My Toxin

Chapter 27

The villa was in shambles.

Empty bottles and half-filled glasses cluttered every surface. Plates with barely-touched food were stacked on the dining table, and discarded shoes and jackets were scattered across the living room like forgotten relics of the night before. The faint smell of stale alcohol and sweat clung to the air, making the atmosphere even heavier. The tension wasn't just in the mess—it was between all of us.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a black coffee, my head pounding from the aftermath of too many drinks and not enough sleep. The silence was oppressive. Ayo shuffled in first, rubbing his face and muttering something about needing water. His shirt was wrinkled, and he looked as tired as I felt.

"Morning," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Is it, though?" I muttered, taking another sip of my coffee.

He grunted in agreement and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

Marjorie entered next, barefoot and wearing an oversized T-shirt that just skimmed her thighs. Her braids were still a mess from sleep, but she somehow managed to look effortlessly beautiful. She didn't look at me as she grabbed a trash bag from under the sink and began picking up empty bottles.

"You don't have to do that," I said, my tone sharper than I intended.

"Someone has to," she replied without looking up.

Nicole and Chanel appeared next, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and irritation. Nicole ignored Ayo entirely as she grabbed a protein bar from the counter, her movements brisk and deliberate. Chanel, on the other hand, kept shooting sideways glances at Michael, who trailed in after her looking sheepish.

No one said anything for a while. The tension in the room was suffocating.

It wasn't until the cleaning staff arrived and started clearing away the mess that the mood began to shift. Marjorie, surprisingly, was the one to break the silence.

"We should go out," she said, her voice softer now. "Spend the day at the beach or something. It's our last day in Santorini. Let's not waste it."

There were hesitant nods, but eventually, everyone agreed. Ayo suggested a hidden cove he'd read about, and within the hour, we were packed into the cars, each of us eager for a change of scenery.

The beach was stunning. White cliffs framed a secluded stretch of sand, and the water was so clear you could see straight to the bottom. The waves lapped gently against the shore, creating a soothing backdrop as we set up towels and umbrellas.

For the first time in days, it felt like we could breathe again.

Nicole and Ayo kicked off a volleyball game almost immediately, their earlier tension forgotten as they laughed and teased each other. Chanel and Michael sat close, talking quietly, and though I still didn't understand her decision to forgive him, it wasn't my place to interfere.

Marjorie and I found a spot near the water, the cool waves lapping at our feet as we sat in comfortable silence. Eventually, she broke it.

"Alex," she said, her voice soft.

I turned to her, my chest tightening. "Yeah?"

She hesitated, her fingers tracing patterns in the sand. "I owe you an apology. For everything. For kissing Jordan, for the way I've treated you... for all of it."

I stayed quiet, letting her continue.

"I've been scared," she admitted, her voice trembling. "You're the first person who's ever made me feel like I'm worth something. But instead of embracing that, I kept pushing you away because I was terrified of ruining it. And when I saw you with Isabella..." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "It hurt. It hurt more than I thought it would."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Marjorie..." I started, but she shook her head.

"No, let me finish," she said. "I care about you, Alex. More than I've ever cared about anyone. And I don't want to run anymore. I want to try—really try—but I know I have a lot to work on. We both do."

I reached for her hand, holding it between mine. "You're not the only one who's scared, Marjorie. I've spent so much time chasing you, trying to prove myself to you, that I forgot to take care of myself. We can't keep doing this to each other."

She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "So... what do we do?"

I took a deep breath, the answer clear in my mind. "We see someone. A therapist. Together and separately. We work on ourselves so we can work on us."

Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. "Okay. Let's do it. No more games, Alex. I'm all in."

I squeezed her hand, relief washing over me. "No more games."

The rest of the day was exactly what we needed.

Nicole and Ayo spent hours in the water, their laughter echoing across the cove as they raced each other through the waves. At one point, Ayo pulled her aside, his expression serious.

"I'm sorry for last night," he said. "And for the way I've been acting. You deserve better, Nicole. I care about you, but I'm not ready for a relationship. I don't want to string you along."

Nicole sighed, her eyes searching his. "I appreciate your honesty, Ayo. I think... maybe we're better off as friends."

He smiled, relief evident in his expression. "Friends it is."

Chanel and Michael spent most of the afternoon talking quietly under an umbrella. Despite everything, she decided to give him one more chance, much to the disapproval of Nicole and Marjorie.

"I know it's not what you want to hear," Chanel said later, when the girls confronted her about it. "But it's my decision. If he screws up again, I'll walk. But for now, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt."

By the time the sun began to set, the group was gathered around a makeshift firepit, sharing stories and laughing like old times. The tension from the morning had melted away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie that had been missing for far too long.

As we took a group photo to commemorate the day, I couldn't help but feel hopeful. The trip had been messy, emotional, and chaotic, but it had also brought us closer in ways I hadn't expected.

We weren't perfect, but for the first time, it felt like we were on the right path. And as Marjorie leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder, I knew we'd figure it out—together.