Page 19 of F*ckboys

"Fallon," a voice calls out, and I turn to see him standing by our old corner table. The sight of him sends a shiver down my spine, a mixture of excitement and dread. This time he's wearing a business suit that hugs his hard body perfectly, a stark contrastfrom the signature leather jacket he constantly wore in high school. It turns out he looks equally hot in either attire. I walk over, each step echoing our past encounters in this very place.

"Hey," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hi Fallon," he replies softly, his eyes searching mine with a mix of remorse and determination.

"Sit, please," he gestures to the seat across from him. I comply, my hands shaking slightly as I pull out the chair and lower myself into it. Aksel's gaze never leaves my face, and I struggle to keep my emotions under control.

"Thanks for coming," he says quietly.

"Yep," I nod, my voice wavering with the intensity of my feelings. "Here we are."

"Here we are," he echoes with a nod, his fingers tapping nervously on the table.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks, his gaze steady on mine.

"A double espresso with a side of seltzer," I reply, my throat tight with unspoken words.

"Okay." He signals the waiter and places the order, then turns his attention back to me. "Fallon, I want you to know that I didn't ask you here to hurt you by dredging up the past. I just... the other night, dinner, was just so amazing and I—I needed to see you again."

"Needed?" The word feels sharp on my tongue, and I can't help but bristle at the implication that he has any claim on me after all this time. But he has a point. The other night was pretty amazing, if unexpected.

"Please, let me explain." His voice is soft, almost pleading, and I feel the smallest flicker of hope ignite in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for us to mend the rift that's kept us apart for so many years. Still, I'm not going to give in that easily.

"Fine," I say, folding my arms across my chest. "Talk."

Aksel takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on mine as he begins to lay bare the emotions that have haunted him since our last encounter. And as I listen to his words, a part of me wonders if we're both dancing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between the possibility of forgiveness and the inevitability of heartbreak.

"Fallon," he begins, his voice rough with emotion. "I owe you an explanation."

A bitter laugh escapes me, even as the ache in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. "You think?" I retort, unable to keep the venom from my words. "An explanation would have been nice, oh, I don't know—ten or so years ago?"

"Fair enough," he concedes, his expression a mix of remorse and determination. "But I'm here now, and I want to make things right."

The weight of our shared history hangs heavy in the air, suffocating me with the ghosts of memories long buried. My secret omission about this meeting from Mia weighs on me, adding to the angst that coils around my heart like a vice.

"Fine," I snap, my voice trembling despite myself. "Let's hear it."

Aksel takes a deep breath, his fingers continuing to drum nervously on the table. As our coffees arrive, the bitter scent mingling with the heady aroma of fresh grounds, I can't help but feel that they're a fitting metaphor for what's about to unfold between us—the promise of potential resolutions laced with the sting of truths long suppressed.

"First, I want you to know how sorry I am," Aksel begins, and I can hear the sincerity in his voice, even as my walls remain firmly in place. Then again growing up in a family like his you need to learn to be a pretty good actor. "I never meant to hurt you, Fallon. That's the last thing I ever wanted."

"Really?" I challenge, crossing my arms defensively. "Because it sure as hell didn't seem that way at the time."

"Believe me, I know how it looked," he admits, his gaze never leaving mine. "But there's so much more to the story than you know. So many things I couldn't tell you back then—things I wish I could have."

"Like what?" My pulse races, a torrent of emotions surging through me as I brace myself for the revelations he's about to share. In this charged atmosphere, my heart and mind wage war with one another, torn between the desire for closure and the fear of the pain it might bring.

Aksel hesitates, clearly struggling with where to begin. And as he delves into the complexities of our past, I find myself hanging on every word, desperate for answers yet dreading them all the same. His slate grey eyes hold mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine—a potent mix of vulnerability and resolve, as if he's prepared to bare his soul for me to see.

"Fallon, I need you to understand how much I've changed," Aksel says, his voice low and steady, betraying the gravity of his words. "I was young, stupid, and selfish back then. But I've grown, and I want to make amends for what I did to you."

My skepticism claws at my insides, gnawing at the flicker of hope that threatens to ignite within me. My fingers tap rhythmically against the small ceramic espresso cup, a silent drumbeat marking the tempo of my racing thoughts. At this rate, we could start a band with our fingers as the instruments.

"Words are easy, Aksel," I reply, my tone a guarded whisper. "How do I know this isn't just another one of your games?"

"Because I'm not the same person who played those games, Fallon." His hands clench into fists on the table, knuckles whitening as he struggles to convey the depth of his sincerity. "I can prove it to you if you give me the chance."

His gaze never wavers, but I can see the desperation lurking beneath the surface, a plea for redemption that echoes through the quiet space between us.

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