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ONE
IVY
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?”
My stomach tenses at the gravelly voice behind me, but I don’t turn around. Instead, I lift the bottle of tequila to my lips, wincing at the burn as it slides down my throat. All I want to do is forget.
He sits down beside me, and the heat of his body does nothing to thaw the ice that has wrapped around my cold, dead heart. At the ripe old age of twenty, I’m a bitter and angry shell of the vibrant, carefree girl I was last summer.
Conrad Foster reaches over and swipes the bottle of tequila from my hand, taking a generous swig before passing it back to me. He brings his knees up, resting his strong, corded arms on them as he stares out over Blue Haven Beach.
The moon is high in the sky, and a small part of me wonders what the fuck he’s doing out past one in the morning on a Tuesday night. A larger part of me, though, doesn’t give a shit. Since classes finished for the year and I lost my one and only distraction, I haven’t been able to sleep. I’ve been coming up to the lookout at Glassons Point to get away from the four walls of my childhood bedroom and the reminders of the boy I fell in love with.
Lachy briefly returned home last month–with his new supermodel girlfriend on his arm. Seeing him was like a white hot sword plunged into my stomach, and the insomnia has gotten even worse. We’ve been friends since we were five years old, and when we started dating at sixteen, I’d naively thought we would be together forever. Four and a half years later, I’m sitting here alone, broken-hearted and confused over how he could throw away everything we had together for someone he’d only just met.
A small part of me hopes that this is just his way of dealing with the grief of losing his mother, but the masochist in me has been keeping up to date with his socials. Even I can’t deny how happy he looks in his new life in Italy. I know I need to move on, but it’s easier said than done. At least, it is for me. Lachy seems to have had no problems with it. I have no idea how I’m supposed to trust anyone with my heart again. Right now, it’s a shredded, tattered mess.
For weeks I’ve been relying on alcohol and some old pain meds I found in my brother’s bedroom to be able to get any sleep at all. I take another pull from the bottle.
“You want to talk about it?”
My laugh is humourless. “Not with you.”
“Ouch, little Willis. Way to hurt my feelings.”
My face twists up into a scowl. “Fuck off, Conrad. Go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”
“Jesus, Ivy, I’m only asking a question. No need to fucking attack me.” His eyes drop to the bottle of tequila. “You’re not the only one with problems.”
I scoff. “What problems could the insanely rich captain of the footy team possibly have? Did mummy take your credit card again? Or did someone forget to bow down to his Royal Highness?”
“You don’t even know me,” he grits out, fists clenching.
“You’re right, Conrad. I don’t know you, and I don’twantto know you.” I tick off the reasons on my fingers. “You got my friend’s brother locked up, you beat up that same friend for dating your sister. Not to mention I’ve seen the way you treat her, andshe’sfamily.” I narrow my eyes at him with a scowl. “And remind me, when was the last time you spent time with anyone longer than the time it takes them to suck your dick?”
He snatches the bottle out of my hand and tosses it over the railing. Almost a full bottle of Jose Cuervo wasted. “I think you’ve had enough,” he says quietly.
“You asshole!” I stumble to my feet. “Why the fuck are you even here?” I shout in frustration. “News flash: I don’t like you and you’re not wanted.”
Conrad steps up into my space, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at his stupid arrogant face. “You don’t have a claim on the lookout, Ivy. But had I known you were down here I definitely would’ve tried to avoid it.”
I try to take a step backwards as I glare at him, inwardly cursing at the way his six-foot-two frame towers over me. I’m momentarily distracted by his crystal blue eyes and his ridiculously good looking face. Distracted enough that I trip over my own foot and his hands shoot out to wrap around my biceps, gripping me tight to keep me from falling. I glance over my shoulder, the taste of tequila bitter on my tongue as I stare out over the waves crashing angrily against the rocks below us. Terror hits me and I recoil. I spin on Conrad, whose hands are strong and steady and my fear morphs into rage at his smug look, but I don’t make a move to free myself. As heart-broken and angry as I am, I don’t have a death wish.
“I know seeing Lachy must have fucked you up, but I thought you were better than this.” He smirks. “There’s plenty of other ways to get over a guy than getting wasted and sitting at the top of a cliff in the middle of the night.”
Flames of fury ignite my body and I wrench my arms from his grasp. I lean in a little closer, narrowing my eyes with a scowl. “What? Like hooking up with you?”
My tone is scathing, and desire flickers in his eyes before he laughs and shakes his head. “You and I both know that would only end in disaster.”
“Maybe you should shut up or take your unwanted advice and go fuck yourself,” I snap, placing my hands on his muscular chest and shoving him away from me. “After what you did to Tom and Harley, I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last person on Earth. You’re a selfish, arrogant asshole that no one wants to be around.”
“As opposed to a depressed, self-absorbed princess who thinks she’s the only one going through anything?” Conrad sneers. “Wake up, Ivy. People let other people down all the time, if everyone tried to write themselves off afterwards, we’d be fucking extinct.”
“I’m not trying to write myself off!”
“Could have fooled me.”
I want to punch him in his smarmy face. Instead, I throw my hands up in frustration. “I’d had two fucking mouthfuls before you got here.” Guilt causes my stomach to churn because he knows as well as I do, if he hadn’t shown up tonight, I would have finished the entire bottle.
