Wicked Summer Games. BxB (Complete)

15. Will it ever be the same.

Since I was just a kid, my mother made me believe that I was the strongest kid she had ever seen. Strong that she once said she'd be ready to let me protect her—I was only seven then. And I believed her.

I believed it.

But all that was in vain, all that is vanishing from my memory.

I am not as strong as my mother said I was. I can't protect her if I cannot protect myself. I can't even wrestle a fly.

I groan and turn to the other side of the room, only to stare at the same wall. I grab my shirt and squeeze it so hard. I want to cry—for real, this time. I know I have been feeling like crying for a while now, but right now, I am only a blink away from shading tears.

I am fucking hungry!

And Axel is still in the TV room. I can hear the TV playing.

I made a promise that I won't go down there until he is gone, but it's almost noon now, and he is still here. Jamie has not shown up yet. Where the fuck is he?

An hour ago, Aunt Nima called to tell me that she'd get home in the evening, and she asked if I'd be okay. She was ready to ditch her fun and come here to stay with me. Part of me wanted her to come to and chase Axel, but that would be immature of me. Besides, I am strong, so I told her that I'd be okay and that she didn't have to worry.

But that was an hour ago. I felt like I'd survive. Yet I am not surviving, I am dying slowly of hunger. I am starving. I know there's food in the kitchen, but the problem is going back there and facing the jerk.

I bite into my pillow like a mad person. I haven't had anything since morning, my stomach keeps rumbling, reminding me that I need to eat. I'm not the most pleasant person when I am hungry.

After another thirty minutes of battling my hunger and trying too hard to hold on to my pride, I lose the battle and step out of the room. I am dressed in a pure white t-shirt, and blue jeans—the same clothes I wore after I showered. I am ashamed to admit that I thought about Axel in the shower—don't get excited—they were all bad thoughts.

Steadily, I make it to the TV room, how delighted I am to see no one in there. Maybe he has left. Or he's in Jamie's room. Thank God, he has made this easier for me. With quicker strides, I find myself in the kitchen, heating the spaghetti leftovers we had last night.

I dish out my food while I sing to Bazzi's Will It Ever Be The Same. Bobbing my head to the melody in my head.

"Now I need to know-ooooh will it ever be the sameee - gah!" I jump as soon as I spot Axel leaning against the kitchen door, arms folded and watching me.

Fucking creepy.

I shut my mouth while I listen to his heart chuckle. It's embarrassing how I missed that stupid giggle. But I don't pay him attention, I go on to grab a plate and walk past him with weakened knees.

"Didn't know Smarty-pants could sing," he comments behind me.

I'm uncertain whether to just keep walking or to answer that. I am conflicted, I am hungry, and I don't want him in my face.

After everything, I decide not to say anything. I head for the stairs when he speaks again.

"Will you keep running, Smarty-pants?"

The fucking audacity.

I gasp and turn to look at him. "Run from what?"

"Me." He shrugs.

I want to laugh in his face and tell him I'm not running, but it's true. I am fleeing from him. I don't want to be in the same room with Axel. It makes my blood boil, my blood pressure spike, and all the wrong things.

"Who says I'm running?" I ask, going back to the TV room and settling on the couch. I can feel myself sweating, but I want to prove a point—that he is wrong, when in fact he is just right.

I am too competitive for my own good. It will cost me so much.

Trying to be unbothered, I go about my business, eating my pasta without caring about Axel who is sitting on the other couch—eyes on the screen, playing FIFA.

The room is dense. Only filled with noises from the TV, I feel like I can't breathe, but it's me—your Luke Collins who wants to prove a point, so I stay.

I am happy that Axel does not talk to me. When I'm done eating, I lay on the couch and scroll through my phone just to keep my eyes away from Axel.

Maybe I should just accept defeat and run to my room.

"Hey, Smart-"

"Don't fucking call me that," I cut him off. I am impressed with how calm my voice comes out.

"How long are you going to stay mad at me?" he asks, sounding annoyed, too.

I scoff. "You have no idea."

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