Page 25 of Never Let Go (Forbidden #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

LAUREN

I t’s the start of Thanksgiving break so Sydney and I are currently cruising to her parents for the weekend.

The windows are rolled down on her blue Mini Cooper, the music’s blaring and the wind’s in my hair—what more could a girl want?

I feel better already, as if leaving campus and all the drama behind me has lifted a weight off my shoulders, making me feel lighter, if only for the weekend.

Sydney’s driving so I get to be a passenger princess and DJ.

I glance over at her when she starts singing I Can Do It With A Broken Heart badly, my face morphing into horrified shock that she would dare sing Tay-Tay off key—Swifties everywhere would be mortified at such blatant disregard for our queen. Yes, I love Taylor… bite me.

“ Lights, camera, bitch, smile ,” she sings as she glances at me, laughing at my expression. “What?”

“Who are you right now?” I gasp in mock disbelief.

Sydney carries on, laughing as she turns off at our exit .

Not long after, we’re pulling up outside Dave and Cynthia’s house.

It’s a modest three bed, with a large front and back yard.

It has the most amazing wraparound porch which I’ve been obsessed with since I first saw it, spending most of my evenings here sitting on the outdoor swing, watching the world go by.

“My baby,” Cynthia cries as she runs from the house and envelopes Sydney in a hug. I wince from the impact. That’s gotta hurt.

“Mom. You’re embarrassing me,” Sydney whisper yells.

“And this is exactly why I do it.” Cynthia winks at me as she comes over to hug me. I lean into her embrace and hug her back. “Hi, honey,” she says.

I smile up at her. “Hey, Cynthia.”

“Come on, your dad’s firing up the grill.

” Cynthia helps us grab our things and we head in.

She’s always reminded me of a younger Helen Mirren, including the humor.

Cynthia’s constantly playing pranks on everyone and if she can embarrass you, her life is complete.

If I was to ever have kids… she’d be mom goals.

We end up in the kitchen once everything’s put away. Another thing I love about this house? The kitchen. I may have a slight obsession with good looking kitchens. It’s all open windows, lots of light and space—the stuff of dreams.

I grab a soda from the fridge and sit at the breakfast bar while Cynthia fusses over Sydney. I’m trying and failing to stifle my giggles as Cynthia tries wiping off a beauty spot Sydney drew on her face to ‘try it out.’

“You’ve got mud on your face, hun,” Cynthia says.

“For the love of fuck, Mom. I drew it on, it’s not mud,” Sydney cries as she runs to the other side of the kitchen island to get away from her.

Cynthia stops chasing Sydney. “Why on earth would you want to do that?” she asks incredulously. “Is this a new ‘in thing’ that the cool kids do, because honestly… it’s not a look.” Cynthia purses her lips like she’s sucked on a lemon and I’m done. Even Sydney bursts out laughing.

Dave comes in with dinner, raising an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, used to his wife’s antics after thirty years of marriage.

We sit at the dining table, catching up on everything since the last time we saw them. Thoughts of Caleb drift in every so often but I push them to the side, not wanting to deal with that can of worms, while I’m trying to have a good time.

Syd and I decided to stay in, opting not to be hung over on Thanksgiving. We say our good nights and head to bed. Sydney’s on her phone not saying much, she’s been in a weird mood lately, but I’ve just put it down to her new dance instructor riding her ass. She’ll talk to me when she’s ready.

I take the time to get myself ready for bed and scroll through social media before calling it a night.

I’m stuffed, literally stuffed. I can’t eat anything else. Cynthia went all out for Thanksgiving today with the amount of food she prepared; at one point I wondered if she was preparing for a zombie apocalypse—the kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. I chuckle at the reminder.

It’s been such a fun, chilled out day though, not even bothering to get changed out of my pajamas, opting for comfort over style. I’ve always enjoyed spending time with Sydney and her family, nothing’s ever forced. You just walk into their home and it’s like you’ve been there your whole life.

Pouring myself a glass of wine, I walk out onto the wraparound porch and curl up on the seated swing, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders to keep warm. The lights from the kitchen creating a warm glow outside as I sit and gaze across the yard.

A noise brings me out of my blissfully blank mind, and I turn my head to see Cynthia coming outside with her own glass of wine in hand.

“Mind if I sit?” she asks.

Moving over to let her sit down, I reply, “Absolutely.” Opening the blanket, she huddles in next to me and I lean my head on her shoulder.

“You seem out of sorts, hun. Everything going okay?” she asks, her motherly instincts flowing over to me.

I hum as I take a sip of my drink, unsure of what to say.

Cynthia turns to face me, a look of concern flitting across her features. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know. I just… don’t know how to explain it, I guess,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she offers.

I nod before starting. “I met a guy, found out he was off limits, starting catching feelings, told him to leave me alone, he did but?—”

“But you didn’t actually want him to stop?” Cynthia finishes for me, a knowing glint to her eyes.

“Something like that,” I mumble.

“Why’s he off limits?” she enquires.

“He’s not someone I can have.” Tears begin to fill my eyes. Lying to both Sydney and Cynthia is making me feel like the absolute worst kind of person .

“Hmm,” she muses, tapping her glass with her nails. “Did you know that when I met Dave, he was off limits?”

“I think our ‘off limits’ are slightly different, Cyn,” I chuckle.

“He was my best friend's boyfriend.”

My eyes go wide, and my mouth drops open in shock. “Cynthia, you little hussy.”

“Don’t look so affronted, it was the 90s,” she laughs. “My point is, sometimes the forbidden can lead to something neither one of you ever thought was possible. I’ve spent the last thirty years with my soul mate. I lost my best friend that day but what I gained instead? That was worth everything.”

Looking at Cynthia and the love that’s clearly shining in her eyes at the thought of Dave, my heart squeezes in my chest. Could I have that with Caleb? Could he be the one if I stop fighting it? Stop fighting him ?

Cynthia stands up, grabbing her glass. “You don’t have to make any decisions today, just think it over, hmm?” With that she kisses my forehead and walks back into the house, leaving me to mull over her words.

After mine and Cynthia’s chat, I needed to get out of my head for a while so after two quiet nights in, Sydney and I decided we’re going out, out tonight.

I’ve gone with a cute 50s pin up style—hair up, light on the makeup and heavy on the red lipstick.

We went into town this morning and I found a stunning red A-line polka dot dress that matched the vibe .

So here I sit—I’m pretty sure I’m on cocktail number five—with a nice little buzz going, waiting for Sydney. I didn’t tell her about what happened at Illusion, it’s not that I was hiding anything from her, it just never came up, so I’m happy knowing we’ll be going home together.

“Girls? You ready?” Dave calls out. He’s driving, saving us having to get an Uber. Picking up the last of my shit, I add them to my clutch and we make our way downstairs, where Dave is waiting for us, keys in hand. “You both look beautiful,” he says, pride shining in his eyes.

Sydney gives him a hug. “Dad, thank you, I love you, but if you ruin my make-up by making me cry, I will hurt you.”

Dave chuckles, giving her a hug back. “Understood, baby girl.”

Tensing at the term ‘baby girl,’ I give Dave a quick hug and kiss, wiping off the red stain I left behind on his cheek, before we trundle out to his car.

On the ride over Sydney plays DJ, both of us singing badly to anything she can find on her playlist, a mix of everything from pop to metal. When Dave starts rapping to Limp Bizkit’s Rollin’, Sydney and I lose our ever loving minds—who knew he was so cool?

Once we get to the club, we say our goodbye’s, promising to call him if we need picking up, we both assure him we will but should be okay.

The place isn’t anything like Illusion or Bucky’s, it’s more your nightclub kinda vibe—strobe lights, drum and bass and sweaty bodies everywhere.

Sydney’s in heaven… I need another drink.

Perching at the edge of the bar, I order us a couple of tequila shots, my usual Jack and Coke for me and a cocktail for Sydney—something about wanting to try something different, I just think she’s gonna end up puking.

I down my drink, needing to get my buzz back, and wave down the bartender for another .

Sydney jumped on the dance floor as soon as she finished her drink—surprise, surprise—but I love watching her. This is our thing; I stand at the bar drinking and she goes off dancing.

I feel my phone go off in my bag and reach in to grab it.

Brad

Hey! Hope you’re having a great weekend. It’s quiet here without you.

I honestly don’t know what to say to this.

I mean, yeah, we’ve been spending time together but I made it pretty clear that we can only be friends.

After the whole incident with Caleb at Bucky’s I can’t—won’t do a relationship right now.

I tried to go on a date and what happens? The universe throws a curveball at me.

I don’t want to be rude so I quickly type out my reply:

Weekend’s great, thank you. Hope yours is okay?

I put my phone away and call the bartender for more shots—I’m going to need something stronger.

The night passes by in a blur of shots, dancing and more shots. Deciding to check the time, I reach for my phone, squinting at the screen as I see another message from Brad. Dear god, he just won’t quit. I think this is the fifth one he’s sent me now and I haven’t replied since the first.

Brad

So you must be really busy not to be able to reply. Just wanted to let you know that Dean Williams want to see you in his office Monday morning. Professor Anderson will be there, as well.

What the fuck do they want ?

Too much liquid courage and a bad attitude are to blame for what happens next.

Why do I need to be in the dean’s office on Monday morning? And why will you be there?

It’s Lauren Taylor by the way.

Short and to the point, because honestly? I need to know why I’d be called in to see them. I’m not expecting a reply to come through as quickly as it does, so I nearly drop my phone when I see his name on the screen.

Caleb

The dean wants to check on your progress. As your professor, I need to be there.

Hmm.

I find that hard to believe, but okay.

Caleb

Lauren, I swear. It had nothing to do with me. Are you okay?

Why is he asking if I’m okay? Of course I’m not. I kinda, maybe, sorta have feelings for my professor.

Yeah, I’m okay. I’m out at a bar with Sydney.

Do I sound like a drunk sixteen-year-old right now? Most probably.

Caleb

What bar ?

Why is this causing butterflies in my stomach? I can feel a goofy grin plaster across my face and I have to give myself a mental slap to stop it.

Can’t remember the name. What are you doing?

I’m going to hell.