Page 5 of Whispered Promises

Laughing loudly, he throws another chocolate into his mouth, crunching loudly. “You got me. I know being mean is just your love language. Maybe I should be worried by how much you love me.”

Noah walks in and drops into his favourite chair beside me, scrubbing a hand across his face tiredly.

“Long day?”

He turns to me. “Yeah, one of the other teachers called in sick last minute, so I had to cover for them at the open evening, talking to potential students and their parents.”

“There’s enough dinner left over if you want something to eat,” Bry calls from the kitchen behind us.

Max perks up. “Leftovers?”

“I’m okay, thank you. Managed to grab some food before it started,” Noah responds.

“I’ll have some if no one else does,” Max throws in. He never turns down food. Suppose all that energy needs some sustenance.

“How you don’t give yourself heartburn is beyond me,” Bry mutters, sitting down and perching his laptop across his knees.

“Simple. It broke a long time ago,” he muffles around a mouthful of potatoes. “No heart, no heartburn.” He smirks, cheeks stuffed as full as a hamster’s.

Bry’s brow furrows. “That’s not how it works.”

“Or does it…?” Max queries, his fork waving in a circle before he points it at Bry’s pinched face.

I’m a surly bastard who’s difficult to be around, but it’s moments like this when I remember that it’s not just me they are putting up with. We all just live with each other’s bullshit, quirks, and traumas.

Why the fuck would I want to live alone when we’re all there for each other in some fucked-up way?

Nah, they’re my brothers, in every sense but blood, and we do just fine together. Fuck societal norms if people find it weird.

THREE

ROSY

The sound of my alarm vibrating on the bedside table jolts me out of my light sleep. Sighing, I groan as I blink blearily up at the ceiling.

Pushing myself up so that I’m sitting on the side of the bed, I try to stretch out my muscles to wake myself up and my body protests after spending the night tossing and turning. It wasn’t the worst night’s sleep, but my mind wouldn’t shut off. It played the conversation with Nate on repeat, then reviewed all the different ways I could’ve responded or acted. What I could’ve said, what I should’ve said, then played all the different scenarios over and over again in my head.

I’m also wondering if I should text him.

Is that the polite thing to do, or should I only message when I’m heading to the gym? Meeting new people is thrilling for a lot of people, but it just sends me into a panic. Then I spend hours and sometimes days analysing the interaction.

I grab a pair of cactus-print leggings and a loose-fitting T-shirt, along with a warm, oversized fleece jumper.

As for the message that came through last night, I’m avoiding that one, throwing that straight into the mental load we choose to ignore. It’s not the first message like this from an unknown number I’ve received, so I’ve gotten over the initial panic. Now it’s just a low-simmering worry in the background.

Padding out of my room in my socks, I prep a bowl of porridge and throw it into the microwave before turning the kettle on to boil as I head into the bathroom.

A quick glance in the mirror shows a pale face with purple smudges underneath my eyes, and I resist the temptation to apply makeup to cover it up. I’m still learning to love myself, even the bits I find fault with. I weave my hair into a French braid, quickly wash my face, and follow my skincare routine, then brush my teeth before heading back out to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, I’m immediately grateful to have a flatmate who’s a better-functioning adult than I am. It’s fully stocked for me to be able to make a quick lunch to go and grab some snacks, along with a flask of jasmine tea.

Just as I step out the door, I walk straight into a solid body, stumbling a step back.

“Shit. Sorry, Rosy. Are you okay?” A hand grabs my arm, holding me upright as I blink up at the handsome face before me.

“Sorry, Max. I didn’t see you.” Heat creeps up my neck as he stands so close.

It’s typical I would bump into my cute neighbour when I’m wearing a fleece jumper covered in bits of straw, with a bare face and eyes that are probably still a little swollen from the lack of sleep.