Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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Mattis is angry.
I can see it the second he comes into view. His posture is rigid, chin sticking out, brows pulled down slightly, and he has not stopped running his hand through his hair.
My pulse quickens, and my stomach turns, nausea crawling up my throat, thinking he's mad at me. He'd been upset last night, sad and hurt, but he hadn't seemed angry with me. Now, though, he might have had a change of heart - a little reflection can affect even the most determined minds.
My breath stalls as our eyes meet for an achingly long moment, and then his shoulders drop, his eyes softening. He comes to a stop beside me.
"Hey," I say quietly, and he smiles my favorite smile, the relief leaving me dizzy.
"Kitty," he mumbles, hand twitching at his side, involuntarily reaching for me before he stuffs it in his pocket.
My relief is short-lived, though. Because he might not be mad at me, but something is definitely up, and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it has to do with Chloé. They fought - again.
I left their house less than twenty minutes ago. What could possibly have happened?
I open the trunk and watch as he hoists his bag inside. He's in a t-shirt, the muscles shifting across his back with the movement. I catch myself biting my lip.
I turn my eyes to the house for a last goodbye. Since we'll be flying straight to Austria for Christmas, I won't be back here until well into the new year. Strangely, I've deliberately fled this place, putting an entire country between me and it, and yet now there's a pang of sadness in my chest, leaving again.
Part of me had hoped my parents would have missed me. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that, but nothing has changed. They were every bit as distant and cold as when I was a kid, and even though I know better, it bruised my heart.
They've broken it too many times for it to heal properly.
I said goodbye to my father inside. He was in his study, and I'd stood on the other side of the door debating whether or not to knock for a few minutes. He doesn't like it when we, especially Sarah and I, come into his study, but leaving without acknowledging him would be seen as disrespectful.
In the end, I'd sucked it up and interrupted him. He'd lifted his head from the papers on the desk, pressing his lips in a thin, disapproving line. I'd fumbled through my goodbye, palms clammy until he dismissed me.
Some would say he was just stressed, but I'm too old to make excuses for him. Seeing me off is not a priority of his.
My mother exits the house, shaking me out of my stupor. I turn towards the car and get in before she can see the resentment in my eyes.
Mattis follows along, and I notice his gaze linger on me as he slides in on the backseat beside me. I shoot him a smile that feels more like a grimace, and he reciprocates. I used to think we had nothing in common, but we're more alike than I imagined.
