CONTRADICTED STARS || L. PARTRIDGE [1 | EDITING]

16. Chamomile Tea

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🕯️

THE DAY DAWNED CRISP and clear as the open curtains let the bright streaks of golden light reflect through the crystal window. The harmonious chorus of singing birds reached Cabrera's ears as she finally got herself to open her bleary eyes.

With a groggy gaze, she directed her attention towards a flickering beam of light across the room, causing her eyebrows to knit in curiosity. An inexplicable scent of chamomile tea wafted through the air, perplexing her senses.

But then, her eyes fell upon a boy, his arms casually draped over the desk, his head nestled in peaceful slumber upon them. Tranquility painted his closed eyelids, and his presence emanated a comforting warmth that stirred something deep within her.

Louis.

In that moment, as she acknowledged his existence and felt the proximity of his body, memories of the previous night surged back like a flood of September reminiscences.

Yet, an unsettling realisation dawned upon her—this was indeed September, and the echoes of the past intertwined with the present, blurring the boundaries of time.

༉‧₊˚.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

"SO YOU LIVE HERE?" Louis inquired, his eyes scanning the modest corners of Cabrera's humble flat as she delicately placed her beige coat on the vintage coat stand.

"It's pretty decent if you ask me. If you have any problems, feel free to see yourself out," she retorted.

He chuckled and shook his head. "It's a little small."

"You said you wanted to come here to copy my homework and work on our essays, not criticise my flat as if you were an architect." Cabrera disappeared into the bathroom, vanishing behind the door to undress and slip into fresh attire, all the while attentive to the ongoing conversation.

"I know. I'm just trying to find a way to compliment you, at least. If we're going to get along, I need to make it a habit to genuinely praise you."

She released a sceptical breath. "Last time I checked, I agreed to try and make you a friend, not someone more."

"But friends compliment each other in the most possible way," he insisted.

She shook her head, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "Oh, Partridge. Your friends lie to you constantly, don't they?"

"What do you mean? They're my friends."

"They're liars."

Emerging from the bathroom, she casually tossed her uniform into the waiting laundry basket.