Page 155 of Composed
I dig a keychain from my pocket, slip past the stoners, and duck into the rickety old shed. Saint and I always end up here on the bad days. He gave a set of keys a couple years ago, after he caught me hanging on the skate park, guitar in my lap, following a particularly bad night at home.
He hates being inside his house too, so the shed became our place.
A quiet haven for the both of us when the world gets too loud.
Saint’s already inside, hunched against the wall, whisky bottle dangling from his fingers.
I place my untouched beer on top of the small fridge and sink into the couch. His gaze flicks up and over me before he trudges over and collapses face-first into my lap.
I tug at the ends of his shoulder-length hair. Pretty sure this is another style he’s trialling because Theo mentioned David Beckham circa two-thousand-two. It’s not his best look, but he won’t listen to reason.
“You okay?” I ask, as he rolls onto his side and drapes his arm over me. “You’re looking a little green, bestie.”
“Got in a fight with Teddy.” He grunts. “Drank too much. Smoked. Think it was laced.”
I sigh, dragging my fingertips over his scalp “You wanna talk about it?”
Not that I’m in any shape to give advice.
Cole and I have been bickering a lot lately.
Since Reckless Abandon signed, they’ve been down in London recording, and every time he comes home, we find something to argue about.Ifind something to argue about. And with each argument, the silence between us only grows.
He mumbles a no.
I push his hair out of his forehead, and run my fingers over his clammy skin. “Cole and I are in a fight too.”
“What did you do this time?”
My hand stills. “Why do you think it was me?”
“Because it’s always you, Rix.” A choked laugh cuts his throat. “Just like it’s always me.”
Bitterness coats my tongue. “Do you ever think we’re just not meant for this?”
“This? You mean happiness?” He cracks an eye open and peeks up at me. I nod. “All the fucking time.” He curls a hand around my wrist, the one permanently inked for Cole, and squeezes. “But we’re still holding on, right?”
Air lodges in my lungs. “Always.”
“Things will be okay.” Despite the slurred tone, he sounds so fucking sure. All I want is to believe him. “Better days, Rix. Just you wait.”
“Yeah.”
I stroke my fingers through his hair as silence curls around us.
It’s not long until his breath softens and he’s slobbering all over me in his slumber.
My stomach knots as I try to smooth the creases from his brow with my thumb.
Saint’s been getting worse lately.
The highs, the lows.
If I didn’t know him so well, I’d be worried. With all the changes happening around us, it’s not all that surprising. Pretty soon, the guys will be off chasing their dreams and nothing will ever be the same again.
I slide deeper into the worn, velvet couch, my head lolling on the back as I zero in on the flickering lightbulb. My lashes flutter closed, my heart sitting too heavy in my chest.
I chase the darkness and let my dreams whisk me away to a brighter world.
