Never Summer Again

Chapter Twenty Three - The Road To Hell

Score: fOoL fOr YoU- ZAYN

Mark

They say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I don't know who said that, but they must've been fucking high.

There is nothing good about my intentions.

Picking Lydia up from prom is probably one of the most selfish deeds I've ever done.

I was out and on my way the moment I heard her distressed voice over the phone. I had no choice.

I've been dying to see her, hear from her, breathe in her scent. But she'd disappeared completely from the face of the Earth for the past three weeks. Gone completely off the radar.

I've been trying to provoke her, to tempt her to reach out to me, posting like crazy on social media. I've never been regular on Instagram, but, over the past three weeks, I've turned into a fucking influencer. All a show. All for her.

I have been uploading photos of every fucking meal or drink I've had, of every place I visited, of every fucking breath I drew, to show her where I was, to let her know that I've been spending time in London, so she could reach out to me if she wanted to.

I was kind of hoping she'd show up randomly at some venue I mentioned in my stories, without a warning, just because she couldn't stay away from me the same way I couldn't stay away from her.

Yet, no word came from her.

I glance at her, sitting in the passenger seat of my dad's car now, and I still can't believe she's here.

Oh, my God!

Those legs! I dare any warm-blooded male, having at least a remote interest in women, to take a look at her in that dress and not get an instantaneous boner! I fucking dare them!

"What? You want to take me to your dad's house in Hertfordshire? No fucking way..."She says.

"No, to my mum's flat. It is really close by, I was there when you called me."

"Oh." Her brows pull in and I swear I can hear the gears working in her drunk brain. "OK." She says simply, then adds: "But, can we stop and get pizza on the way? Or kebabs?"

I can't help the grin that stretches my lips. She must be fucking ravenous.

"You can order pizza for the address," I point to the pinned location on the screen of the navigation system.

"My phone died." She says, biting her lower lip.

"Here, you can use mine." I hand her my phone and steal another glance at her, while she orders food.

My mind is racing. What am I doing? Why did I suggest we go to my mum's? What's the point? She needs food, probably a hot bath or a shower, and rest. What am I going to do with her at the flat?

Sure, I can let her sleep and just be there for her, but the mere thought of Lydia, sleeping in my bed, while we are alone at my place drives me fucking insane.

I couldn't keep my hands off her with a hundred people around at Gloria's birthday party, and I definitely do not have it in me to resist her, when we are that close, and alone, on safe territory.

On my territory.

As I pull onto my mum's street, she hands me back my phone with the most content smile I have ever seen.

It's fucking adorable!

I help her get off the car and stand on her wobbly legs, and we head for my mum's apartment building. We pass by the concierge, who taps his hat lightly and winks at me mischievously, shooting a glance at Lydia.