Twenty-Two ➳ l.p.

Chapter Two: Honey Caramel

“My eyes are the color of sandpaper,” he snorted, and I shook my head.

“But you’re not rough, Liam. It’s more like a honey caramel.”

“That’s a bit too romantic for my taste.”

Chapter Two: Honey Caramel

                  It was absolutely grueling and impossible to get my mum off my back and off the subject of Liam. Even when Matt came home, she only paused to give a quick kiss to his rust colored hair—which he had to bend down to give her access to—and then she went on and on yapping about him.

                  Couldn’t she see that I didn’t want to talk about him?

                  “Matthew, you should’ve seen him,” she gushed, giddy little smile on her face as she practically pranced around the room. “Don’t you remember when little Liam was only under your nose?”

                  Matt nodded, but we both knew it was lie. Liam and always been tall for his age—as had Matt—but Liam was always the taller of the two.

                  “Matt, he had muscles. And he had tattoos. I never would’ve thought that our little, lanky Liam would grow up so nicely.”

                  It was too much. Liam wasn’t little, and he certainly wasn’t our Liam, and the more that Mum talked, the more bilious I felt.

                  Dad seemed to understand, God, even Matt seemed to be able to see that I wasn’t interested in the subject of Liam. Abbie had left a long while ago when my mum first began to gawk and squeal, and boy, she was lucky.

                  I couldn’t take this.

                  “I’m going up to my room; call me when dinner’s ready,” I mumbled, shoving myself up from the couch. My mum looked at me from under her fiery red lashes for only half a second before she was yapping away again like a little terrier.

                  I made my way up the stairs quickly, throwing myself onto my bed and kicking the door closed. My gaze immediately fell to my curtained window, and I wondered what Liam was doing.

                  Is he thinking about me too?

                  I knew it was nonsense, but I couldn’t get the thought and the uneasy feeling to subside. I knew that Liam wouldn’t think of me; not when he had the boys and his family and everything else he’d ever craved for.

                  After twenty-two times, Liam had finally gotten me out of his life.

                  He didn’t want me back.

                  And I didn’t blame him.

                  I tried to turn my eyes back to my Teen Vogue magazine; I tried to watch the stupid animation flickering across my television but I couldn’t do that either.

                  I couldn’t keep my mind off of the one thing that I dreaded to think about.

                  So in frustration, I flicked the empty can of gross soda off of my bed; I shoved the magazine off of the duvet, not caring in the slightest when the cover ripped off; I loped my fingers through my snarled bulk of rubicund curls and didn’t stop until I was breathing heavily, until my heart was pounding out of my chest and beyond my body, and my breath was rough and jagged.