Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[33]

"If there's an upside to free-falling, it's the chance you give your friends to catch you."

- -

Sloan

My parents' marriage taught me many things, even if I was too young to grasp the full scope of it.

Love isn't just the flutter of infatuation or the rush of adrenaline; it's adoration, it's laughter that fills every corner of a room.

But it's also compromise, hardship, and barriers that seem insurmountable.

It's tears, stress, nerves, and the birth of new beginnings. Yet, when love is genuine—when it consumes you, body and soul—nothing else matters. Because, in the end, you'll find a way to make it work.

And if you don't, well, at least you'll still have each other.

*
On May 20th, Qadri publishes our research paper on Psychoanalytic Therapy and False Memories.

By June 15th, it graces the cover of one of the most esteemed psychology journals.

"That's you!" Ally exclaims, her voice bubbling with excitement, pointing to my face and name boldly displayed on the cover. "That's my best friend!" she announces to a group of strangers strolling past our table at the restaurant.

I can't help but laugh, shaking my head. "Ally."

"Don't you dare downplay this. This is huge! This puts you on the map. Tell her!" she insists, her hand sweeping toward the others, who immediately nod in agreement.

I glance at them, feigning exasperation. "Stop bullying our friends into praising me."

"This is seriously cool, Slo. Congratulations." Michael leans in from the side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, a wink following his words.

"Thank you." I grin, feeling the warmth of their support. "But now, can we please focus on the menus? I'm starving."

Calum's lips quirk into a smirk. "Your money, your orders."

"Exactly, so let's focus." I smile, feeling his hand gently caress my thigh beneath the table, a simple touch that sends an unexpected warmth spreading through me.

It's been a few weeks since the night on the bench when we kissed, and still, the memory lingers like a quiet hum in the background of my thoughts. It was a fleeting moment, but it felt like it was packed with meaning.

The way his lips brushed against mine, soft at first, then insistent as if he couldn't quite help himself—

No, not now. I can't slip into these thoughts. 

Since then, things have been... different. Not in a way that makes me uneasy, but enough to make me question everything.

Our conversations have a tension to them now, a weight that wasn't there before. It's subtle—like when the sun shines too brightly after a storm, and you squint because your eyes aren't quite used to the light.

We still laugh, still talk like we always did, but the silences between us are longer.

He catches my eye a little more often, and when our hands brush, it feels like electricity coursing through my veins.

But we both keep our distance, pretending like it's nothing.

*

The food arrived and disappeared as swiftly as it was set before us, devoured with almost reckless abandon.

Conversations drifted easily around the table, a soft hum of chatter blending with the golden glow of the setting sun outside, its last rays casting a warm hue across the room.

"So, what do you want to do for your birthday?" Mina asks, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

"Nothing," I reply with a dismissive shrug. "Just drinks at the bar will be fine."