Summer Shorts - Anthology

Press Play by silvercastles

Press Play by silvercastles

SUMMER WAS FINE.

Actually, Mavis loves the season. It feels refreshing, liberating. There's no need for her to wear her coat and jacket or put on a beanie and ear muffs. And there's also the fact that she likes to take long walks around the park  and feed her senses with the scintillating lights and the warm summer breeze kissing her shoulders.

But ever since she and Weston decided to have another try at whatever they used to have — things changed. Summer means flying to different parts of the world where they know they can go out without being recognized. It means sneaking around the watchful eyes of his fans. And with Clandestine's growing popularity, it isn't easy. Not at all.

But summer also means being with the boy who holds her heart and handles it with care, and somehow, that makes everything okay.

Valerie pushes the door wide open, and Mavis welcomed by the warm and cozy hotel room. "They have time off until tomorrow afternoon when they'll have to leave for Paris," says Valerie as she starts to pace inside the room, her maroon heels silenced by the lush carpet. "Have you gone around the city?"

"Unfortunately, no. I'll try sometime later."

The older girl places Mavis' suitcase beside the closet and reaches for her phone. "Well, I'm sure we can have your transportation arranged. Would you rather ride the train or have someone to drive you around?"

Mavis purses her lips and shifts her weight on both feet. It feels different — all of this feels strangely surreal. To be a part of Weston's life again is different from what she imagined. "I think I'll be resting for a while," she says, returning Valerie's warm smile. "I'm a bit exhausted, so I'll catch on some sleep first."

For a moment, Valerie purses her lips and understanding flashes across her eyes. Mavis feels guilty because she knows that Weston and Valerie — even the other members of Clandestine — are doing their best to make her feel as comfortable as possible. Before she can say anything, Valerie is already hugging her and excusing herself, saying that she needs to talk to Cad Adams before he wrecks havoc upon the furniture.

And at the back of her mind, she wonders what Weston is like when she isn't there. Still, she fastens on an assuring smile and patiently waits until Valerie is out the door. Once she is all alone, Mavis flops down on the bed and rests her head against the pillow.

Breathe, Mavis.

At the back of her mind, she can't help but wonder how much Weston has changed. She barely knows him now. And she's not that stupid to fool herself into thinking that the Weston who left is still the same Weston she barely sees. She knows he tries his best.

But she also knows that he has his dreams to chase after, and she'll never be able to blame him if she is only secondary to that.

Her thoughts are consuming her, that much she knows, so she opens her Spotify account and plays the first thing that comes to her mind — where the sun doesn't shine  —  and it takes her a while to realize that it's by Clandestine and probably the first song she's grown to love.

Breathe.

Before her thoughts can become any more toxic than they already are, she closes her eyes and lets sleep drift her away as Weston's voice sweetly lulls her to rest.

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MAVIS IS YANKED back to reality by the sound of someone cursing and the door of her bathroom slamming against the wall. Ordinarily, she'll be angered by the rude awakening. But she recognizes Weston's voice — pinpoints the smooth baritone against the harsh lighting of the afternoon sun — and her headache dwindles.