Shards of Memory [English - Under Revision]

Chapter 29: A pause

Skylane

I watched Blaise as the cameras swarmed him.

We'd been heading for the exit when the interviewers cut him off, mics thrust forward, lights popping, questions stacking. I should probably get used to it. He isn't just anyone—he's Blaise Pollington. The boy I love. The boy everyone is watching.

At first his smile was easy, game-day bright. Then, as the fifth, sixth question landed, it started to slip. I could read the boredom in the flex of his jaw, the tiny exhale through his nose. Sorry, Blaise. I can't save you this time.

His gaze slid to me and I let out a small laugh I couldn't swallow fast enough. The nearest cameraman followed his line of sight—and now lenses were pointed at my face too. Someone asked about what happened on the court earlier. Heat crept up my neck. I looked at Blaise and begged him with my eyes.

He chuckled and broke formation, stepping to me like the cameras weren't there. He laced our fingers and spoke into the nearest mic, polite and final. "Sorry, we've got a date."

The reporters murmured. He glanced down at me, smirking. "At the Moon Hotel."

I shot him a look. His smirk widened as he tugged me toward the lot.

Missy. That's what he used to call me. Back then, it made my heart do cartwheels. Now that so many memories have returned, the word hurts and warms at the same time.

I stayed quiet until we were in his car and the doors thunked shut. Then I swatted his arm. He laughed.

"Why would you say we're going to a hotel?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he said, too easily.

"Because—because people will think..." I trailed off, staring out the window.

"Think what?" His voice was infuriatingly innocent. "That we're meeting the team on the rooftop for the party we discussed? Which we are?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "You know. The other thing. The... suggestive thing."

"What thing?" He leaned in like he honestly didn't know.

"You're impossible," I muttered, folding my arms. He tried to hide his laugh and turned the key.

The stereo booted and a track spilled in: On Top by James Reid and Sam Concepcion. I tipped my head. "This is good," I said, settling back.

Girl, you should start a trend

I know you are a freak

Don't worry, I won't tell your friends

Blaise coughed a laugh. "Want me to change it?"

"Don't."

He pressed his lips together like he had a secret. "You'll regret that."

"Why would I—"

The chorus hit.

I just want you on top of me...

Every cell in my body overheated at once.

If you just take off your clothes... I'll be the best you've ever known—

I slapped the stereo off so fast my palm stung. Blaise's laugh exploded in the dark car.

"Why'd you turn it off? You missed the—"

"Why is that song even in your playlist?" I yelped, swatting him again. He only laughed harder.

"You said, 'This is good,'" he parroted in a terrible imitation of my voice.

"Stop it! You knew exactly what those lyrics said and you let it play!"