Misplaced Trust

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I'm chilling in bed and I hear a knock on the door. It swings open and reveals Ava, standing like a model posing for Vogue. Her green eyes flickering in my way and she walks over and sits at the edge of my bed, her eyes inquiring mine.

"I shouldn't have forced you." She timidly whispers.

After the hotel stay with my family and her, I admit, I became moody and bitter. But I can't be blamed really. She forced her opinion, forcing me to feel guilt and misery. Only my heart gets to decide if I love Cameron or not, not her. Her accusation, her questioning put me in a mood, so I put off talking to her, messaging her or if she did message me, I would reply with as few syllables as possible – hoping she'd get the hint.

"Look Ava. I never forced you with Logan. Even when you acted upon your revenge plan which honestly, I didn't agree with. And there you were, during what was supposed to be relaxing and serene. We were supposed to lie at the beach for hours on end, but no." I spit and I find myself raging, getting out of control is not my thing, but right now, I can't help this spiral of tornado whirling inside me, ready for crash and burn and catastrophe.

"I'm sorry, I just felt bad for Cam. But I get it if you don't want to say the L-word yet. It's your decision, only yours and neither I or Cameron will manipulate you into saying it if you aren't ready." And stress lifts away, the tornado softens and gentling – the catastrophe fading away and prevented.

"Let's get milkshakes." I smile and dive out of bed.

-

The milkshakes are pretty. Like big white fluffy clouds, the whipped cream sits on top of my strawberry milkshake, with a big red cherry on top. The straw pierced in it is striped white and pastel yellow – totally instagram worthy. I take out my phone and snap a few pictures of the milkshakes Ava and I ordered, and hurry to post them on my feed.

"Does it go with my theme?" I shove the screen in front of Ava, hoping that she can get a clear view to analyse.

"Literally, back up-," She giggles and lightly pushes my phone which was so close to her that it almost stroked her eyelashes. "Yes!" She finally lets out a squeal and everyone in the café turns around in shock; eyes pierce us but we don't care. We bob our heads in sync and sing with happiness ... my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and damn right, it's better than yours, I can teach you, but I have to charge.

We giggle and I let go of the worry, Cameron. The apprehension that sits deep inside of me, concealed with a smile on my face. But right now, sisters before misters. I dip my finger in my whipped cream and as soon as Ava focuses her eyes on her own instagram feed, I bop the cream on her nose. A white peak mounting her cute nose, she looks like the most adorable snowman I've ever seen – but instead of a bright orange carrot for a nose, she has whipped cream dancing on hers.

"You are sooo going to pay." She slurs, dips her fingers deep into her milkshake and paints the frothy cream on my face. I burst out in giggles before Ava does, seconds later, we are both in fits of laughter; tears streaming down our eyes, wiping away the white Christmas that is our face.

"Let's play a game." I smile and wipe away the leftover white from my face.

"We shall." She announces while lifting her chin and rolling her eyes as if she is acting out a Shakespearian play.

"Right, I'm going to predict your future." I chuckle; well aware of what game I am going to put her through.

Ava smiles in response, well aware of what game – or torture as seen in her eyes – I am thinking of. We call for the waiter and ask for a piece of paper and pencil. Minutes later she returns with paper and pencil in hand.