Page 65 of Rewriting the Story

“Open communication is good. It’s what we need from all of us from now on,” Hads says.

“I’m working on it,” I remind them. “I can’t promise it won’t feel like pulling teeth sometimes, but I’m trying to get better. Iwantto get better at letting you guys in on everything.”

Paige sits next to me, her hand on my arm. “That’s all we ask, Ames.”

“I’ll call her at some point. We have things to celebrate, and I don’t want my stupid feelings to intrude on them.”

“Good, because we only have a few minutes until my surprise.” Ella smirks before grabbing the champagne. “And not for nothing, an apology would go a long way, Amelia.”

“I tried to apologize on the beach, but it was all too much at once. The words could barely come out.” We both acted on emotions and not rational thought on the beach the other night. Plus, that was the first time we really talked about everything. It was bound to be how it was, but I wish I was better at talking. It used to feel so easy with him, and now, we’re strangers trying to talk about how we once loved one another.

It’s a difficult situation to navigate, and it’s difficult because I made it so.

“That’s understandable, but apologies go a long way, especially now that you’re actually backing your words with actions. We can all see that. Since you apologized to us, you’ve been more present, more open. So, just show him the same, and you’ll be golden,” Hads tells me as a few knocks hit the door.

“Thank God. We need some better vibes in here,” Ella says as she goes to answer it. “Who is it?”

There’s no answer, but as I look around the room, I feel nothing but warmth. Paige is smiling from ear to ear about whatever is going to happen tonight. Hads is sipping wine and relaxing for once, and Ella has just let in a giant cake, or so it appears.

“Oh my God,” I say, knowing exactly what tonight entails.

And then a stripper jumps out of the cake, and the four of us scream as the party begins.

Iknocktwiceonthe door to the hotel room all the boys inhabit, and I unfortunately don’t have time to second guess my decision to come here at two in the morning, because the door opens immediately.

Honestly, if I didn't do this tonight, I would give myself a thousand reasons not to do it in the next few days. I know myself well enough, and I would do anything to avoid this conversation. But the girls were right. I need to apologize and back up my actions, because when I look back, I want to be able to tell myself I did the right thing in trying to mend my mistakes. I want my future self to know I tried my hardest. I won’t be able to live with myself if I didn't.

“What are you doing here? I thought Grant already saged the demon out of our room?”

“Funny, Oliver. Always so funny,” I say as I stand in front of him. I would have loved for literally anyone else to have answered the door—even Leo, who I don’t know as well, would have been a better option.

“I’m surprised you were even here when I opened the door and weren't playing ding-dong ditch.”

I cock my head at him, already annoyed. This is not how I wanted to start this out, especially since I’m already feeling self-conscious. “Are you done?”

“No, but what do you want, Amelia?”

That’s a fair question. “Can I come in? I need to talk to Henry.”

“How do you know he’s awake?”

“I don’t,” I tell him.

“So, you just showed up here wanting to talk to him in the early hours of the morning?”

“Yes. Now, are you going to let me in or not?”

He says nothing as he moves out of the way, and I take that as a silent invitation in, noticing their room is exactly the same as ours, justmirrored. I look around, not knowing which door he’s behind as I feel Oliver staring at the back of my head.

“Lucky for you, he’s still awake. I’ve heard him typing for the last hour. He’s almost as bad as Paige and Grant.”

“Which door?”

He points to the one in the corner, and I don’t bother thanking Oliver as I knock on the door, mentally preparing myself for whatever lies ahead.

I hear the typing Oliver mentioned stop, and when he opens the door wearing no shirt and just sweatpants, I freeze. Every word I had memorized to tell him is suddenly gone.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

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