Timeless Tides | ENGLOT

Chapter 8: Untangling Emotions

Calista's POV:

My head is throbbing, it's dull, but persistent. My legs are wobbly as I undress in front of the bathroom mirror, and I must concentrate as to not tip over. Casting a glance at the mirror, I take a minute to study my own reflection.

Maverick would always leave a bite mark or two near my collarbone, but all Ember left was tenderness and tingling sensations and an insatiable craving for soft lips and warm tongue strokes.

Meeting my own eyes in the mirror, I wonder if they hold the answer I need. My body is still wrapped in the smell of Ember's sheets, and in its wake, images of last night follows. It clouds my judgement. I itch to return to her apartment, to snuggle up to her, let now be now and the past stay in the past.

But it's not that easy.

While I don't regret last night, a part of me – that part of me that broke eight years ago – wishes I did, wishes I could take it back.

It would be easier then.

I step into my shower with a heavy sigh.

The eight-year old cracks in my heart were never mended. I realize that now. And as I twist the red knob and the blue knob letting water rinse me from a night of beautiful sin, I break.

I cry, silently screaming under still cold water. I cry so hard that I forget to breathe, my lungs protesting, forcing me to heave in air with so much force it burns.

The cold tiles are slippery, wet against my palms, it's hard to stay standing, but I fight the wobbly knees, not able to see a thing through tears and water and heavy eyelids.

Gradually, the water warms up and my muscles relax. I let the onslaught of water drum against my neck, my head hung low between my shoulders. Eventually, the tears ebb out, and I find the strength to wash off the rest of Ember's scent with soap and shampoo.

All physical evidence is gone, but I can't forget.

Last night, I had a taste of the Ember I so desperately wanted eight years ago. That Ember and that Calista still exist. We were nineteen and fifteen again. Except we aren't. We're twenty-seven and twenty-three, and that still leaves four years between us.

I don't want to lose my best friend, Calista. But this is all we can be.

It infuriates me.

Ember. Broke. My. Heart.

And now she has the audacity to make it flutter again.

No.

This time I stand my ground.

No more kissing my best friend.

I turn off the water, step out of the shower, and grab the towel on the rack. Once dry, I leave the towel on the floor in a lazy pile. Too tired, too sore, too broken, I go straight to bed, and I find a flicker of hope in the way the sheets envelope my naked body. This place – my apartment – has not been tainted by the presence of Ember, and for now, it's enough to make me forget.

...

For what it's worth, I sleep, and for those few hours, I sleep like a rock. Through the window, the sun is burning me alive, and I mutter profanities in a half-asleep state as I envision myself pull down the blinds, but really, I don't feel like leaving the bed any time soon. Instead I roll over, groaning as my body seems more heavy than usual, until my head reaches the tiny patch of a shadow still at the corner of my bed.

This will have to do.

I sigh.

This is unbearable.