Victoria Aspen's life just turned inside out.
She has been forced to move into the house she used to spend every summer in. It's been so long since she was welcomed back into the family and this time... they didn't really have a choice.
But thi...
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PLEASE LISTEN TO THE SONG ^^^^^ FIREFLIES BY RON POPE <3
"We're completely alone now, you know." One aquamarine iris disappears in a sly wink.
"Shut up."
"But you know –"
"Shut. Up." I tighten my crossed arms, unamused expression unwavering. He opens his smirking lips to say something more and I cut him off.
"Shut up, Donovan."
"Make me, Aspen."
I exhale loudly and groan. "Don't you have some poor girl to seduce?"
"Yes. Don't you have some math to memorise?" He says. I clench my jaw and narrow my eyes.
"Who told you?" I audibly grind my teeth and I swear I see his demeanour flicker for a second. And then it's back.
"Alex." He turns and mounts the counter, which I'm positive Sally would never allow. Too bad she and Ashley abandoned us to look at recipes. Even though Ashley has barely got time to eat, she is an absolute nutter for recipes. She can't cook, but she likes to dream.
"Alex doesn't talk to you." I snap, resembling a hormonal, prepubescent girl. It's true, though. I haven't seen Alex speak a word to Mason since the barbeque. He didn't even spare a glance at him at Dylan's movie night.
Even when he saw the boy sleeping right beside me. The only thing that stopped that awkward waking-up-cuddling-your-neighbour moment that I was afraid of was the fact that Mason must have woken up early and freaked out first.
All I know is that I awakened cold and empty while Mason pretended it never happened. Thank God. I don't know what I'd say if he brought it up.
But ever since then I've been waking up in the middle of the night, and it hasn't exactly been pleasant. You never really know how much you need another person until you've had them, do you?
"No, but he talks to Dylan." This much is true. "And Dylan talks Stanley and Stanley talks to me." He shrugs and I roll my eyes.
Tonight Mason's wearing a blue v-neck sweater covered in stripes. Somehow his muscles bulge through the horrible, seasonal knit. The royal blue cotton makes his eyes brighter and his golden hair glitter. How dare he make an ugly sweater work for him?
"Who wears a Christmas sweater in Spring?" I decide to hop topics, my favourite manoeuvre.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly noticing my uneasiness. "He whose mother knits him a sweater every birthday as well as every Christmas."
I wish I had a mother to knit me sweaters. I guess I never did.
