Page 38 of The Fate Of Us

“Grow up.” she spits as she slides out of her side and slowly glides into the spacenext to me.

The entire right side of my body is now suddenly on fire, and I am very aware of howclose she is to me. Her scent nearly paralyses me, tormenting me with waves of fresh berries and deathly sweet vanilla. Luckily, my height is serving me well as I tower over her body, meaning she can’t see that I’m squeezing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose to help me fight whatever she’s unknowingly doing to me.

I know I was all up in her space on my birthday, but that was different. There’s a layerof causality to this that I don’t like. It’s all too familiar. And my heart is having a hard time deciding if I’m acting or if I’m beginning to enjoy having her this close again.

“Let’s go from Anastasia’s last line,” Booms Seb, and the crew behind him busythemselves with moving the cameras to face us. “And, action!”

She switches again. “He’ll ask me to prom, and I’ll say yes.”

I pull away from her, my arm casually draping along the back of the booth. “And whois this mystery man you’re picturing doing all this for you, then?”

She stiffens as Anastasia, because, if it wasn’t blindingly obvious, she’s picturingHarry doing all this sweet stuff for her. “Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t really have a face.” she insists, before dropping her attention to her twisty straw.

I prepare myself for Harry’s big bombshell line, which I’m assuming had everyonekicking their feet and giggling when they read this for the first time in the book.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” I say so casually, waiting for Addy to flip her face tome, her eyes wide and mouth gaping.

“What?” She gasps, dropping her bottle and straw back onto the table.

“The guy you’re picturing. It’s me.”

She shakes her head, her eyes falling onto me, and the soft corners of her face mesmeriseme in a way that they haven’t for a long time. “How do you—”

“CUT!” Seb’s voice calls, breaking my and Addy’s staring competition. “What is it?”He shouts to someone in the shadows, tucked away behind a camera. “Oh, shit. Right.Fuck, okay.” he rubs a hand against his chin before hollering at me and Addy. “Guys, just give me a few minutes; I have to deal with something super quick. Take five.”

I feel Addy pull away from me, probably realising how cosy she got to me in the finalseconds before the scene was stopped.The crew around us filters out, and only a few camera operators and light handlershover around us in the director’s absence. I’m expecting Addy to slide out and leave me, seeing as though she’s no longer contractually required to be near me.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she rests her head back against the booth, blowing out a hefty breath beforebringing her hands to cover her face.

A twinge of panic glides through my body, that historical ache in my heart fromseeing her so stressed triggering something inside me. I could recognise that action anywhere. It’s the same one she’d do when I’d catch her through her bedroom window, coming home at stupid o’clock in the morning after another full day of auditions or filming.

She’d do what she’s doing now, for about a minute or two, before scrambling underher pillow to pull out her storybook, and she’d sit and scribble until sleep captured her.

And unfortunately, I don’t stop my mouth before it blurts out, “You okay?”

She doesn’t budge, but I can feel her tense up beside me. She’s not as smooth as shethinks. “I’m fine.” she spits from behind her hands.

“Yeah, you look it, too.” I retaliate, not budging, because my arm that’s still drapedacross the back of the booth is acting as a makeshift pillow for her head. “I’ve seen that look before, Addy. You don’t have to do this.”

She peaks out from behind her fingers. “What, tolerate you?”

“Toleratethis.”Her hands fully come off her face, revealing her cheeks that havebeen flushed a shade similar to her hair. For a moment, her eyes glide over to me, and while I have her attention, I don’t waste any time before I remind her, “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her eyes search mine for the punchline, but she won’t find one. I truly meaneverything I just said to her. I was the first person she told about not liking acting. I was the person she’d cry to when she got so overwhelmed with her days that writing her feelings into characters for her stories wasn’t enough to take away that drowning feeling.

“I told you acting wasn’t what I was meant for. Seems I can’t lie about loving this lifeas well as I used to.” A small, humourless chuckle slips from her mouth and remains parted, two lines of peachy pink tormenting me like her scent that’s still strangling me.

And if I hold still for long enough, I can see the girl I fell in love with all those yearsago, without being reminded that she never truly loved me.

“No, I don’t think anyone else would have a clue that you’d rather be reading… orwriting.” I feel her entire soul freeze this time. “I think I’ve just had longer to learn how to recognise when you’re really smiling.”

I see her remember then. I scan her eyes as the thousands of memories we sharedtogether race through her mind like a montage. Her fiery eyes roam my earthy green ones, realising that maybe there was still something more than decade-old angst between us.

I want there to be. I want there to be some sort of love between us, just as much as I want to see a real smile grace her lips.

I dip my head closer to her. “Look, Addy, maybe we should—”

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