Page 9 of Anteros' Return

“Nice to meet you, Emily.” He flashed me a heart stopping smile, and I knew from that moment I was a goner.

His dark blond curls flopped over his forehead, just brushing the tops of his brows, slightly tousled in a way that looked effortless—like he’d just rolled out of bed and still managed to look annoyingly perfect. There was something about him that pulled me in without trying.

Beckett tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “Emily, do you need a ride to school too? My mum is waiting outside, and there’s enough room for one more.”

“Would that be okay?” I asked him, my gaze temporarily shifting to my dad’s. He gave me his approval in the form of a thumbs up. “She won’t mind?”

“He wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t fine,” Harry interrupted on an eye roll. “I call shotgun!”

“You can’t call shotgun,” I told him. “It’s his mum’s car.” I scoffed, throwing my bag on my shoulder as I stood from the table.

“I can and I did. You snooze, you lose, guys.”

“I don’t mind keeping you company in the back,” Beckett muttered as I felt my cheeks redden slightly.

I made my way out to the car, and true to his word, he kept me company in the back, paying me more attention than I anticipated, while Harry sat up front and tinkered with the radio.

“I’ve never had a mate with a sister before,”Beckett murmured beside me. As he shifted in his seat, his leg bumped into mine—just a soft brush, but it sent a spark straight through me. He didn’t move it right away, and neither did I. I tried to play it cool, staring out the window like my heart wasn’t suddenly doing backflips. But I could feel the warmth of his leg against mine, steady and close, and it made it very hard to focus on anything else.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I teased, tucking my phone into my bag.

“Trust me, I’m not disappointed.” He whispered loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough for my brother not to.

“Oh…” I must have sounded so incredibly awkward not knowing what to respond with, but I wasn’t used to male attention, especially not someone like Beckett’s, who made my heart flutter every time he so much as looked at me.

His mum pulled the car to a stop and said, “Here we are! Have a lovely day you three. I’ll pick you up from this same spot after school.”

“Cheers, Mum. See you later.”

“Yeah, see ya, Mrs. Ashmore.” Harry smiled as he climbed out of the passenger seat and before shutting the door.

Beckett held the door open for me as I clutched my bag close to me and followed behind. As soon as he closed the door, Harry pulled him away. It was the last I saw of Beckett that day until his mum picked us up later that afternoon.

Later that evening, I was icing a cake for a local shop owner's birthday party when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen, caller ID telling me it was my mum. I knew the exact reason for this call, she’d be making sure I was on time with the cake. As if I’d ever forget or be delayed.

“Hi, mum.” I smiled.

“Darling, how’s the cake coming along? Will it be done by tomorrow?”

I knew it.

“It’ll be finished by tonight, don’t worry.” I smiled to myself at how worked up she got when she wasn’t in control.

“So, Mike told me about what happened with Liam during training.” She sighed from the other end.

“Of course he did. It’s not his bloody business!” I sighed, that heavy sensation of betrayal filling me over Mike’s gossiping.

Mum snickered through the line. “I honestly don’t know how that man dared to show his face around here again after what he did to you.”

“Mum, just drop it. I don’t need to talk or think about him, okay?” I sat on the stool beside me, clutching my phone tightly as images of Beckett and me swarmed my head. “It’s not like he’s going to stay anyway.”

“I certainly hope he doesn’t. He was quick enough to leave the first time around. Let’s just hope he does the exact same thing again. It would save us all a lot of grief.”

“Hmm.” My mum had the tendency to trash talk Beckett. I didn’t exactly blame her, but every time she did it, my heartcracked a little more. She didn’t realise that it hurt me. I’d taken it for years, every single one of my family, my mum, dad, and brother made their upset and hatred for Beckett known. None of it made it any easier, which was exactly why I was ready to end the call so soon. “I’m going to go and finish this off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, darling.” She responded. “Oh, and if you need help with the cake tomorrow, call your dad.”

“Will do.” I removed the phone from between my ear and shoulder and hung up, letting myself forget everything that played on my mind as I continued doing what I loved.

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