Nineteen-year-old, Bea Somerton, knows exactly how she wants to live. Become a doctor, remain in remission from her childhood Leukaemia and have a happy, normal, life.
The last thing she expects is to meet rising star and troubled musician, Holden P...
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"And then I met you."
Four months earlier
I notice a bruise blooming across my skin; covering the layers of my inner forearm. I freeze, my reflection in the mirror staring back at me as my eyes shift towards my arm. I finish tying my blonde hair back, lowering my arms slowly as I try to process the empty pit in my stomach.
I turn my arm over, placing my fingers tentatively around the bruise. I flinch when I press too hard, noticing the fresh array of purples and reds covering the area.
When had this appeared? Did I knock myself? I must have.
It's fine. You're fine. It means nothing.
I place my hospital lanyard on the corner of the basin, noticing my shaky hands. My phone vibrates; Parker's caller ID lighting up the screen. I ignore it.
I frantically pull up my shirt, checking my skin for signs of red spots. I turn away from the mirror, swivelling my neck to the side, studying my back as I grip my scrubs, clenching my teeth as I strain to peer at my skin.
Nothing. Nothing is there. Relief doesn't wash over me, though. A fresh bruise, one that has appeared from nowhere, is never a good sign. I've known that since I was ten.
There's a knock from the other side of the staff toilet door. I jump, gripping the corners of the basin as my lanyard clatters into the sink. I watch the smiling picture that stares back at me, noticing her naivety.
Nothing lasts forever. It's why you need to make everything count, Bea.
"Bea? I've really gotta go! How much longer will you be?"
I find my eyes in the mirror, the irises a dull green. I don't like to admit it, but this bruise has single handily ruined my entire day.
I place the lanyard around my neck, picking up my phone to find two missed calls from Parker. I pocket it, unlocking the bathroom door to find Anna moving from leg to leg, clamping her teeth.
"Sorry," I apologise, "I—"
"No, time to talk! Martha is looking for you!" She barges past me to get to the bathroom, shutting the door quickly.
My phone vibrates again, and I sigh, reaching for it. "Parker," I say, curtly, "you know I'm working, right?"
"You're a cleaner," he deadpans. "It isn't hard to multitask."
"Look," I begin, "I can't talk right now. I've—"
"I'm just reminding you that you've got your annual checkup tonight."
Like I could forget something as significant as that. Especially after today.
"Thanks," I roll my eyes. "Sometimes I forget that you're the one that didn't have leukemia. You talk about it enough."
