It Hurts | ✓

Chapter 8

We sat on Riley's bed, flicking through channels on the TV.

"I have an idea!" I blurted.

"What is it?" She chuckled.

"We should have a weekly meet-up, like at the park or something, every week! Why don't we do that already! That should happen." I don't know exactly why I thought of that, but it randomly came to me. I told Riley this also.

"Yeah, sounds like a great idea," she grinned.

I could ask the same of George; Every Saturday I'd meet up with him, Sunday with Riley. Good call, Amber.

I spent the rest of the afternoon there at Riley's just being silly with her and playing hide and seek around her house (I know it's childish but her house was so massive she barely knew the place inside and out).

I ended up staying for a sleepover.

When Saturday morning rolled around, I sat up groggily. Those pillows were so comfy, I could have just laid back down and not do anything at all that whole day. I could've just slept for hours on end.

But I remembered this infamous trip to the park, and I finally forced myself to detach myself from the warmth and overall comfiness from the bedspread.

I was sad to have to say goodbye to Riley, but I was looking forward to the following events of the day.

•~•~•~•

I threw on some denim shorts and a pale hoodie. Simple, but cute.
I moved along the pavement with speed, eager to meet up with my friend.

Just to clarify, this is not a date.
I mean, that's why I asked Riley to the park on Sunday. I have a grand total of two friends, and there are two days in the weekend. So I'll have a weekly park meet up with them on the two days respectively, I had decided.

I passed through the gates and down the hill towards the tiny café near the centre of the park. There were tennis courts on my right, a playground to my left, where a couple of children sat on swings, being pushed by their bored-looking parents.

I reached the café, which had, typically, closed down for good earlier in the week. George was round the other side of the building, I discovered, as I turned the corner and smacked right into him.

Colour bloomed before my eyes so suddenly, I didn't have time to register it before it faded. But it was breathtakingly beautiful, the park in colour, the sun beating down and making everything so bright and warm looking, although my skin told me it was getting cold; winter soon. Why was I wearing shorts? I shivered.

"Hey," George smiled. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket which made me laugh.

"Very macho," I pointed out with a smirk.

"Uh huh," he nodded, grinning.

We strolled down the winding pathway lined with great looming trees, almost dead already. Definitely winter soon.

We carried on down the path until we came to a very large tree with plenty of branches. I let go of his hand which I had been holding (friendly, of course, and just so I could see the colour.)

Colour dissipated from my vision, and made the tree suddenly less inviting, without its pretty Autumn colours.
I jumped up onto the lowest branch and began to climb.

The tree was easy to climb, and soon I was almost at the top. I seized a thin branch, leaned over the edge of my comfortable home-made seat, and yelled down, "Come on! You can climb a tree, can't you?"

"Coming!" He grunted in reply, followed by multiple twig-snapping sounds. I stifled a giggle.

George's head poked through a clump of leaves.

"'Sup," he smirked.

"Took you long enough."

"Whatever."

He hoisted himself up onto the branch above, my branch, and sat opposite me, our trainers touching hence the lack of leg room. It was still enough for the colour to return.

It still kinda bugged me, how fate had put me in the friendzone before he was even my friend. I certainly didn't love him, and he clearly didn't love me either, so I was pretty pissed to say the least.

We chatted for a while, occasionally looking down and seeing everyone walking past, no more than moving dots with colourful t-shirts; that's how high up we were.

"You actually aren't that bad," I confessed.

"You know, you aren't so bad yourself."

I gazed down below me again. I quite literally did a double take when I saw him. He did the same, spotting me also.

"Shitshitshit," I said.

"What?" George frowned.

"Ollie."

The tree shook, and momentarily George and I were paralysed, staring at each other trying to calculate a plan. I had nothing.

My brother's head erupted from the leaves below, a stupid grin plastered to his face.

"Hey sis." He turned to George. A look of shock, followed by confusion, and finally realisation played on his face.

"Ah, Georgia, George, I get it now. Crafty, sis," he smirked.

"But you're dating George Palmer? Thought you didn't like the guy. Told me he tripped you for no reason?"

"Ollie," I hissed.

"Oh, Kacey would love to know! And wait till mum and dad find out too! Oh that'll be great!" His head started to retreat beneath the leaves again, but I grabbed him by the hair.

"Oi!" He shouted. I yanked him up again.

"You won't tell anyone," I warned.
"And we're not even dating." I informed him.

"Well that's good, coz he's destined to break your heart anyway," he laughed.

"You're a real douche, you know that?" I practically spat at my brother, shoving him with all my strength. I was surprised when he managed to keep his balance.

"I know," he replied, before the smirk returned.

I glanced at George, whose face wasn't quite readable. He looked a bit, sheepish? Apologetic? Nah, that's not George. He wouldn't believe my brother. No one does, and it's a good thing too, because he never tells the truth.

I pushed Ollie's head as though I was dunking him, and followed him as he climbed down. George soon came after us.

I let Ollie walk ahead until he was behind the cafe and out of view, and then I hugged George goodbye, wishing to witness the colour one last time. He seemed rather shocked by my movement, but I just waved and turned away.

"Uh, Amber?" George said, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going this way too." I blushed deeply. Aha. Awkward.

Taking a deep breath, hoping that Ollie would just shut up when we got home, I followed my brother back up the hill towards the exit, and towards home.