Page 28 of The Promise

Sean’s dimples sink into his cheeks as his face lights up smugly. “Maybe it’s not different at all.”

“No, no, no,” I get up, pacing in front of Sean, hands sunk deep in my hair. “I’m not in love,” I point a finger at him, then drop it. “Can’t do that, won’t do that, absolutely not, no.” I stomp off up the stairs and slam the bedroom door behind me, sinking down to the ground and burying my face from the world.

“No, no, no, no…” I mutter to myself, head shaking incessantly, trying desperately to make what I know to be true, not true. But I can’t and I know I can’t.

Ping!

For fuck’s sake, not now, please god.

I know who that text is from before I even check my phone and when my screen lights up with the last twenty messages — the ones I’ve been purposefully ignoring — I let my face fall into my hands again.

Mum:

‘Ky, can you reply to me?’

Mum:

‘Kyle! Helloooo?’

Mum:

‘I just need £20 to get me through to the end of the week.’

Mum:

‘You always were a selfish shit, just like your grandad.’

“Fuck.” I slam my phone into the carpet and sink the heels of my palms deep into my eye sockets.

My mum has been texting me for days now and I haven’t responded even once to her. She gets like this when she’s in desperate need of a fix and has already spent her monthly benefit money on drugs. I used to send her money when she asked, the guilt tripping and begging would get to me, pulling at my heart strings and I'd convince myself she just needed to eat. But I’ve learnt my lesson the hard way too many times now, going home on a weekend to check on her and finding her passed out on the couch, lips white and body corpse like. I’ve always wondered when the day will come that I'll walk into that dingy old flat in North London and find her without a pulse, foam spewing from her lips and her body limp like a puppet. The day hasn’t come yet of course, but the clock is ticking.

I lock my phone screen and whip my clothes off, climbing into bed and breathing in the lingering smell of Molly’s pineapple scented shampoo that clings to my pillows.

I swear that girl is the only thing that keeps me sane.

Chapter 20

Molly

Last night was fucking weird, it’s the first night in my life that I’ve slept in the same bed as a guy I'm seeing and not had sex with him. The lines between Kyle and I are blurring and it’s making me itchy to think about. Somehow I’m watching them melt away and yet I can’t find the strength to stop them, to stand firm in my ‘no strings attached’ rule. I know my feelings are warping into something else, something I don't fucking want to feel, but can’t deny at the same time. He picked me up last night after practice and took me back to his place. He rubbed my sore, aching feet and put on one of my favourite films, whilst we snuggled in his monster sized bed. His fingers found each lock of my bright hair, twirling it like a ray of sunshine around his pinky and dropping light kisses to my forehead, as we cuddled together in a peaceful silence.

When I rub my eyes and scan the room, I don't see Kyle. The sunbeams are practically burning a hole in his carpet and it takes a moment for my sleepy eyes to adjust to the morning light. I swing my bare legs over the edge of his bed and land on the floor with a soft thud. I can hear murmuring downstairs, so I rake my hair back into a braid and check my body in the mirror. The purple hickeys Kyle covered me in are fading into violet puddles now, that are barely visible through my lightly tanned skin. I don't bother to cover myself, letting Kyle’s love for my body penetrate my self confidence as I head downstairs in nothing but a set of black kind of plain, but still sexy lingerie. I don’t need to hide myself from the guys down there, three out of four of them have already seen me either half naked or totally naked, so I saunter down the stairs to make myself a coffee. The four of them are in the living room, Nick getting way too animated for this time in the morning, banging on about some sort of new strategy they need to try for their game tonight.

“Morning guys,” I sing as I swish down the stairs and into the kitchen. Kyle immediately jumps up from his seat on the sofa and blocks his friends’ view of me with his six-foot-two frame. “What the hell are you doing Davis?” I click the kettle on, stretching up to grab a mug from the top cupboard. Kyle reaches over me, still covering my entire body with his and takes the mug I'm trying to reach, placing it onto the counter.

“Mol, can you go upstairs please?” He murmurs, dipping his face to mine and pleading with his eyes.

I pop a hip. “No, I'm making a coffee.”

“I’ll make it for you, just go upstairs and put some clothes on.” Sean, Nick and Lewis all twist their heads at that comment, and I duck around Kyle to grab the caramel syrup.

His eyes pop and he leaps in front of me again. “Don't fucking look at her!” He yells and the three pairs of eyes avert rapidly.

“You’re so fucking weird Kyle,” I snort, pouring the now boiled water onto the coffee granules, the smell wafting straight up into my nostrils and making the saliva pool on my tongue.

Kyle shifts uncomfortably, hands finding my hips, his huge body still hovering over me. “I don’t want them seeing you like, that…” his icy gaze travels down my body and a shiver rolls over me. I fucking love when he looks at me like that.

I fist a hip, eyebrows sassy as ever. “Why? You know you’re not the only guy I’ve had sex with right?”

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