Page 36 of Together We Burn
Sighing, I dragged my stare away from the window and faced my friends.
“There’s something I need to do,” I said, unwilling to divulge any information about Stefany’s family history. Stepping forward, I pulled out my wallet and held out my card. “Here, take this, get whatever you like, on me.”
Alton snatched it out of my hand without saying anything, huffed toward the door, opened it, and slammed it behind him. He was always the immature prick out of the three of us.
Victor patted a hand against my shoulder, giving me a look filled with equal parts inquisition and sympathy.
“Hope everything works out.”
Yeah, me too.
I nodded curtly and watched him leave.
Chapter fourteen
Stevie
Jake:We need to talk.
Jake:Stefany, I need to see you.
Jake:Please.
Swipingoffmymessages,I locked my phone and shoved it down the side of the couch, where I wouldn't be tempted to reply. Restlessness was not something I often felt and never over a guy, but that conversation from earlier would not slip from my mind.
Fuelled by grief and the inability to save his younger brother, Jake had been trying to formulate some kind of drug that mimicked the euphoria when taking illicit drugs, but without the risk of addiction or overdose. Today, he succeeded. His excitement was palpable; the pride coupled with relief could be felt down the phone, and I was happy for him. I didn’t lie when I said I was proud of him. What he had achieved was monumental. But being the first person the bastard had to call to share his big news fucked with my head. So, yeah, I was ignoring his messages. I couldn’t handle speaking to him again. Not so soon after the thick block of ice I called a heart had stupidly started to thaw.
Not to mention Alex’s advice a couple of weeks ago; connection, insta-lust, and all the fairy tale bullshit. They don’t happen in real life–certainly not mine.
I never believed in fate or destiny. Instead, choosing to consider the choices we made to pave our paths was not predetermined. Yet, the recent events on my road were undoubtedly something I’d never choose. Maybe saying “Create your own destiny”was just that. A saying. One that drunk bitches get tattooed on their wrists by a sketchy back alleyway artist and would regret it when they sobered up. Because destiny was real and would fuck you in the ass, regardless.
My phone buzzed again, the vibrations muffled between the couch cushions, and my whole body tensed.
“Why don’t you just answer it?” Alex said, not taking his eyes from the bootlegged version of the newTop Gunfilm. If Alex could download a near-perfect copy of the latest movies from the dark web, there was no way we wouldn’t be watching it from the comfort of our home as soon as it came out.
I shifted, tucking my legs under me as I tried to act like I didn’t know what he was talking about. Alex paused the movie and turned to face me.
“That’s like the tenth time he’s called or texted in an hour. Just speak to him,” he implored, pushing his glasses up his nose.
I opened my mouth to speak, when my phone buzzed again. Alex pounced at me, his vast body crashing on top of mine as he scrambled to grab my phone.
I kneed him in the side, trying to get his heavy weight off me as he roared with laughter, digging further down the side of the couch. Triumphantly, he held the phone above his head like a trophy. The buzzing stopped, and his victory was short-lived.
“Call him back,” he said, shoving the device into my chest. “I’m fed up with seeing you all mopey.”
I grabbed it and put it in my hoodie pocket.Out of sight, out of mind.
“I’m not mopey,” I muttered, pulling the hoodie over my legs, resting my chin on my knees, and turning my attention to whatever was happening on the screen.
A group of guys were standing around a plane, talking about their next flight, or maybe something was wrong with it? I had no idea and couldn’t tell if we had been watching the film for an hour or ten minutes. My mind was firmly stuck on Jake’s wide smile and sparkling eyes.
Groaning, I shook my head and got off the sofa, walking barefoot toward the stairs.
“Where are you going, Stevie?” Alex called after me, kneeling on the sofa and leaning over the back. “You haven't even seen Tom Cruise take his shirt off yet.”
I turned and put my hands inside the front pocket of my hoodie, wrapping them around my phone on instinct.
“Firstly, gross, he’s like sixty now.”
