"And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know?"
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Maya Beaulieu, born and raised in Montreal, has heard the stories about Lance Stroll, the boy who grew up down the street of where she lived. All the reason to stay...
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Info: This chapter contains a part you can skip if you wish so.
Trigger warning: Happening of Maya's assault. If you wish to skip this part, stop reading at he first 🛑 and continue reading after the second 🛑.
Please be safe, and know that my DM is always open.
Brent opens the door for me with a major smile, and he pulls me in a quick hug. I can already hear the music blasting through the walls.
Brent is extremely lucky to have a house without direct neighbors. If I had my music blasting this loud, the neighbors would complain relentlessly.
"Is there something I can get you already?"
"Every liquor is fine at the moment."
Brent laughs, "I saw you and Lance walking when I went to the store. Everything alright?"
"He is Lance," I tell him with a smile on my face. "Do you need any other explanation?"
"What did he do?" The tone of his voice slightly dropped, and I recognized the protective tone.
"Nothing. He is just Lance, and he is arrogant, stupidly confident in himself and cocky." And he has dreamy eyes, and his lips are nice to kiss.
"Uh huh," Brent nods, filling some shot glasses with vodka. "I thought those weeks apart from him would do you good... You need to take some distance, Maya. You're falling for him and that is not good."
"I already told you I was fucked," I say, accepting the vodka shots and downing them. "And that was before we kissed."
"You kissed?!"
"Keep your voice down," I roam my eyes over the room, checking if people had heard Brent.
My eyes fall on the one person I had wished not to be here, and directly my breathing stocks, my skin becomes a sea of goosebumps and panic is about to set in.
"Why did you invite Joey?" I ask softly, his eyes are burning holes in my back, he knows exactly the power he holds over me, and Joey is thrilling it.
"What do you mean?" Brent asks, arching his brows.
"I thought I told you... I don't like Joey around." I lower my voice.
"Yes, Maya, and we've had this conversation ever since the Winter Fair at your dad's station."
Because that's where it happened.
"I know that you are friends with him," I start, but I know what I wanted to say next is selfish. And I can't say that to Brent.
Brent gives me another drink, Bacardi with Coca Cola. "You're both my best friends, and I wish you two could get along. I wish you could at least pretend you like him."
