Page 112 of I Was Always Yours (RCA: Royal Crown Academy)

As always, my body reacts to seeing him. My breath hitches, my heart skips a beat, my soul yearns to jump off a cliff and into his waiting arms.

He looks exactly like the last time I left him. Brows drawn down, black eyes, thunderous expression on his face, jaw clenched.

So handsome it hurts.

“Where are you?” He demands, his voice rough. The first words he’s said to me in a week, the first words since we ‘broke up or whatever’ as Bellamy aptly put it, and they’re demands.

“None of your business.” The words come out more slurred than I intended. “Put Bellamy back on.”

“Are you drunk?” He growls. Another demand.

Asshole.

“Of course I’m drunk. It’s Christmas.” I chirp back insolently.

“Who are you with? Are you safe?” He must be too distracted to recognize my house, specifically the balcony he used to climb onto when we were kids.

“I’m home, at my parents’ Christmas party. You’ll remember.” I add belatedly.

Nostalgia aches in my bones. He’d kissed me on the cheek at one of our Christmas parties, our first and only kiss. We’d accidentally found ourselves under a rogue piece of mistletoe, I’d been looking up at it and he’d taken a step forward and kissed me.

He’d been dangerously close, his mouth coming down mere millimeters away from mine. His lips had lingered a beat too long, like he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

It’d been the first time I’d felt a stirring in my lower belly, a physical yearning for him to match the emotional pull.

Neither have ever gone away since.

His voice is rough like sandpaper abrading my skin when he speaks.

“I remember.”

I wonder if that kiss meant anything to him, or if it lives hallowed only in my own memory.

“It’s about to start snowing.” I continue, wanting to get my mind off those dangerous thoughts. “Tomorrow, I want to try going sledding down Blind Hill like we used to.”

Blind Hill is a relatively small, man-made slope a few hundred meters from our houses. It’s where all the neighborhood kids used to rush to on snow days, excited by the prospect of tubing and sledding.Phoenix, Astor, and I used to use bin bags until my dad bought us an array of plastic luges. We’d stay out there for hours, until the sun came down or my mum came to get us, whichever came first.

“Actually, I’m not sure we still have the luges. I think we do, but maybe my mum got rid of them when I left for RCA. Either way, I want to sled tomorrow. I’ll figure it out.” I realize he hasn’t said anything in a minute. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

The combination of alcohol, nerves, and the reminder of our past together makes me babble inanely and head further into my jaunt down memory lane.

And now I’m apologizing to him when he’s the one who should be down on bended knee apologizing to me.

If I could slap the alcohol out of myself, I would. Where is Walter with that water he promised?

“You were always a safety hazard on a luge.” He points out, indulging my reminiscing. The ghost of a smile lifts his lips as his eyes caress my face like they’ve tended to lately.

Like I might be something precious to him.

“We can’t all be pro athletes, okay.” I say, stung. Okay,maybemy aim wasn’t the best and I had a proclivity for hurtling towards the tree line at thirty kilometers per hour, but I’m annoyed by how easily he dismisses the idea. “I don’t want to talk to you. Put Bellamy back on, please.”

His answering silence draws out for a couple of seconds as we stare at each other, in separate countries but intimately connected by technology.

“I want to talk to you.” He says finally, softly. Almost like a confession.

The words are weighted and I know he doesn’t mean just now, in this moment.

“Why?”

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