Page 72 of Meant to Be

“Hey!” Belle calls out. “Where have you been?” Their heads turn my way, and Belle frowns. “Whose jumper is that?”

“Sam’s.”

Their eyes linger on mine, and I can only imagine how glassy and red-ringed they are. The corners of Nick’s mouth tug down. He despises smoking. He once did a nine-minute-long speech in class about the disastrous effects it has on the human body. I remember every word of it since he practised it to me about a hundred times.

“I’m beat, I’m going to head home.”

“What?” Belle says. “No! Stay!”

“Nah.” I wave her off. “You look like you’re having plenty of fun without me.”

Her frown deepens.

“I’ll walk you home,” Nick offers.

“I’m a big girl, Nick,” I reply, pulling the sleeves of Sam’s jumper over my hands. “And this is Fern Grove, the most boring town ever. I think I’m safe.”

Everyone stares at me like I’ve personally insulted them. I’m too high to care. I see Nick reaching out for me, but I continue to walk away and out of the house. The fresh air slaps my cheeks harshly, and I gulp it in, not realising how flushed I felt until I was out of the room.

After a minute or so, footsteps crunch behind me, and I scowl.

“I said I’m fine,” I snap.

“I heard you.”

My foot stumbles and I right myself, turning to see Harley strolling towards me, his hands deep in his pockets. I swallow, watching a loose bit of hair fall from his beanie. I almost laugh out loud at the memory of my father seeing Harley in town all those years ago and wondering why the hell someone would be wearing a beanie in this heat. It flashes through my mind so quickly that it takes significant self-control not to let myself giggle.

“Great. My stalker.”

Harley smirks. “Never been called that before.”

“Maybe not to your face.”

“Nah, there’s only one girl I’d want to stalk.”

Heat trails down my spine, and I refuse to return his stupidly hot smirk.

He falls in step with me. Our shoulders brush, and goosebumps splinter over my skin like I’ve had an electric shock. My heart squeezes as memories threaten to override me.

“This isn’t you,” he says, gesturing back to the house. “You don’t fit with them. You never have.”

His words sink into my brain, hitting closer to home than I liked.

“How about you stop psychoanalysing me and worry about yourself?”

“It’s kind of hilarious, you know, watching all of this.”

“Watching what?”

“You repeat all your mistakes.” The arrogant smirk fades as he sighs. “You’re fucking stubborn.”

“You don’t know a thing about me,” I hiss, whirling around to face him. There’s not much moonlight tonight, so his face is dark, cast in shadows as he stares back at me. “Stop following me. Stop trying to talk to me, and stop thinking you know me. Because you don’t.”

“I do fucking know you,” he snaps, eyes narrowing into slits. “I know you a bit too well.” He leans closer, and I can smell the memories of us washing over me. “And you hate that I do.”

We’re both breathing hard, glowering at the other, before I drag my eyes from his and start marching back towards my house. His hands circle around me and pull me back.

“I didn’t fight for you last time and I lost you,” he growls. “Four fucking years I’ve waited, hoping you’d come back.” My heart sinks into my stomach as his words hit me like tiny razor blades, slitting my skin and opening me up. “And now that you are, I’m not letting it happen again.”