Dear beloved reader,

It's been over a year since I updated this story. I had initially written a different chapter, but then life got in the way, my attention went to other things, and I revisited this a few weeks ago and wanted to change the direction of the story. There's a lot in my head, it's hard to get it down on paper. I want to thank you for your patience, because I know a lot of you are dedicated to reading this to the end. I promise you that I will complete it. I hope to see you at the finish line. I really hope you enjoy this story, what else it has to offer and the route I've chosen to take it down. Flo & Jake FTW. 

Enjoy. 

Fifteen

Gold is a precious thing. It's rare, it's sparkly, it's heavy. The delicate gold chain necklace sits in my hand; rare, sparkly and definitely heavy. Heavy with the weight of who gave it to me. I lace it around my neck, clasp it in place, and watch its glint in the artificial lighting of my small bathroom. The ping of my phone snaps me out of my golden trance.

You still coming?

My heart speeds at the name that sits next to the text.

On my way, wouldn't miss your birthday party Lloyd.

I type back, resisting the smile that creeps on my face. My quickened heart rate quickens even more when I see the three dots to anticipate his response.

Good, I thought I was getting stood up there for a second.

I giggle like a teenager in love.

Aren't you one?

I shake the thought from my head.

Lol I would never.

With that, I give myself one final glance in the mirror, eyeing my attempt at a subtle makeup look, checking my all black outfit of an off-the-shoulder ribbed long-sleeved top and skinny jeans. The last time I truly cared about what I looked like was years ago, and now. Only because I'm seeing him. I sigh through pursed lips and leave the apartment with my crossbody bag in hand, clutching it close to me knowing that his present is inside.

***

I get to the apartment block just after ten, the place already crawling with people. My beat-up beetle stands out like a sour thumb amongst the vast luxe cars that sit obnoxiously in their parking spaces, their owners proudly leant against them, no doubt to flaunt to friends that they've bumped into on the way to the concierge entrance. Say hello to the rich kids of Colston. Or shall I say the children of wealthy parents who spoil their children too much.

I used to be one of them.

With a bottomless allowance and parents that never batted an eye lid at the money I was spending, it became like an addiction. I was carelessly wasting ridiculous amounts on empty items that meant little in the grand scheme of things. It would've been okay if the money I was spending was mine, if I'd earned it through my own blood, sweat and tears. But it wasn't. I didn't care about where it came from, and I for sure didn't see its worth. What have I got to show for it now?

A few eyes burn into the back of my head as I park my noisy car up into one of the few free spots left and climb out. Peeking up to see whose eyes these belong to, they were mainly kids from school, but also older people, people well into their twenties, maybe even thirties. Trying to not let their gazes affect my demeanour, I walk towards the entrance, smile at the concierge who Jake introduced me to the last time I came and make my way to the elevator.

The memory of the last time I was here surfaces, and alongside it a ruby hue surfaces on my cheeks. We'd kissed. After all these years of imagining what it might have felt like, all expectations were crushed as the reality of it surpassed them all.

The elevator doors slide open to let the bass from the music seep into the shaft and vibrate against my chest. My footsteps are muffled by the sound of the beat as I make my way to the familiar door. I wonder whether he gets complaints from his neighbours – I can imagine he hosts quite a few of these parties. Just as I'm about to press on the doorbell, Jake's front door swings open to reveal the full extent of the mayhem. A couple stumble out of the door, the girl leading the guy by the hand, both too preoccupied by each other's laughter to notice me. I squeeze past them before the door closes again, stepping into what feels like a nightclub. The low lighting, the mush of bodies dancing to the deafening hip-hop music, the drinks in almost every hand. I used to love this environment; it would be my means of stress relief. Back before I left, the boys, Georgia and I used to go out almost every weekend, either to a house party or a club. I'm unsure how we never got caught at fifteen and sixteen with our terrible fake IDs.

Now though, I've outgrown it. The vibe is no longer fun. The music is too loud. My stomach is too weak for the alcohol. The people, I don't trust. The last party I went to before I left Colston, I was raped.

Lost in stinging thoughts, I manage to find myself midway through the lounge area. I wriggle my way past unfamiliar bodies to get to the balcony, its door already inched open. Stepping out on the concrete, I reach into my bag for my phone to text Jake.

Just got here, on the balcony. Needed some fresh air.

"Flo," a voice calls to my right.

My eyes flick to find a face to match the deep voice. A cigarette lies between his lips as they smile at me. If it weren't for the shadows storming under his eyes or the slightly slimmer frame, I'd say River looks more or less the same as the last day I saw him. Which also happened to be the day I kissed him.

No, I'm wrong. Very wrong. At first glance he's the same, but studying him even more, it's as if he used to be a shiny new toy that has now been dragged through the mud. What's happened to him?

"They told me you were back," River goes on to say loudly over the music that intrudes the otherwise peaceful night air.

I only realise now that my jaw is ajar. I'm quick to close it and reply.

"River, hi,"

"Hello," he takes a drag and removes the cigarette with his thumb and index finger. "How have you been?"

So, he hasn't kicked the smoking habit?

I nod slowly, "getting there, how are you?"

"Happy to see you, it's been a while," he takes a moment to study something in my eyes, brows furrowing as if he's trying to understand something. "They told me you were at Jake's fight last month. How long have you been back for?"

They? Ky or Lea? Or maybe Jake himself?

"I got here in July, been keeping a low profile though,"

It's his eyes. They're sucken. His cheekbones too – there's an edge to them that's too sharp.

"I can tell," his lips curve upwards slightly. A few seconds of stillness pass before he goes into his pocket to bring out a packet of cigarettes and points them in my direction.

"No, thanks, I quit," I say, watching him stuff the packet back into his jacket.

"Yeah, same," he smiles even wider, taking another drag.

"It fucks up your lungs, you know. Maybe you should actually quit?" I say amusedly.

He scoffs, "the first time I see you in years, and you want to mother me again?"

"I mean, you needed to be mothered back then," I let a gently laugh go.

He shakes his head, the reminiscent smile still lightening up his otherwise melancholy demeanour. He looks so...tired.

"Seriously, it's good to see you again. How have you been?" His eyes turn to take in the night view of the town, leaning against the glass ledge.

Taking a few steps forward, I join him in eyeing the ordered, yet jumbled array of lights spread across the horizon.

"It's good to see you too, I'm sorry it wasn't sooner," I reply, genuinely meaning it.

I glance at my former best friend. He has a quality about him, especially with his friends, where you instantly feel at home, comfortable, at ease. And, in my case, as if I'd never left and not spoken to him in two years. The conversation, although as short as it's been so far, feels as if we're picking off right where we left off.

It's annoying that the last memory I have of him is me drunkenly kissing him.

"I've been okay, how about you?"

"Good," he nods, taking another drag and exhaling the smoke into the summer night breeze. I watch it swirl upwards before it disperses into nothingness.

"I've been better," he responds, clenching his jaw.

I can tell. What's bothering him?

"How come?"

There's a long pause. I look towards him to figure the reason, only to find him looking back at me – he's confused.

"You don't know?" The confusion echoes in his voice.

"I don't know what, River?"

"There you are," I hear a familiar comforting voice from behind us, yet it instantly brings with it the memories from two years ago.

Like a stampede, the images of Jake's face dropping as he saw River and I in a bedroom together, his back as he walked away, River's back as he ran after him to dissolve the situation. All this as I was rooted in place. My body frozen from the shock of what I had just done. Unlike then, I'm not doing anything wrong now, but I haven't been in the same space as River and Jake since that time. So, no wonder all the horrid memories are flooding my head now, intoxicating me.

River and I turn to face Jake. That's when I think Jake realises that River is the person stood next me, and I swear I can see his face drop for a split second, but he's speedy to resist it.

"Oh hey, Lea was looking for you," Jake bobs his head towards the full-fledged party still going on inside, a party completely oblivious to the rigidness of the air between us three.

"Ah, yeah, I better go before she sees me with one of these," River says, holding up the almost blunt cigarette before leaning down to stub it in the ash tray placed on the table perched in the corner of the balcony, an empty chair is sat accompanying it. "Speak to you soon, yeah?"

Tense from the friction building around us, it takes me a couple of seconds to realise his farewell is directed at me.

"Yeah," I quickly nod, a faint smile making a poor attempt to hide my discomfort.

And with that, Jake and I are alone. He slides the door shut after River steps inside, blocking us out from his party.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, you?" I'm prodding to see whether he had a problem with River and I being alone.

"You don't look okay," he dodges my question, but his observation is right.

I feel uneasy. I don't know exactly where him and I stand. And now, he's just seen me alone with his best friend, someone who I once kissed, and we still haven't spoken about that. It's the elephant on this balcony, and frankly, there's not enough room for it – I feel as though it's crushing both of us.

I genuinely smile in response to his words, "is my face that obvious?"

He takes a few steps forward towards me until we're mere inches apart.

"This the first time you've seen River, right?"

So, River is on his mind? Is it for the same reasons as me?

Reaching down to hold both my hands with his, his eyes examine them as if what he beholds is something delicate, like he wouldn't dare break them or let them go. I don't take my eyes off of his. If you see an ocean as beautiful as them, you wouldn't either.

"Yes," I force out, not wanting to talk about it.

But you will have to eventually, this elephant is fucking fat.

"There's something on your mind," he guesses so accurately. "Just say it."

I will get rid of the elephant, but not on your birthday.

Without thinking twice, my right hand lets go of his to rest on his solid chest.

"I'm really glad you were born eighteen years ago," I say, really meaning it.

It makes his beautiful ocean eyes snap up to look directly into mine.

The look he gives me causes my breath to tangle in my throat and my stomach to knot and my heart to stumble on its beat and my brain to go into overdrive and...I can go on. He has never truly looked at me like this before. I can't find the right words to explain what it is. But I think he does.

"And I'm really glad you're finally here, next to me,"

That's what it is. Love. He is looking at me with love. And I cannot believe it. Pinch me.

"I wish I never left,"

He shakes his head, "I wish I didn't do a lot of shit too, but that's not the point; I'm grateful you're here now."

Before I can respond, the balcony door slides open, shortly followed by a loud, "yoooooo! There you are, we need you inside, and it's definitely not because we want to light the candles on the cake and sing you happy birthday."

It's Ky, he seems a little drunk, he was always the comic drunk, I guess nothing has changed in that respect.

Jake smirks, rolls his eyes, then turns around to face him, never letting go of my hand.

"Oh, Flo, hey!" Ky shouts over the music. "Can you please drag your hubby in here quickly, I'm shit at surprises."

His statement makes both of us laugh, yet my heart clings onto hubby for a bit too long.

"We better go before he injures himself," I tell Jake's ear, pressing into his arm to push him inside.

He leads the way with a gorgeous laugh, ours fingers still tangled together like a bean stalk, intertwining us as Ky directs us to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. The DJ fades the music until it's hardly audible, instead it's replaced by the partygoers collectively singing Happy Birthday. I spot River and Lea, alongside a few other familiar faces from school in the crowd. We finally come to a halt as we see the glare of flames from the candles that read 18. They stand high on top of a two-tier cake that everyone is circling, all eyes on the birthday boy. I try to step back and hide behind him, as to not be in the spotlight, however his grip on my hand only tightens to draw me closer to his side.

Reaching the end of the song, everyone erupts into a frenzy of applause and whistling, waiting for him to bend down and blow out the candles. He does exactly that, and there's an even louder applause. River steps up next to him to give him a brotherly hug, as does a tipsy Ky, followed by Lea. The audience settles down as Jake starts to address everyone.

"Thank you for coming you losers," he shouts over the chatter of the crowd, receiving a bunch of laughs. "Honestly, I can't think of a better way to spend my eighteenth. Enjoy yourselves, enjoy the night, and if you need me, speak to me now before I get too drunk, otherwise I won't remember anything you say."

With smiles decorating everyone's faces, there's another roar of laughter before the music is once again turned up to a deafening volume and the party resumes in full flow. We – River, Lea, Ky, Jake and I – find ourselves meshed into a small circle as all around continue to dance. River, Jake and Ky continue to chat together, laughing about something that happened at his last birthday party. Lea, whose hand is also intertwined with River's, turns to me.

"Hey," she calls with a sweet smile. "Hope you're well?"

"Yes, thank you. Thanks, so much for your help the other day," I smile back, pushing back the embarrassing memory of me fainting at Jake's boxing match.

Lea has always been so lovely, it's the one thing I remember about her, you knew she was a kind girl from the get-go. I've found that it's hard to come across that type of person, so if have, cherish it.

"No biggie, I'm glad you're better," she waves her hand as if her help was no big deal. "Are you coming to school on Monday?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," I laugh, half meaning it.

"I know what you mean, but hopefully we'll help each other survive this year," her words feel like cold water on a burn, soothing in the simplest way.

We're hardly acquaintances, and maybe she knows about River and I's history, so to hear those words from her, as simple as they are, mean so much. Maybe I'm reading deeper into it than I should, but as someone who feels like a complete stranger to this town that once felt like home, her sweet smile feels welcoming. A warm feeling flourishes in my chest towards her. Hopefully, she can become more than just an acquaintance, potentially even a good friend. God knows I need one.

***

After a brief conversation with the boys and Lea, Jake pulls me away from them and without explanation, takes me upstairs. Our hands are moulded together. We make our way to what I remember was his bedroom, he shuts the door behind us. His bedside lamps give an ambient lighting to the room, filling it with an air of romance.

I can only imagine how many girls he's brought up here.

Don't' think about that.

"I'm sorry to take you away from the party," he begins, drawing me closer to him. "But I need to talk to you."

The softness of his tone pieced with his intense demeanour, a contrast to the jokey smile he wore downstairs just minutes ago makes my heart jolt. All I can do is nod for him to continue.

"I need you to answer me honestly," to which I nod again.

"Do you trust me?"

My brows furrow to what sounds like a stupid question, given that the answer, at least to me, seems dumbly obvious.

He senses the confusion, "I need to know, honestly."

"Of course, isn't it obvious?"

"Flo, I mean," he stops himself abruptly, figuring a way to word what he says next.

"I mean, do you trust me, as a man,"

Oh, shit. Is that what he's worried about?

I wish that I could explain to him that I haven't let another man touch me in the last two years, apart from hugging Aiden a few weeks back. That I haven't been able to be intimate, or want to be intimate with another man, ever since what happened with Jason and me. Yet, if only he knew how his hands on my skin feel like home. How his kisses awaken a happiness in me that feels almost surreal because I haven't felt it in so long. To me, his hands are a safe haven, his hugs a trusting embrace and his presence an army in my defence.

"Jake, I trust you, in every sense of the meaning,"

His eyes search mine for confirmation of what I've said. After moments of silence, they avert to the floor between us.

"I have something to tell, but first you need to tell me something," he pulls me closer to the bed, guiding me to take a seat beside him.

"You stopped yourself from saying something downstairs, when River left, if you truly trust me, please tell me what it is,"

My eyes clasp shut for a few seconds too long, and I take a deep breath before answering him.

"When I...kissed River, you were angry, I couldn't get through to you, you didn't want to talk," the words are hard to say, but I push them out regardless.

"I know, I was stupid,"

"You weren't, you were angry, it's understandable,"

"I should've talked it out with you,"

"Should've, could've, would've," I shrug. "We all could've done something different, right?"

A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

"Right,"

"So, downstairs, when you saw River and I together, I couldn't help but think that...that memory might still annoy you," I finally force out, anticipating a response.

He starts to shake his head, the smile broadening a moment before fading entirely, as if he's remembered a painful memory.

"You know when you left, and I hadn't spoken to you in weeks, when I couldn't get through to you at all, I realised that I probably lost you forever," his eyes divert from mine to stare at his lap, head dropping as he recalls further. "I spent months pretending I was okay to everyone, but I literally felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. You were gone, the last memory I had of you was shouting down at you through the phone when you tried to apologise. Had I known...had I just given you a chance to speak..." He releases a heavy sigh through pursed lips.

The vivid memory sometimes keeps me up at night. Calling and calling him to only receive no response. Showing up to his house for his mother to tell me he isn't in. I kissed River that one night at that stupid party because I was drunk beyond my wits, and utterly lonely. I wanted to feel something, anything, other than the filth that I thought I was. Jake walked right in, saw River and I, and walked straight back out. River ran after him, only for Jake to angrily shrug him off and leave. That was the last time I saw him before I left.

The one time he did answer my calls after that was to shout down the phone, tell me how everything that we'd built together was destroyed. All my fault. All my fault. All my fucking fault.

Jake and I weren't together. We'd never expressed our emotions to each other, which, in hindsight, was disastrously cowardly. Yet, there was an unspoken bond, we knew undoubtedly how one felt about the other, though it was never said. Although what I did was technically not cheating, we both felt like it was, and it cut deep like that.

Sensing the tension built up in his body, I outstretch my hand to hold his. As if the tension is transferred between us, I see his body visibly relax.

"I'll be honest, the way I cope with you being gone was to hate you. I almost believed myself, I believed that I hated you, and that's why I treated you horribly the first few times we saw each other. But I realised very quickly –" he glances up at me with a serious look in his eyes, "–that I could never, ever hate you. Any annoyance, any hatred, any resentment towards you, towards what happened, it was stupid to begin with, but it's all gone."

He lifts his hand to stroke my cheek, giving me a weak smile.

"You had every reason to hate me, I'm sorry I gave you those reasons,"

"I'm sorry too,"

My lips reshape into a smile, heavy with the past that's weighed us both down for years. The smile speaks volumes, it tells him that all is forgiven. In return, his proceeding smile does the same.

Then, his phone rings against his jean pocket. Annoyed that it's disrupted our serene moment, he sighs before answering. Listening to what sounds like a hurried voice on the other end, his face slowly drops.

He gets up, letting go of my hand, and moves towards his bed side table. Opening the cupboard, he reveals a safe that only clicks open to his thumbprint. Something tells me to look away, but I keep looking, and to my astonishment, I see wads of cash stacked atop each other. Though what he reaches inside to get isn't cash.

It's a gun. 

***

Hello *waves*

Consistency in writing has always been a feat for me. I apologise for that, but I also need time for my life outside of Wattpad. For that reason, I've decided that I need to address the issue properly, so that I can be productive on Wattpad again. I'm thinking of making an upload schedule. It will most likely be every three weeks, on a weekend (either Saturday or Sunday). The reason it isn't weekly like other authors is because my brain doesn't work like that. If I'm writing, I need to sit on an idea for a while, re-writing different versions, before releasing something. Three weeks is something more realistic for me, and it's definitely a better option than once yearly. Am I right?

What do you think? 

Thank you so much for reading, and as always, stay beautiful.

Indie xoxo