Chapter 11: there was Drew.

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Present-day...

My anticipation can't be any more evident. I move around my room like a crazed junkie on speed. Running from every passing moment, I strip, shower, moisturize, and dress...only to brace myself against the bathroom sink. Only then, does time seem to slow. Only then, do I realize just how nervous I am to bear witness to today's oncoming events. What questions would be asked? What confessions would be made? Whose past would be confronted?

I pray the answer to the last question will not be me.

The girl whose face mirrors mine has managed to tame her thick black curls into a slick low puff. Usually, she'd be overpowered by her shadow, but its why the glowing of her bronze skin draws attention. Something is different. There's a teasing, yet sincere smile in her eyes that her lips soon follow after; the easygoing—not forced—expression, truly not her own, but belonging to another; a taller, charmer, more masculine other with similar light-brown eyes and distinctive freckled cheeks.

Drew Montgomery...

We'd been friends for weeks before things got serious. Friends that didn't care to know of each other's backgrounds, yet "friends" enough to keep each other company when things would go left behind the scenes of our personal lives. He was always a flirt, always knew what time to catch me roaming the library, and pestered me nonstop about my impassive attitude. Yeah, I was his only friend...for a while. Then one day, he just laid it on me. "I like you, Alaina. On some real shit," he had said. And "one date ain't gon' hurt, come on," he urged. Little did he know, I'd been waiting so long to hear him say that.

Because Drew Montgomery was my escape.

He was like the first sight of dry land after months of drowning. Everyone knew I was suffering, everyone knew why I was suffering. But he... he knew just how to pull me out of my distress, no questions asked. Not in the healthiest of ways, but in the ways in which I needed most.

Because we excelled at making use of our 'now'.

Up until recently, our relationship thrived on the ignorance of our past. But I should have known better. Nothing lasts forever, not even the happiness you'd bought into saying that it would never die.

Taking a few pictures, I select the ones I'd send to Bryan. We share a certain distrust for ice skating in its entirety, and if there's anyone who can lighten my mood, it's him. Worrying my bottom lip, I make my way out of the bathroom and send the two images through iMessage.

How do I look? Am I skater ready?
Delivered|3:20pm

Bry|
See, this is why I miss Yazmine. Not for me, but for u. How did I become ur fashion specialist?

Just answer the question, Bryan. Gas me up so that I can have at least one thing right when I step foot on the ice.
Delivered|3:21pm

Bry|
Got it. U look good. A little too oily in the face but good.

He sends another string of texts.

Yasss Queen
...
Slay my life
...
Fuck it up.
...
Show dem who's boss.

To say I'm too choked up on laughter to breathe is an understatement. I almost drop my phone laughing at his crazy ass. Especially the last message, which I know is meant to be read in a Trinidadian accent.

Lmfaaooo. Ur the best, I swear.
Delivered| 3:24pm

Bry|
Ur welcome nd I better not find any screenshots of this in a group chat somewhere. I know how u women get down.

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