*Being Published in 2022*
❝You can't deny that you're attracted to me, Nyx. Instead of fighting it, let's see what happens,❞ he grumbled, hands roaming my body. His thumb brushed my bottom lip. ❝Open up for me, baby.❞
...
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It felt weird, thinking that you know everything, only to find out that you know nothing. The moment the words left Beckham's mouth, I could feel a string being tugged inside me, a string stitched into every memory I had of Georgia. It never occurred to me that I should piece it together. Why should I have to? Georgia was a friend.
But pulling it all together was inevitable, and as I sat there, allowing myself to really think about Georgia Lowe, I could see the fissures in the portrait that I put together. Where did she come from? And why did she arrive at the perfect time? If she was a social worker, why weren't my baby sisters taken away yet? Why wasn't my dad arrested? Was she even helping us?
Annie and I told each other everything. Why couldn't she trust me with this? It was an hour later and I sat in my designated room, legs crossed and phone clenched in my hand. My thumb hovered over Annie's contact. She'd no doubt be awake, probably baking. Whilst I was overthinking everything, my finger slipped and I watched the phone ring. Immediately, I ended it after one ring, throwing my phone a foot away from me.
A second later, my phone was ringing and I suppressed a groan. "Hey, Annie," I greeted, putting the phone on speaker and letting it lay in front of me.
"Hi," she returned with a yawn and I could hear her moving around the kitchen. "Everything okay? Or did you butt-dial me again?" I couldn't find it in myself to laugh along with her, too many questions swirling around.
I forced a laugh. "Yeah, um, I just got into bed now. Figured I'd give you and the girls a call."
She was silent for a moment. "Um, it's just me tonight, actually." I frowned, automatically presuming the worst. "The girls are at Georgia's for the weekend. She picked them up earlier." Okay, that did not make me feel better, especially after discovering what Georgia was. There was no way Annie couldn't have known. So the question was: why didn't she tell me?
"Annie," I murmured, feeling my eyes sting with unshed tears. She hummed. "We tell each other everything, right?"
Another tense beat. "Of course. Is everything-"
"I gotta go, Benson caught one of the guys trying to sneak out," I fibbed, fidgeting with my blanket. "I'll call you soon. Bye." Without another word, I hung up, dropping my phone next to me. Georgia was a fucking social worker, she'd known about our problems for five years. And Annie trusted her. My insecurities were laughing at me because it seemed like Annie didn't trust me. It felt weird, thinking that you know everything, only to find out that you know nothing.
