Page 11 of Blue in the Deep Blue Sea

Or at least it should’ve been.

Instead, he’d decided to spend the evening playing video games with Oliver. I could hear them from the living room, shouting and laughing, but I ignored them.

I sat on the top step of the staircase, listening as they crashed cars into walls on the small grey television. I never understood why Oliver always came here when he had giant screens back at the villa, but I’d stopped trying to make sense of him a long time ago.

The front door burst open.

Only one person ever came in like that.

“Annie,” I whispered, already on my feet as I hurried downstairs.

Her black hair was cropped into a pixie cut, carefully styled with a few curled strands pinned beside her left temple. She was always pale, but tonight her skin had turned a fiery shade of red. She’d told me she wanted a tan, so instead of sunscreen she’d rubbed herself with olive oil, hoping for bronze. Instead, she looked like a lobster cooked medium. She’d tried to hide it beneath pink glitter, but that only made the burn stand out more, matching her low-rise jeans and bright pink crop top.

She lifted two plastic shopping bags into the air before dropping them to spread her arms wide.

“3Malaka, I missed you.”

She pulled me into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to my cheek, leaving behind the bright pink imprint of her lipstick.

“Wow, Annie,” Oliver laughed. “Is the circus in town or what?”

“Ignore him.” I rolled my eyes. “You look gorgeous, and he needs to get his eyes checked.” I turned to glare at him. “The only clown in this house is Oliver Sinclair.”

“Grow up, Gabby,” he scoffed, never taking his eyes off the screen.

“You first,” I shot back before turning to Annie. “Can we go? Like, now? I can’t stand that asshole.”

She raised an eyebrow and led me outside to her little yellow Volkswagen Beetle. I opened the passenger door and climbed in, leaving my legs hanging out while I turned to face her.

Still smiling, she rested the two white plastic bags between us and began pulling things out one by one.

A white dress landed in my lap, followed by the glittery hair threads she loved weaving into my hair.

She leaned closer and gently pulled my dark brown curls free from the messy bun I’d thrown them into. Her fingers combed through it easily, teasing apart the tangled strands.

“So,” she said, separating a shimmering thread, “what’s going on with you and that Sinclair?”

She looped the thread into a small section of my hair.

“We just don’t like each other,” I sighed. “That’s all.”

“Then why is he always around?” she asked, weaving another thread in before starting a thin braid at the front.

“Gianni.”

One word.

The reason we kept getting pulled back into each other’s lives, even when everything else pushed us apart.

She finished one braid, then started another on the opposite side of my face. The shiny threads disappeared into the longerstrands at the back, and when I turned my head, they caught the light spilling through the car window, glimmering against the glass.

“But is that really all?” She lifted a brow. “His mouth may hate you, but his eyes always look like they’re trying to understand you.”

“It’s too late.”

I looked up at her.

“When we were kids, we promised we’d always be there for each other. But the moment someone else came along, I was always the one who mattered less.”