It was fun back then. When nothing mattered and Harlow and I were a means to an end.
Users, we relied on each other. Harlow wanted to keep her reign of being the bad Brooks and I wanted a distraction from the growing numbness inside of me.
But somewhere along the way, Harlow started to want more. More of my time, more of me. More than I was willing to give her. I broke things off around the time Sayer was sixteen, but I still kept coming around.
Harlow didn’t mind. As long as I hung out with her, she was content, but if she caught me in a room with Perfect Sayer, as Harlow liked to refer to the younger Brooks, she’d go ballistic.
Possessive and jealous even though we weren’t together anymore. I was Harlow’s, not Sayer’s. She wanted Sayer to have nothing she did.
And suddenly, I had another way to fight the numbness.
I started to play a game. A game where I’d actively search out Sayer, hunting her down in her own house.
Sometimes I’d find her in the kitchen in her prep school uniform drinking sparkling water, her plaid skirt an inch or two shorter than what was permitted on campus with her knee-high socks askew.
Sometimes I’d find her in the pool house wearing a barely-there bikini. She was still a minor, but her body was anything but childish. It took everything I had in those moments to hold myself back.
I knew she had a crush on me. It would’ve been so easy to walk up to her and take what I wanted, knowing she’d give herself over to me without a clue of what that really meant.
But no matter what bullshit truth is spewed about me around this gossip whore of a city, I don’t have any jailbait tendencies. I never laid a hand on Sayer, but Harlow never knew that.
She’d find us and start screaming her head off. One time she even broke a priceless crystal vase in a fit of anger.
Messing with Harlow always distracted me from all the shit that swam around in my head. But what distracted me even more was Sayer. The innocence in her gray eyes as she stared up at me, the way she clung to my every word like I was her salvation. And maybe I was. I knew she didn’t have that many friends.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeking out Sayer to mess with Harlow and started going to her for me. To hear her laugh, they sounded like little bells that made me feel a little lighter. To talk about her day, how empty she felt on the inside. It mirrored what lived in me.
What we had was simple. It was mundane. It was enough.
Sayer wasn’t the sun brightening my day, she was the stars that hung around the moon. The night sky was dull without her. I felt dull without her.
And then she left. Leaving me with Harlow.
For six long years. Now that she’s home, I want her back.
Harlow leaving is a pain in my ass, the ledger she stole can ruin me. Ruin all that I’ve built, all that was left to me. But it’s the perfect excuse to get close to Sayer.
She was right when she said she was the only person able to help me do this. There’s no one that gets under Harlow’s skin like her sister.
“Where are we going?” Sayer asks as we walk the streets of the city.
I don’t answer. She can find out when we get there.
Apparently, that doesn’t work for her.
After a couple feet of us walking without me acknowledging her, Sayer stops, making me as well.
We’re still holding hands.
If I let go, I have a suspicion she’s going to bolt and I’m not in the mood for any chasing tonight.
“We need to lay down some ground rules.”
I only raise one eyebrow, knowing it annoys her when I do.
Case in point, she glares, squeezing my hand. It’s kind of cute she thinks that could hurt me. “I’m serious, Noah.”
“The floor is yours, Brooks.”