Miller Spencer knows that it's normal to love your best friend.
Ace has been his best friend since forever. So, of course, it's completely natural to want to kiss him. It is typical to get jealous when you see him with someone else. It is absolutel...
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"You're late."
I didn't have to turn around to make sure it who it was. I recognized his uncoordinated footsteps too well to ever mistake them.
I kept my gaze fixed on the ocean in front of me, or as much of it as I could see. I was still unused to the strange blurry spot at the centre of my vision, unlike anything I had been prepared for. In a way, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would. Just a smudge where the ocean would be, while the sides of my sight was much better.
I heard him sigh and a second later he appeared beside me, sitting cross-legged on the rocks.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I had to stop by the petrol pump."
I felt him nudging gently against my arm and saw the glint of metal before he handed me a can.
"But hey, I got some drink as compensation," he said.
I sighed and opened the can without looking at it, something I had got much better at over time. "Thanks."
I lifted the can to my lips and took a long sip of the cold, refreshing soft drink. It seemed to add to the icy feeling in my chest somehow.
"You're pouting," he said.
"Huh?" I made a conscious effort to rearrange my features into normalcy. "I'm not."
He giggled. "Yeah, you are. You don't even know that."
I sighed and took another drink, struggling to maintain composure. "So, everything packed and ready?"
The temperature around us seemed to stop suddenly. The stillness magnifying as he remained quiet. The only sounds that of the vast ocean waves still lapping against the rocks, uncaring for the two broken hearts by the shore.
"Yeah," he answered softly. "Dad's gonna drop me off tomorrow afternoon."
A rock slid down my throat at his words.
"You're not taking your car?" I asked, all my concentration wasted in trying to keep my voice even.
"Maybe later. Next time when I'm home," he answered.
"When...will that be?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Somewhere around autumn? September end I assume. After my terms."
"Two months," I spoke, my throat clogging with overwhelming emotions.
"Two months," he repeated softly.
"What about you?" he asked. "How's it going with Dr. Brown?"
"Oh," I sighed, the image of the doctor's office burning into my brain as I sighed. "She says I'm doing better."
"And are you?" he asked, pulling his knees close to his chest.
"What the hell do I know anyway," I shrugged, placing the half-filled can on the rocks beside me. If it wasn't for Miles insisting that I seek a therapist, I would never have considered the idea at all. And although there were times when it was clear that I was getting better at handling my feelings, the progress was so slow that it might be negligible. "Aryan increased my wage. After I told him, in passing, that I was living alone for a while."
