and we played

Chapter 21

MYA

"Don't leave me", I almost beg. Just a few more steps til the airport. Til she's gone. "Please."
I have never held someone so tight. Or cried as much.

"It's okay", Becca whispers. "I know. I also didn't want to lose you."

"Why?", I curse. "Why do you have to go?"

"Dad got a new job in Montreal. We're all moving there", she says between tears.

"But that's so far away", I let out.

"There are airplanes. And cars. You're good with cars. It's not so far away", she tries to encourage me.

I want to sink.

"Hey", she says, coming to hug me tighter. "We'll make it work. Don't worry. You won't even notice I'm gone. We'll text and call the whole time."

"Promise?", I ask her.

She nods. "Promise." It's then she pulls out something from her bag. A small box. "For you", she whispers, handing it to me. My hand is shaking as I reach for the box. As I open it, I see a necklace with a small moon.

"Remember when you said I'm the sun and you're the moon", she whispers. She reaches her hand for the necklace and I offer it to her, so that she can put it on me. As it is around my neck, she comes back and shows me she's wearing one with a small sun. "This way, we'll always be close to each other. No matter what."

"I'll miss you, Becca", I add.

She nods, sinking her face on my shoulder. "So will I."

~

I'm still crying as I reach Starbucks.

My brain needs coffee. I plan on buying some and drive a bit around town to relax. Maybe hit an art gallery. I don't know.

"A shaken espresso with oat milk cinnamon and one pump of white mocha with a blueberry muffin, please", I order. 

I'm already holding my card in my hands as someone places their hand on my waist pushing me an inch away, to reach the cashier.

"I got this", a deep masculine voice says. I look up and see Ashton Delance, ready to pay my Starbucks order. "Add an Americano to that", he continues, really taking over my order.

"Excuse you", I mutter at him, since I'm depressed and he's the last person I need to see right now.

Ashton turns around, meeting my face for the first time today. "Fuck", he lets out. "You're crying."

"No shit, Sherlock", I let out annoyed, starting to cry louder.

"Make that two muffins", he tells the barista with a wink before he pays and still with his hand on my waist, he leads me to a free table for two.

"I didn't ask for you to sit next to me", I tell him. "I'm already having a bad day, I don't need for you to make it worse."

"So I only make your days worse?", he asks, his voice as cold as ever, but something else hidden there.

"I mean, you're not even trying to make them better", I mumble, for my mouth works without my brain. "You just show up, bully my boyfriend, occasionally say I'm not pretty and then leave."

"I have never said you aren't pretty", he counters, voice still like ice.

I scoff. "That gala a few days ago."

"You weren't smiling. I said you look dead, not ugly. There's a difference."

"Oh, so you called me dead. Even better", I mutter.