by Mia Hoddell
It may sound strange, but it works; rather than keep it inside like I used to, I begin to write. I imagine that she may actually be reading them so I write as if she could.
From: Neve Colvin
To: Neve Colvin
You think you’re a victim and you can play the part well, but in reality you don’t know the meaning of the word. If you’re the victim, then what am I?
Consumed in your whirlwind of rage, you can’t think straight. You speak before you think, say the first thought that comes into your mind, and yes, it hurts. You just react. There’s no thought put into any of it. Like poisonous barbs they cut me and sting, but you don’t even know you’re doing it.
That doesn’t mean I forgive you. I’ve tried numerous times to explain what you do to me, but it doesn’t sink in. Instead you turn everything around … blame it on me. How is it my fault?
When you finally calm down, you think you have the right to point fingers, but how can you do that when you have no recollection of what you’ve said? You can’t blame me for all of the shit happening between us. If you shout at me, I’ll defend myself.
Look in the mirror. It’s not me who caused this, it’s you.
It’s your destructive personality that is incapable of reasoning with anyone if they take the opposite view. You don’t care about me. I don’t think you ever have. If you did, why would you constantly want me to do things that hurt? Why is everything I do not good enough? Why is who I am not enough for you?
Maybe you find it easier to blame me. If that’s what you want, go ahead. There is nothing more you can say to me that will make me think any less of you.
I’m used to your toxic presence.
I’m used to living in fear of doing something that’ll bring on your wrath.
But there’s one thing you never considered from all of this: I can leave. I can cut you off and never see you again. You’ve destroyed all hope of ever having a relationship with me, so now there’s nothing to stop me from going. You probably didn’t think I had the guts to do it, but I guess I proved you wrong.
While you’ve been yelling, screaming, and smashing things over the years I’ve been planning. The only reason I’ve put up with it for this long is because I needed a few more months to finalise things. However, today you pushed me too far. I may not have everything fully together, but I have enough.
I didn’t want to leave you like this. I was going to give you a letter and avoid all of the argument, but once again it was your temper that sped up the process. It wouldn’t have sunk in that way, would it?
That’s why I had to go in the end. You just aren’t going to change.
I don’t know if I’ll write again … I probably will if you have anything to do with it, but for now I want to be happy.
I’m choosing to live as who I am, and whether you accept that or not is no longer relevant to me.
Good-bye.
When the email sends and pings into my inbox, I log out and shut down the computer. The screen is just about to fade and switch off when I catch a glimpse at the time. I didn’t realise it was so late—almost midnight—and suddenly guilt is spreading through me for kicking Blake out of his own room for so long. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t come knocking, but then again he’s always been good at giving me privacy when I need it.
Replacing my laptop into the travel case, I slide it under the bed and pad barefoot over to the door. I can hear the muffled sounds from the TV on the other side of the wood, so gently I open the door. Only the back of Blake’s head is visible over the back of the sofa and he doesn’t turn at the small creak.
My feet tap against the floorboards as I walk over to him. “Blake,” I whisper, but I get no response.
“Blake,” I try again, my voice rising only faintly. The reason he doesn’t reply becomes obvious when I round the arm of the sofa. His head is lolling back against the chair, eyes shut, and his lips slightly parted while his breaths come in long, slow cycles. Gazing at him, I realize he looks so peaceful that I almost don’t want to wake him up. In fact, when I think about it, leaving him on the sofa would probably be the least embarrassing option because we wouldn’t be going to bed together. However, the gnawing thought that it’s not right to steal his bed while he suffers from a crick in his neck and a bad back by crashing on the sofa because I needed space refuses to let me.
Tentatively, I reach out and poke Blake on the shoulder. His body sways to one side and rolls back when I remove my hand.
“Blake, come on. You can’t stay here all night.” I push him again and his arm reaches up to his face, covering his eyes as he groans.
“Need to buy more pineapples … almost out … and peaches.”
“You can buy pineapples and any other type of fruit you want tomorrow, you need to go to bed now.” Speaking at a normal level, I poke him once more and his eyes gradually open so he’s squinting at me.
“What’s up, Stripes? And why are you talking about fruit?” He drags his hand over his face as if he can rub away his tiredness.
“You’re the one talking about fruit, not me; something about needing pineapples and peaches. Anyway, I thought you’d rather sleep in your bed than on the sofa. You didn’t look very comfortable.”
He glances around the small living room for a second, taking in his surroundings before hauling himself up. His eyes are still hooded as he reaches out to stretch and unkink all of the aches he’s probably gained. “Thanks,” he still sounds half asleep while he drags his tired feet towards the door. When he starts pulling his shirt over his head and reaching for the button on his jeans, I avert my eyes.
“I’ll … get changed in the bathroom,” I stammer, racing past him to grab my clothes and flee the room. He doesn’t even seem to notice my embarrassment in his dazed state, so with any luck he’ll have fallen asleep again by the time I’ve finished getting ready for bed if I stall a little.
Having done everything else, I’m about to clean my teeth when I remember I told Blake to leave all of my toiletries—a decision I’m beginning to regret. I take in the cabinets and drawers in the room, sure that Blake has a spare somewhere. However, when my search comes up empty I grumble and resign myself to the idea I’m going to have to wait until morning to question him.
I run a brush through my hair, then after putting all of my belongings away I realise I can’t stall any longer. Heading out into the room, I exhale in relief when I see Blake sprawled out on his front, face buried into the pillow, and asleep. He’s taken the left side of the bed and only the bright moonlight fills the room to allow me to see where I’m going as I walk as quietly as possible around to the other side of the bed.
Drawing back the covers, I’m about to slide in next to him when I notice my duvet and pillow on the floor next to my case. I pause, one knee on the bed, and reach for the pillow to swap them over. Once I’ve successfully achieved that without Blake stirring, I move for the duvet, hauling it between us into the middle of the bed. Folding it over, I create a physical barrier between the two of us. It’s not that I don’t trust Blake—I know he would never do anything—yet I can’t help but feel awkward about the situation for now.
When the duvet is firmly in place, I ease down on to my side and lift the covers up around me. They wash me in Blake’s scent, almost like a hug, but it’s not enough to calm me so I can sleep. Despite sending an email that is meant to enable me to let go of what just happened, I don’t think I really paused to consider everything I’ve done. Before I was angry, but now the reality that I’ve moved out and the things I said to Mum are starting to sink in. I assumed the weight I felt lifting would remain with me, yet I still feel bogged down, all of the pressure reapplied. It would be wrong for me to say I’m already missing home as I’m not, but there is some kind of emptiness inside of me that hadn’t been there earlier. I can tell you all of the things it isn’t—guilt, regret, uncertainty—but what it really is I can’t begin to fathom.
Letting out a heavy breath, I ro
ll off my side and on to my back. I don’t know what I’d do without Blake in my life. Through everything he has been the only solid consistency. When all of my friends turned their back on me, he stayed. When my mum started putting me down, he was there to pick up all of the pieces and offer me a place to stay. He’s the one who makes me laugh, makes me happy, and no matter what the situation, he can erase all thoughts except for what he is saying. I would honestly rather have only Blake in my life than one hundred fake friends.
When I catch a glimpse of the clock I notice it’s getting on 2 a.m. Willing my eyes to shut, I force them to remain that way so sleep can claim me.
CHAPTER NINE
Blake
Waking up, the first thing I notice is I’m alone. That wouldn’t usually strike me as odd, but I could have sworn I felt Neve get into bed with me last night. Even if I was on the verge of falling asleep when she finally appeared, I do know she was definitely there. Her body curled up next to me is not something I could miss; her presence alone enough to make my pulse spike. If that wasn’t enough, her repeated sighs sent my heart into a different kind of frenzy. I could almost hear the thoughts going on inside of her head as she lay there. However, not wanting to make it awkward, I had remained still and pretended not to notice. The longing to roll over and comfort her was excruciating, but I refrained and finally forced myself to sleep so Neve could have the privacy she no doubt thought she had.
Stretching out in bed, a warm, heavy weight next to me finally registers in my mind. How I missed it to begin with is beyond me. The lump has moulded to fit around my body and is pressing into my back. When I roll over and part gets trapped beneath me I glance across, not able to stifle the chuckle.
She is unbelievable.
With a small shake of my head, I drag myself out of my cocoon and into the chilly morning air that comes with the changing seasons of autumn to winter. Neve really is nowhere to be found, but the small crack in my door leads me to believe she’s somewhere in the flat.
I grab my jeans before heading out into the kitchen. The first thing I notice is Neve perched on the counter, still in her tattered, skimpy pyjamas, and Robbie wandering around in only his boxers. She’s watching him with interest as he speaks, talking her through the cupboards—a conversation I think is unnecessary as she’s been here plenty—and pulls out the cereal.
“Morning, Stripes,” I say, moving past Robbie to get to the fridge. I give him a meaningful look when my back is to her so she doesn’t see the warning in my eyes.
“What time do you call this? I’ve been up for two hours,” she teases, but I only roll my eyes. Not that she notices because she’s thanking Robbie who’s declared he’s going to have a shower.
“It’s ten o’clock, that’s hardly late. Why are you up so early? Didn’t you sleep well?”
Neve shrugs and slides off the counter to grab the bowl Robbie left on the side for her. “No reason, just woke up early.”
I don’t believe her. The way she pokes at the cereal in her bowl in a distracted gesture is a clear sign she’s uncomfortable.
“What was up with the Great Wall of China on the bed? You don’t trust me or something?” My lips curve, allowing the joke in my eyes to shine through. I want to dispel her negative emotions and catch a glimpse of the smile I love.
When she lifts her gaze from the food, her brow is drawn low over her eyes and pink tinges her cheeks. “I–I …”
I let out a laugh at her stutter. “Relax, Stripes. If I wanted to try something I would have. A duvet isn’t going to stop me.”
Her cheeks flame crimson. “Blake, that isn’t helping.”
“Sorry.” I nod in the direction of the small table I normally eat at, and Neve follows me over. “Did you sleep okay in the end?”
“I guess so … at least I did when my thoughts finally stopped.”
I don’t need to ask what she’s talking about; I can imagine well enough where her mind is at without needing an explanation. Knowing someone their whole life has certain benefits in situations like this.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it again when Robbie comes back into the room noisily. “What’d I miss?”
Pressing my lips together, I glare at him until he meets my gaze. He’s not taking my warnings seriously. “I was filling Neve in on your disgusting habits and irritating personality.”
“Me? You’re the one who likes to eat their cereal with banana flavoured milk. Did you know that?” He smirks, but I ignore his attempt to humiliate me. Leaning back in my chair, arms crossed causally over my chest, I wait for Neve’s response. There is little she doesn’t know about.
“Yep. He also showers with socks on, but don’t ask me how I found that out.” Her cheeks have turned an even deeper shade of red. She drops her gaze to focus on chasing the last few flakes of cereal around her bowl.
“Oh well now you have to tell me!” Robbie exclaims.
“Don’t you have better things to do? And for the record, I don’t do that anymore.” I hope getting involved will discourage him, but if anything the intrigue gets even brighter in his eyes.
“It has to be bad if you don’t want me knowing.”
“It was nothing, just a mix up with bathroom locks. Stripes walked in on me once.”
“Wait! You knew about that?” Neve’s head shoots up, her eyes locking with mine. The glare she’s fixing me with is dampened by the furious blush coating her usually pale skin.
“Uh … Yeah? The scream kind of gave you away.”
“But you never said anything.”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you. Bringing it up would have done so, and I was twelve. What was I meant to say?”
Neve doesn’t reply, leaving a break in the conversation.
“So why Stripes?” Robbie asks, causing Neve to groan and bury her head in her arms on top of the table.
“We were coming home from primary school one day and she tripped. When she got up she was covered in dust but it looked stripey. The name kind of stuck from then on.”
“Yep, I’ve tried to ditch it but he refuses to let me.”
“Of course. You’ll forever be Stripes. It’s cute and suits you.”
She makes a disgusted sound and stands to place her bowl in the dishwasher. “I’m going to shower.”
Robbie’s gaze follows her all the way into my room, sending spikes of irrational jealousy through me. The way his eyes linger on her ass and the natural sway of her hips stirs the possessiveness I feel towards her. Bringing my foot back, I kick him under the table—hard.
“What?” he hisses, rounding on me. His eyes form thin slits and his jaw sets in a tight line.
“I told you to stay away from her.”
“I’m only being friendly. If we’re going to be living in the same space then I thought being friends would be best.”
“Yeah, right … friends.”
Before Robbie can respond a knock comes from the front door. “You expecting anyone?”
I shake my head, returning to my fruit salad while Robbie heads over to the door. He’s just about to pull it open when the knock comes again, more urgent this time. With a frustrated breath at our visitor’s impatience and mutter, Robbie opens it to reveal an annoyed looking Amber.
Her eyes home in on me as soon as she walks in without an invitation.
“Not that this isn’t a nice surprise, but what are you doing here, Amber?”
She places her bag on the counter, her eyes lingering on my bare chest when I swivel in my seat to face her. Before I know it she’s between my legs, wrapping her arms around my neck and bending over so her cleavage is directly in line with my eyes. For once, it’s not my fault that my gaze is drawn there.
Clearing my throat, I stand. The action forces her to take a step back and her arms to stretch, her head tilting back to following my face. She’s staring up at me, her big green eyes filled with confusion, and my instinct to placate her kicks in
. When my hands find her hips, stroking the exposed flesh, her lips move towards mine. Neve flashes before my eyes and at the last second I turn so Amber’s lips connect with my cheek instead.
“You left in a hurry last night so I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she says, unperturbed by my actions.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s sorted.”
“Do you want to go get something to eat then?”
I hesitate. I know I should make it up to Amber but I don’t want to leave Neve alone. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Maybe some other time.”
She nods, although her expression conveys the exact opposite. In fact, she’s about to speak when Neve’s voice interrupts from behind me. “Blake, you don’t happen to have a spare toothbrush, do you? I didn’t think through leaving everything—”
I turn at the same time she suddenly stops talking. She’s standing in the doorway to my room still only dressed in her pyjamas. Her hair is ruffled from sleep and her mouth is open to form an O. Amber’s pulling away from me at the sight; her arms sliding from my neck so quickly it’s hard to misinterpret what she’s thinking. Reaching down, I grip her hips to stop her from breaking the contact altogether.
“Sorry, no. Go get in the shower and Robbie will have one by the time you get out.” He gives me a ‘what the hell’ look but doesn’t speak until Neve leaves.
“Why me?”
“Think of it as a step in the right direction towards being friends.” I also nod my head subtly towards Amber, hoping he’ll get I need to talk to her alone. Thankfully, he reaches for his keys and heads out the door, grumbling the whole way until it’s cut off by him shutting the door. Almost as soon as the lock clicks Amber rounds on me.
“Please tell me this isn’t what I’m thinking, and you didn’t leave me to be with her.”
