Chiara [PUBLISHED] ✔️

Twenty-five

Maeve is back.

The ride back to the school in the limo was filled with girls' chatter and squealing at the dresses they bought. Chiara bought four; she claimed she needed them.

I drank an unhealthy amount of champagne, all in order to calm my swirling insides. Chiara glanced at me and my empty glass, but I couldn't talk in front of Reina and Maggie.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked quietly, worry etched to her face. She was biting her lower lip and searching my face for an answer.

"Yes." I nodded, pouring more champagne.

"You should slow down." Chiara murmured. "We're returning to the school, you don't want teachers seeing you drunk."

But I didn't give a shit about teachers or champagne or anything else in the moment.

Maeve is back.

"I don't really care." I mumbled.

I haven't talked to Maeve since we broke up. And the taste of that feeling still lingered on my tongue. I knew she would be back, but I didn't think it would hurt like this. Where the hell was she? How dare she strip me of proper closure?

"Jackie," Chiara grabbed my hand in front of Reina and Maggie, "please, tell me what happened."

"Maeve is back." I let out a sigh and Chiara immediately leaned onto the seat.

There were so many things I wanted to tell her. As the car stopped in front of the school, low, setting sun blasting through the windows, blocking the sight of the terrace, I forgot about everything.

"Are you going to talk to her?" Chiara grabbed my hand as I exited the limo. Reina and Maggie immediately scattered, carrying the bought dresses with them, probably to show off.

"I don't know." I grabbed the dress Chiara bought and flipped it over my shoulder, suddenly hoping Maeve wouldn't see me like that.

She hated this entire world. Each and every one of them. And seeing me with Chiara and her friends might make her hate me, too. And she didn't have the right to hate me. Not after she squeezed every ounce of emotion out of me and left me empty and dry. I was the one who was supposed to hate her.

"You're scaring me, Jackie." Chiara hopped after me as I stomped across the terracotta tiled pathway. The murmurings of people on tennis courts and football courts became muffled, like there was an impenetrable veil surrounding me.

I didn't know what I wanted to do, but I knew I was angry. So fucking angry.

I've pushed that anger down ever since I've broken up with her. All I wanted then was to forget about her, forget about the pain she had caused. But now, I wanted to scream and shout and tell her exactly what I thought.

What good would that do me?

Like an unstoppable ball of fury, I basically ran up the stairs of the terrace, forgetting about the dress I still held over my shoulder and concerned Chiara trying to catch up with me.

And there she was, sitting around the table with both Bryan and Steph.

Her raven-black hair was tied in a messy bun, strands falling over her gentle, blue eyes that were hidden behind her glasses. A tensed expression lingered in the twitch of her thin lips. She pulled the sleeves of her black sweater over her hands and squeezed as her eyes met mine.

Bryan leaned onto his hand and Steph's mouth hung open.

And then I realised Chiara's hand was in mine, our fingers intertwined. And I guess everyone else noticed, too, because sudden gasps reached my ears. Chiara held my hand tightly.