Losing Control

Chapter 1

- Parker -

"How could you possibly own this much stuff? It's like a damn crap museum in here," Charlotte gestured to the massive stacks of boxes that lay scattered in disarray across my bedroom floor. We had spent the majority of my visit sorting through my life inventory, boxing the "do's" for storage and the "don'ts" for donations.

Sealing one off with masking tape, I gestured for a Sharpie, which was promptly thrown to me. "I don't.. I just have a forgetful best friend who leaves her shit all over my room and forces me to claim it," I retorted teasingly as I scrawled "Video Games" across the top of the box.

A cased 30 Seconds to Mars album came flying past my head an instant later, followed by a string of profanities that made me laugh aloud. In just a few seconds, we were both doubled over in laughter, her pixie-like giggle mixing with my deeper chuckle and filling the air with the beautiful sound.

These were the moments that I always looked forward to when I visited Doncaster -- the ones that I could spend laughing with my best friend in the whole world.

"Parker, Manny is here!' My mum called from downstairs, and the laughter immediately ceased. Just like that, the moment was gone. The playful glint in her hazelnut eyes turned somber again, her pearly white smile was enclosed by her subtle pink lips, and her prominent dimples disappeared into the hiding place offered by her rosy cheeks. We both knew what those words meant; it was time for me to go back to London.

"Charlie," I started, but she was already at the bedroom door, gathering her keys before glancing back at me, offering a small smile.

"We're not doing a big mushy goodbye, Parker.. after all, I'll be there in a few days, and you'll be proposing! Ah, I just know Lizzie's going to say yes! My wittle Sparky Parky, all grown up," She cooed my childhood nickname at me before I tossed a pillow at her and told her not-so politely to go home. She laughed once more, filling the air with that familiar, lighthearted sound before disappearing behind the door and down the stairs.

A smile graced my lips as I thought about the days to come. In a mere 72 hours, I would be getting down on one knee before the love of my life, asking for her hand in marriage. 72 hours before I could start planning the rest of my life with the beautiful, intelligent, remarkable woman I had the pleasure of calling my girlfriend for the past three years. 72 hours until I was granted the pleasure of saying, "Elizabeth Jane Crofter, will you marry me?"

With that, I snatched up the "Video Games" box and hauled it down the stairs to the moving truck that Manny had rented for me. As I was loading it into the back, I caught a glimpse of a little white Mercedes convertible speeding down the residential drive in the sideview mirror of the large vehicle. A mass of long, brown curls whipping furiously in the wind confirmed my suspicion, and I smiled to myself as Charlie rounded the corner and sped off into the traffic-laden rush hour, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of exhaust and the first horribly sung-along verse of Don't in her wake.

- Charlie -

I dialed down the volume on the Ed Sheeran song blaring through my car speakers before pulling into the driveway of the familiar red brick house. The absence of my mum's car told me that she'd already gone in for her shift at the local pharmacy, so I'd be blissfully alone and free to blast music while I packed for London. A smile unintentionally tugged at my lips as I hung my keys and jacket. The thought of Parker getting married still seemed so insane to me...

...The thing about time is that it doesn't wait for anybody, ever. My mom drilled that into my head when I was very young, yet I still couldn't comprehend how quickly our youth became adulthood. It seemed like just last week, we were blowing bubbles and playing hopscotch in the street...now, it would only be three days' time until he proposed the rest of his life to his sweet, beautiful Elizabeth. The immensity of that just felt so unreal.

The thinking made the packing less of a hassle, and thirty minutes later I was rechecking the details of the trip, my hefty amount of luggage all stacked into one corner of my room. Absentmindedly pulling my wild mane of curls over one shoulder, I sent a quick text to Parker:

To: Parker Reid

The car will be packed, but I think I could fit a few boxes from your landfill in the back. ;)

The response was almost immediate, and so predictable that I almost didn't have to read it:

From: Parker Reid

Fuck. You.

The unintentional laughter that escaped my lips still rang in my ears as I lay back into the comforting cushion of my bed, my iPhone producing a soft thud as it hit the duvet. This was going to be a fun weekend.