t think the word ‘no’ is in her vocabulary when it comes to invitations. I’m grateful, because she’s made me step out of my comfort zone.

People who I’ve seen around school for years have come and said hello to me for the first time, and two boys have asked for my number. It’s definitely because of the dress I borrowed from Phoebe – a spaghetti-strapped emerald number that matches my eyes. Since I’ve filled out more, we can finally share clothes, as Phoebe matured a lot earlier than I did. She’s wearing a cute matching crop top and skirt set that she saw advertised in a magazine and just had to get. Her long hair, which was perfectly straight at the start of the party, is tangled in messy waves from all the dancing.

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Phoebe shouts at me.

‘What?’ I ask, leaning towards her.

‘Have guys falling over their feet to get your attention all the time!’ She rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

‘I don’t think you’re one to have any complaints in that department, Phoebs,’ I laugh, lightly squeezing her arm. I’m not sure how she doesn’t see her own beauty, or why she always has to compare us, but sometimes I don’t think she knows how truly gorgeous she really is. ‘Boys fight for your attention!’

‘Never the ones I want.’

‘What?’ I ask, pulling my hair back behind my shoulder, as if that will help me hear her better over the loud pop song blaring from the speakers.

She waves her hand dismissively at me, ending the discussion, and I go back to dancing, enjoying the beat.

The floor beneath my feet is vibrating, and suddenly I feel lightheaded. I signal a time-out gesture, and Phoebe looks annoyed before turning to join the group beside us. She is wildly popular and friends with everyone, although she insists she dislikes all the girls who claim to be her close friends – except me.

Heading to the bathroom, I take a moment to sit in silence and pull out my phone. I stare down at the screen, smiling and reading through Mason and my last conversation. I was feeling confident, wanting to flirt with him like I often do, ignoring our earlier disagreement.

Anya: I think you’re hot

Mason: Yeah?

Anya: Veryyyy

Mason: I think you’re hot, too

Anya: For real?

Mason: For real, for real

Anya: What do you like, in particular?

Mason: Everything

Anya: Yeah?

Mason: You know this already

Anya: Just realised I actually texted the wrong person

We love playing this game. It’s dangerous, but I don’t want to stop.

I go to the kitchen and snag a bottle of water from the fridge before heading out the back. The cool night air washes over me and I can breathe again. I’m surprised by how cold it is tonight, given the heat we had throughout the day. Making my way around the side of the house, I find that this part of the yard is deserted. Leaning against the wall, I gaze up at the dark, starry sky.

‘You should be careful out here all alone,’ a voice murmurs.

Turning my head, I see Mason. He flashes me his trademark smile – the one I fall in love with more and more each day.

‘I needed a breather,’ I admit. ‘It’s so loud and busy inside.’

‘It is,’ Mason agrees. ‘Are you having a good time?’

‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Are you?’

‘I am now.’

Pressing my lips together, I peel my gaze away from him.

‘You look beautiful, Blush,’ Mason murmurs, sending a shiver down my spine.

‘What are we doing, Mase?’ I ask, a little exasperated. ‘You tell everyone I’m like a little sister to you. You deny anything ever going on, but here you are, telling me that. Kissing my freckles. Getting angry when boys show interest in me.’

He’s quiet for a long moment. Digging his hands into his pockets, he sighs. ‘We can’t be together right now. Your family has become my family, and Zayden is everything to me. There’s a lot going on for the both of us right now. We just have to wait it out a bit longer.’

My heart crumbles, but I nod. It’s always the same answer. Every time I tell myself to stop asking, to walk away. But I never do. ‘Right.’

‘But,’ he murmurs, stepping closer to me. ‘I’m unable to stay away from you.’

Gulping, I risk a glance in his direction, and the heated look in his eyes makes everything inside me clench.

‘I don’t know what that means,’ I confess in a broken whisper. ‘You’re confusing the hell out of me, Mase.’

‘I know.’ He sighs. ‘I’m sorry.’ He moves in front of me. Capturing my hand in his, he brings it to his mouth, kissing it. He pulls it to his chest, and I feel how hard and fast his heart is beating. Swallowing, I lift my eyes to his. I wonder if he feels the same way I do.

I splay my fingers across his muscles, letting them roam his chest, then sink lower to his stomach. He applies a little pressure on my hand, giving me encouragement to go further. My fingertips brush the top of his waistband. His gaze connects with mine, his eyes appearing darker in the dim lighting out here, as my hand skates across the bulge in his pants. I’m barely breathing at this point, too scared to blink and suddenly wake up, realising this has all been a dream.

This time, he is the one who is breathing heavily.

He is affected by me .

Applying a little more pressure, I move my hand. He closes his eyes, his other hand slamming against the wall near my head. He presses his forehead into the side of mine.

‘I want to touch you,’ he groans, his voice hoarse and rough, like when he first wakes up in the morning. ‘But I know I shouldn’t.’

‘I want you to,’ I whisper.

‘We can’t,’ he chokes out. ‘ I can’t.’

I move my hand once more and he groans softly, before gripping my wrist and forcing me to stop. He releases a shaky breath and slides his fingers between mine, gripping me so hard it almost hurts. I’ve never seen him shaken like this.

His lips move against my hairline, skimming across my cheekbone. He kisses across my freckles, down my jaw, and then, his lips are on mine.

Warm, soft, perfect .

He tastes like coffee, mint chewing gum and a slight hint of something else. Beer perhaps, but I know he isn’t drunk. Neither of us have drunk much at all tonight, too stressed and on edge about something going wrong at the party, given that it’s our house and all. Well, my family’s house, although he’s here just as much as Zayden and me.

Our lips move together, slow and soft at first before moving into something a little more desperate. His hands are in my hair, combing through it, and I whimper into his mouth, loving the feel of his hard body against mine. His lips move across my chin, down to my neck, and he softly bites my skin there, making me moan. My hands run down his sides, then slide across his torso. I trace the hard lines of his stomach. His hand moves from my hair, carving a line down my neck and moving to my breast. He gently palms it, and I arch my back, pushing myself into him.

‘Fuck, Blush,’ he groans.

His mouth is on mine again, sucking my lower lip between his teeth. A thrill shoots through me at the sensation. The kiss is deep and hungry, and our hands move across each other’s bodies, exploring our touch properly for the first time.

‘Do you know how hard it is not to kiss you every moment of every day?’ he pants, his breathing ragged.

‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘Because I fight the same urge.’

‘Beautiful,’ he keeps murmuring between kisses. ‘So, so beautiful.’

A shriek startles us both, and then the sound of glass smashing on cement jolts us from our trance. Breathing heavily, he steps back, combing a hand through his hair.

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ I pant, needing to fill the tension-laced silence, my head spinning from what just happened.

‘No.’ He shakes his head. His eyes drop to my wrist, and I realise I’m playing with the end of my leather bracelet. ‘That’s new,’ he says.

‘Um,’ I whisper, my throat suddenly dry. ‘I actually got it for you.’ My cheeks grow warm. ‘I’m not sure if it’s something you’d like ... or even wear ...’

His brilliant smile lights up his face. ‘You got that for me?’

I nod. ‘Yeah.’

Slipping it off, I hand it to him. He trails his fingers over it, before unknotting it and tying it around his wrist. His eyes linger on it for a moment. The leather weaves in a crisscross movement, fitting him perfectly.

‘I love it,’ he says. ‘It’s even more special knowing it’s from you.’

My heart trips in my chest as I beam up at him, thrilled. I felt confident when I bought it, but was too scared to give it to him, as I was worried he would think it’s juvenile.

Moving my hands up the sides of his neck, I thread my fingers around the back of his head. His eyes lock on mine.

Reaching up, I press my mouth to his for one more moment before we step away from each other and pretend nothing ever happened.