Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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"𝗪ould you quit it? You're splashing my Jordans!"
Mason let out a smooth laugh, ignoring him physically as he threw another rock in the water. This one managed to skip twice before sinking, but it seemed like everyone before that was on a mission to sink immediately, and unlucky for him, the shore wasn't long enough to avoid the backsplash.
Of course, he could easily back up the grassy area behind them, but there was something nice about standing on the sand, pretending like their life wasn't their life. And not only that, but to see with ease the tip of Mason's tongue peeking from behind his lips in concentration—the small bursts of thrill as he found new rocks to make his skipping victims.
Even though practice makes perfect didn't apply to his best friend, he couldn't help but enjoy his overall presence. After two months of nothing but walls, indecision, and counter-unpleasant insults, there was something fluid about the mundaneness of their entire afternoon.
It was almost poetic; he was just a boy, learning to skip instead of sink.
A small smile touched his lips for a split second before the inevitable murky water splattered across the white toes of his new Jordan Ones. Letting out a hiss of breath and recoiling as if he had been burned, he shot his brother a dirty look.
Once more, the moment his laugh flooded the space between them, the tension in his shoulders fluttered away and relaxation was breathed into his being.
"My bad," Mason chuckled, tossing another rock.
"If you were truly remorseful, you'd stop it."
"Sorry, princess," he looked over his shoulder, "But I have one rock left."
"AH!—"
Isaac ducked behind his hands as Mason attempted to toss it at him instead of the water. A glare of distaste formed on his facial features as he realized that it was nothing more than a fake-out.
"You asshole," he muttered.
"You love me," Mason sighed, plopping to the ground.
As he straightened, he took knowledge and account for the breath of air that just passed his lips; it wasn't done in a sad nor overwhelming way, but it seemed to work as a relief system. A moment to reminisce on the happiness he'd just felt for these brief minutes.
His heart warmed.
Standing just a few feet behind him, he could see everything he was no longer trying to hide. The curve in his upper lip, poking dimples in his tan skin. With strands of black magic dancing across plateaus of calmness and blue seas of benevolence, he almost saw that fourteen-year-old boy from long ago.
His hands gently massaged the particles underneath them as he leaned back and gazed upon the small body of water.
But for some reason in that moment, as he gazed, he felt sad.
