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“My mother called me this morning,” she says with her back to me. For some stupid reason, I enter the kitchen and take a seat at the island. I haven’t eaten breakfast in here since the house was built.
“Yeah, and why the fuck should I care?”
“Because it has to do with you.” I don’t miss her exhale, or the sadness that seems to coat her words. Minutes ago she seemed at ease, but now she seems, heartbroken, like someone kicked her fucking dog or something.
“Well speak… I don’t have all day, and I don’t particularly care for what you have to say. Liars are and always will be liars.” Even with my nasty remark, she turns and places a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of me. Her green eyes harden, and I watch her visibly swallow.
“Our parents are extending their trip. Apparently they want to go to the Bahamas next, or something…” Her tone is bitter, a clear indication that her relationship with her mother is just as strained as my own with my father. I slather the pancake in syrup and cut a piece off, shoving it into my mouth before I can say something that would make it sound like I give a fuck, because I don’t. I really don’t give a fuck.
Pushing all the words away, I take a bite, and then another, Ava’s eyes remaining on mine the entire time. I don’t like the way her eyes feel on me, like she’s able to see through the walls I built up around myself. Like she fucking knows me. She doesn’t, no one does.
“You sound bothered by that, any particular reason why?” I ask, grinning. I’m sure I have something to do with her obvious bitterness. Probably because she doesn’t want to be alone with me and I relish in the thought of how uncomfortable I make her.
Get used to it, princess…
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I was hoping to spend some time with her before classes start. I haven’t seen her in three years. It would be nice if she could slow down for five seconds and talk to me like I’m her daughter, or pay me even an ounce of attention.”
I stop mid-bite, the fork hovering in the air.
What did she just say?
Three years? Damn. I almost feel bad for being a dick, almost.
But then that little nagging feeling in the back of my mind reminds me that she brought this on herself. She did this to both of us.
And if there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s a liar, and that’s what she is, a liar.
A liar with a pretty fucking face, and a broken heart.
It’s clear her mother has let her down in more ways than one, and stupidly for a fraction of a second, I wonder what happened to her after that night. What happened between her parents that led her to me, that led her down this road?
Her lie destroyed my life, but what did it do to hers? I never really thought about it, to be honest, and I still don’t care enough to ask her. It’s her own fault. If she would’ve only been truthful… I mean, we were just kids, she didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to. Maybe in her eyes it was just a white lie, something to save her ass, but to me, it was the end. It’s where my life started to spiral out of control.
Everything changed because of her stupid lie.
I lost everything… my father’s love, my mother, my life fell into shambles because of her. I watch her make her own plate out of the corner of my eye. She takes a seat at the kitchen island, but not next to me. She leaves two chairs between us as if she knows better than to try and sit beside me. Thank, fuck.
An uncomfortable silence settles over us and I try to shove the last remaining forkfuls of food into my mouth. I have to get out of here, I have to get away from her. Away from her floral scent, her heart-shaped face, her sad fucking eyes. The blood in my veins is reaching its boiling point. All these unsaid words and questions hang between us.
I want to hurt her with my lips, break her with my touch… I want to tell her she’s not truly that unlovable, but that would go against everything inside of me. That would be like betraying myself, and I have to remember why we’re enemies, why her being here is a fucking problem. I can feel her green orbs on my skin… Why isn’t she eating, why is she staring at me like I can provide her with all the answers in the world.
“About last night…” She starts and I tighten my hold on the fork, the metal digging into my palm. Does she really want to see me lose my shit? Obviously so, because she continues the words pouring out of her mouth like acid.
