Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 188966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
I’d rather sleep on the beach with the waves whispering nice things and the stars keeping me company.
Smiling brighter, I lied, “She asked if I could stay the night.”
“She did, really?” Dad frowned. “What about Joel? Won’t he have a problem bumping into you in the dead of night when he gets up for a pee?”
“He’s not living at home anymore.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “His socials say he’s in Indo training for the Billabong Pro Teahupoo in Tahiti next month.”
“Oh, well, that’s good, I guess. No awkward midnight oopsie-daisies.”
“Yep. Phew.” I laughed. It sounded strained to my ears, but Dad bought it.
With a grin, he ran his hand through my mum’s hair, casually touching her like he always did, being affectionate without realising it. “In that case, go have fun. Spend the night, get your friend back, and as long as you’re home by ten p.m. tomorrow night, I won’t send out the search party.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You okay, love?” Mum asked quietly. “You don’t seem quite yourself.”
“I’m fine, Mum. Honest. Bit nervous about seeing her, after everything that’s happened, but I’m also super excited to have her back in my life.”
“Well, I hope you slip right back where you left off.”
“Night, little fish. Keep your phone on so we can call you if needed,” Dad muttered, his attention already back on whatever Netflix program they’d chosen.
Mum studied me for another terrifying second before she blew me a kiss and waved. “Bye, sweetheart. Have fun.”
“I will.”
Darting back to my room, I quickly changed from the slouchy grey jumper I’d thrown on over my bikini after I left Aslan and slipped on a slinky ombre maxi dress that looked like a sunset. Vibrant orange on the chest before bleeding to blue, navy, purple, and black by my toes.
Running a brush through my wind-swept hair, I nodded approval in the mirror as my naturally dark hair shimmered with gold highlights from the sun’s bleaching. The salt always gave it volume and wildness, giving me the perfect boho chic that took no time at all. A chic that Zara always fought so hard to achieve with hairspray and teasing.
My heart clenched.
Zara.
She had no idea I was going to see her.
Why would she? We hadn’t spoken since the week I broke up with Joel and I tried to talk to her at school. She’d thrown her Coke bottle at me and screamed in my face. She’d yelled at everyone listening that I’d broken her brother’s heart and was now a whore and a pariah.
I’d kept my distance after that.
But...then Aslan happened.
Falling in love happened.
Being told I was a mistake happened.
I needed to talk to someone. Anyone. But when I stalked her on Facebook, intending to send her a message begging for her forgiveness, I’d noticed she was having a house party. Her parents were overseas again, which meant...she was free to play.
She’d be happy on vodka.
She’d be high on hosting a great party.
A face-to-face meeting would be better than an impersonal message. If I grovelled hard enough, surely, she would let me be her friend again?
Catching my eyes in the mirror, I straightened my shoulders, applied a liberal amount of mascara, then grabbed my house keys and phone, and slipped out the front door.
* * * * *
My ears rang with how loud the music was.
If she didn’t turn the songs down, the police would soon visit for noise control.
Clutching my phone, I weaved around the familiar large house that I’d practically grown up in the past few years.
A lot bigger and grander than mine, Zara’s parents had prided themselves on renovating a two-story brick monstrosity into something super fancy with openable skylights, large glass windows, sliders onto wraparound balconies, and white carpet in the bedrooms.
For all the size and pristineness of their home, I preferred mine with its shabby loved exterior, natural pool, and walking distance to the beach. This house was trapped in the maze of suburbia, perched on its patch of manicured grass, not permitted to weather or decay.
Teenagers spilled on the front lawn and every room downstairs. Their chaos gave me access to Zara’s house without having to announce myself.
Slipping through the front door, I followed the open plan living from lounge to movie room to another lounge before entering the cabinet-glossy kitchen. I searched for the gorgeous tanned skin and blonde hair of my friend. I recognised a few people from school but no one paid me any mind. No one asked why I was there or offered me a drink.
I skirted gossiping groups and narrowly avoided being squashed by a drunk dancing couple.
But still no Zara.
Stepping outside, the air clogged with sweet-smelling vape clouds. The glass roof and open-sided conservatory was my favourite part of Zara’s home, and it seemed her guests agreed, all congregating en masse.