Fragmented ✔️

13. Cold waters

During our Sunday lunch at Zaire's house, my dad told everyone about my plans of taking breaks from my own anxiety by facing another fear. My best friend laughed until he realised he was serious. He sat there silent while I reeled off some of the information I had gathered over the week and described my zip wire jump with Matt.

His amusement turned into curiosity and as soon as he finished his last mouthful of food, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me to his room. We spent the rest of the afternoon making phone calls and booking ourselves onto a group rafting session.

Although there was a centre close by, Zaire insisted it wouldn't be large enough or even crazy enough to fulfil my need for a rush of adrenaline and booked us on one in Wales. We argued over having to drive four hours away merely to make me happy, but he defended that it was as much for him as it was for me.

Excitement grew in the pit of my stomach as we looked through all the images of the Welsh countryside and the natural white water rapids. The feeling only increased when Zaire rang Matt to add him to our reservation.

And that's how I found myself, standing in front of my house at five in the morning, the following Saturday. The rucksack on my back was filled with my warmest clothes and swimsuit. My mum had left an extra fluffy blanket by my shoes and a note to tell me not to catch a cold. The hearts scribbled around the edges softened any sharpness in her words.

I draped the blanket over my folded arms and held it close to my chest, shielding me from the bitter morning air. Harsh car lights shone down the quiet street of my neighbourhood, and my insides buzzed from all the anticipation. Rocking on the balls of my feet, I waited for them to park up before I made my way down.

CeCe, who was added to our booking at the last minute so I wouldn't be sharing a room alone, sat in the front of Zaire's car. When Zaire had put the idea past me, I froze and was ashamed to admit a small part of me wished she couldn't make it. We spoke at length about their relationship, but he promised they were nothing more than friends. His assurance eased my worries about him moving on so quickly from Saffron.

I was busy admiring the lilac headscarf she used to tie her tight curls away from her face when the backdoor opened and Matt came shuffling out. He filled out his black jumper with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and dark jeans, perfectly. His tousled hair fell over his forehead and those whiskey eyes locked on mine the moment he got out. I could no longer describe my nerves as butterflies. No, they were more like lions roaring in my chest.

Matt and I had only seen each other briefly after our weekly group therapy session, and neither one of us mentioned the shift in our friendship from the previous Saturday night.

His hands initially behind his back, Matt held out a small jar in front of him, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "This is for you."

I tilted my head to read the cursive writing on the label and narrowed my eyes. "Is that honey?" The corners of my mouth turned up. Anyone could buy flowers, but Matt wasn't anyone.

"Yeah, you said you loved it." He took a step forward and put the jar in my open palms, brushing his fingers over my knuckles as he did.

"No one's ever bought me honey before," I laughed and Matt followed suit. He grabbed my bag off my shoulder and placed it in the boot, all while I stared down at his thoughtful gift. My pulse quickened when his own honey pools fixed back on me, waiting until I climbed into the backseat of Zaire's car.

"Morning people. Are we ready for Wales?" I shouted as I clambered in.

"Hey, this is for you." CeCe twisted round in her seat and handed over a takeaway cup from a coffee shop chain.