The cabin is even more beautiful than I envisioned.

With an elegant timber frame, a porch that wraps around the house, and no other dwellings for miles, it's an introvert's dream. I can already imagine coming outside to watch the sunset, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

The interior of the cabin is just as stunning. The farmhouse kitchen has rich mahogany floors and blick-lined walls. The lounge area looks unbelievably cozy, with a suede L-shaped couch and several armchairs with matching ottomans. A massive flatscreen is mounted on the wall, which I'm sure Cordelia's family never watches. From what I know about rich people, extravagant appliances like giant TVs and thousand-dollar espresso machines are more for show than actual use.

"Alright, there are six bedrooms," Cordelia announces. "Declan and I already have dibs on the master, but the others are up for grabs."

As if she just waved a flag, everyone races up the stairs two at a time. Aside from Declan and Cordelia, there are seven of us and only five bedrooms.

A blonde girl and a guy with shaggy brown hair slip into one room, quickly closing the door behind them. Another boy claims the chamber adjacent to theirs.

There are three rooms remaining, but four of us. Jose, Effie, Damian, and I stare at each other, unsure of what to do.

Before the panic sets in, Effie loops her arm through mine and says, "You boys pick the rooms you want. I'll bunk with Layla."

I shoot her a grateful look as Damian and Jose choose their sleeping quarters for the week. We take the last room and begin to unpack our suitcases.

"The bed's big enough for both of us," Effie says, "but if you want me to take the floor, I will."

"We can share the bed," I reply, glancing at the queen-sized mattress. "Thank you, by the way, for offering to stay with me. My other options were my ex-boyfriend and—"

"The guy you're madly in love with?"

My mouth hangs open as I struggle to form words. "Wh-what?"

"It's obvious to anyone with eyes that you two are head-over-heels for each other," she states, shrugging her shoulders.

"Damian and I are just friends," I say for the millionth time.

"Layla, I was the one who found you half alive in the cemetery, remember? I sat with Damian in the waiting room of Starkton General for hours. Boy, was he a mess."

"Yeah, because we're friends."

"He told me you had a smile that could cure cancer. Do 'just friends' say that?"

I stop unpacking and turn to her. "Wait, did he actually use those words?"

She nods her head. "Verbatim."

I flop down on the bed. Since Jessica and I stopped speaking, I haven't had a girlfriend to confide in about these sorts of things. It's frustrating that she won't talk to me, especially since I don't understand why.

"Look," Effie goes on, "I've never had a guy best friend, but if you like each other, what's standing in your way?"

I let out a heavy sigh. My whole life, I've strived to convince people that Damian and I weren't dating, that we were just friends, nothing more. If I give into these feelings now, then does that mean it was all a lie?

More importantly, was I trying to convince everyone else, or was I really just trying to convince myself?

"Let's not discuss Damian right now," I change the subject, propping my head on my palm. "Tell me more about you, roomie."

Over the next hour, I learn that Effie Holt, like me, is a bit of a loner. She's close with her older sister but doesn't talk to many kids at school. She only accepted Cordelia's invitation as a way to escape her family for the week.

I also discover something else: when Effie was fifteen, she was hospitalized for a month after being struck by lightning.

"I'm partially deaf in one ear," she says, "and my arms, legs, and back are covered in scar tissue."

"That's... insane," I murmur. "The odds of that happening are, like, one in thirteen-thousand."

"I know. I should start buying lottery tickets, huh?"

"You definitely should. You'd be an instant millionaire."

She chuckles, but her smile quickly dips into a frown. "You know, when Elowen was going off on us for all the terrible things we supposedly did to her, I really wanted to bring up the fact that my so-called 'friend' didn't visit me in the hospital after I almost died. I guess she was too busy being mad at me for talking to boys or whatever."

I think back to that terrifying morning and shake my head. "Yeah, Elowen said a lot of interesting things that day."

"So did you," Effie whispers, her dark eyes filled with curiosity. "What you said about your dad... is it true? Does he hit you?"

A smirk tugs at my lips. "I guess you're not the only one with scars."

<><><><><><>

The crackling fire holds me captive. I stare at the orange flames, focused on the fiery embers instead of the two boys sitting next to me. One hasn't spoken a word to me since we arrived at the cabin, and the other is scooching a bit too close for comfort.

"So, Layla," Jose says, his thigh touching mine, "I explored the trails a bit today. They're beautiful. We should check them out tomorrow."

"Maybe," I toss back, glancing at Damian, who looks downright miserable.

"I'm gonna get the booze!" someone announces.

"I'll help you," Damian offers, jumping to his feet without so much as looking at me.

I roll my eyes. If he'd rather spend time with a random meathead who he's known for five minutes than with his best friend, so be it. I don't care.

My mood turns sour, and the alcohol doesn't help. I swore off drinking for a while, but I figured one whiskey and coke wouldn't hurt.

I was wrong.

Two mixed drinks and several shots later, I'm stumbling back into the house, angrily mumbling to myself about Damian and what a piece of shit he is.

I hear soft footsteps behind me. I whirl around too fast and almost fall. Luckily, Damian's strong arms keep me upright.

"You're drunk," he states.

"And you're a jerk," I shoot back.

He takes my hand and leads me to the parlor. I lower myself onto the couch, and he sits beside me, his hand never leaving mine.

"Last night, you were so excited about this trip," I remind him. "You made me promise that we'd have fun, that there would be no drama or stress."

"I did say that," he mumbles, his eyes glued to the floor.

"Well, ever since we got here, you've been a fucking drama queen. It's annoying!" I exclaim, running my fingers through my tangled hair. "What happened? Why are you acting like this?"

"I don't know," he murmurs. "Seeing Jose... I guess it just ruined my mood."

"Well, now my mood's ruined, too."

"Layla, you're drunk."

"Yes, I am," I agree, "but that's irrelevant. You still suck!"

Without another word, I stumble upstairs, strip off my clothes, and put myself to bed.

I lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees. An exasperated sigh escapes my lips as I shake my head, contemplating what to do.

Should I chase after her? Should I give her space? Fuck. I thought I knew her better than anyone, but ever since our almost-kiss, nothing's been the same. I feel like I'm standing in a pile of eggshells every time she's around. It used to be so simple, so easy. I miss never having to second guess myself or our relationship.

But I can't ignore the way I feel, the fire that burns inside of me whenever she's near. I loved Jessi, but this is different. This is all-consuming. I can't stop thinking about the what-might-have-been's or the what-could-be's.

I just can't stop thinking about Layla.

"You've really done it this time."

Still on the couch, I look up and see Effie. With her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, she's the physical embodiment of disappointment.

"Go after her," she advises. "Bring her some water while you're at it."

"She doesn't want to talk to me," I mumble.

Effie shakes her head. "You're wrong. That girl is crazy about you."

I leap to my feet. "Why? Did she say something?"

"She didn't have to."

"It's just that we've been friends for so long—"

"And you're still friends. You'll always be friends," Effie cuts in. "That's why you need to go after her. If you care about her, you won't let her go to bed angry."

Nodding my head, I fetch a bottle of water out of the fridge and race up the stairs. I knock on Layla's door, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but she doesn't answer.

"Layla?" I call out.

Slowly, I turn the knob and push the door open. I find a trail of clothes and then a very naked, fast asleep Layla sprawled across the queen-sized bed.

I quickly put a hand over my eyes and place a blanket over my best friend's body. Once she is fully covered, I push her to one side of the bed so that Effie has somewhere to sleep tonight.

"Goodnight," I whisper, bringing my lips to her forehead.

She lets out a drowsy sigh, and I swear it's the cutest sound I've ever heard.

I exit her bedroom and shut the door behind me, vowing to make up for my insolent behavior tomorrow.

A/N:
I wonder what tomorrow brings 😉
Thanks for reading with me!!