Never Summer Again

Chapter Twenty Seven - The Breakup

Soundtrack: Don't - Ed Sheeran

Lydia

I turn my phone on, as Mark opens the passenger door of the Discovery for me. I climb in, holding my breath, waiting cautiously for hell to let loose.

The bloody thing instantly produces a symphony of rings and beeps, as notification upon notification of missed calls and messages flash up on the screen. That's what I was afraid of. Missed calls from Patrick, Alex, Gloria, and even Nate roll on my screen, until there's no blank space on it.

I take a deep breath and start responding to messages. "Yes, I am fine", and, "Sorry, I fell asleep", the default lies, roll without so much as a tremble of my hand from under my fingers.

When did I get so good at lying?

Maybe I've always been. My life's been a show I put on two years ago...

I entertain the idea of going straight back to Alex's, or calling Gloria and asking her to come pick me up and listen to my heartfelt confession about the mess I've created in my life.

I even think about going straight to the Rosewood, to look for Patrick there. We need to talk.

I glance at Mark in the driver's seat. His gaze is locked in front of him, his brows are pulled in and he looks tense. I wonder what thoughts are passing behind his frown. Does he hate me for leaving him and practically asking him to drop me off in the arms of my still-boyfriend? Does he think that I am a slut, for cheating on Patrick?

Memories from last night flood my brain. I practically begged him to fuck me.

God!

"Take me to my dad's".

I say, finally. It's the least and most dreadful option. I told Patrick and my friends that I'd gone to my house to sleep it off after I got sick. I don't think Alex'll buy it, if I go back to hers, looking as if I've been dragged through a hedge backward, wearing Mark's clothes, at that. He gave me a fresh T-shirt of his to wear and a pair of boxers and track pants. They are way too big for me and I look as if I am wearing a dress over pajama bottoms, but, beggars can't be choosers, right?

Mark doesn't say anything but starts the car.

An awkward silence falls between us, as he makes his way through traffic. Why is it that there's always traffic these days?

As we approach Brompton Road, I get more and more nervous. I haven't stayed home for longer than ten minutes in three weeks. I haven't seen or spoken to Colin since the day of my Chemistry A-Level. What is going to happen, when I walk into the flat? Has he changed the locks? Is he going to say something hurtful? Is he going to say he's missed me?

Highly unlikely.

As Mark pulls in in front of the apartment building, I look down the familiar street, that I have only been visiting recently to pick up books, clothes, or jewelry. I don't feel any remorse or nostalgia for this place. Even now, I just want to change into my own clothes, splatter some makeup on, and be off to Alex's as soon as possible...

What. The. Fuck.

My blood turns into ice, as I see a familiar Jaguar parked in a parking spot down the street.

Patrick!

What the fuck is he doing here?

I need to get inside! I realize that my mouth has turned bone-dry, as I start speaking.

"Thank you, Mark. For everything. I think I'll be OK from here."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to come in?"