1.2 | Breakup Formula | ONGOING

03 | mistake

0 3

m i s t a k e

The moment after I had comforted Joey was both uncomfortable and awkward. And as I stood outside the bathroom waiting for him to dry himself off, it eventually dawned on me that I had just hugged a complete stranger. Yet, somehow, that felt completely natural.

Joey eventually emerged from the bathroom and I glanced up at him cautiously. "Alright there?"

He shrugged. "Been better."

I shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and he eventually cleared his throat. "I, uh," he started, hesitantly, avoiding my gaze, "I think you should go."

I quickly nodded. "Okay." I followed him downstairs, and refused when he offered me a ride home. "I don't live that far away. I'll just take the bus." He still looked rather hesitant, and I hastened to assure him, "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I'll see you around then."

Nodding, I bade him a quick goodbye and was just past the threshold of the door when his voice stopped me.

"Kira - I," his shoulders were tensed, but his eyes were soft, unguarded. "Thanks."

Something in me tugged, and I found myself turning back to him. "Give me your phone," I said, my palm outstretched and lifted towards him.

His eyebrows shot up, but he dug around in the pocket of his trousers all the same, before fishing out a sleek white cell. He pushed it into my hand, our fingertips brushing briefly. Studying the phone, I tentatively pressed the button at the bottom, and the screen lighted up.

A picture of Joey and a brunette came into view. She was a vision of beauty, her eyes practically sparkled, her lips full and shaped in a perfect cupid's bow. His arm was draped around her; they seemed utterly blissful. I knew, without asking, that she was the infamous Fiona, the one whom Joey held in so high regard, the one whom Declan and Eloise recognised had ruined his life.

When I was done entering my cell phone number into his contact list, I passed the phone back to him. "Don't prank call me," I warned, light-heartedly, a teasing smile on my face. "And only call if you're a) dying or b) not being an arse."

He nodded silently as he pocketed his phone, and I watched him for a moment or two before doing something that completely surprised the both of us. Winding my arms around him, I pulled him into a hug, my action closing the gap between us.

"You're going to be alright," I told him, my words muffled against his chest.

He kept silent, but I felt his palms slide up to rest against the small of my back, his soft, unsteady breaths against my hair as he pulled me tighter against his chest.

I let him hold me for a moment before pulling back. "You're going to be fine," I repeated. "I promise."

Letting my words linger in the still air, I left, feeling the heavy, intent gaze of his eyes boring two holes into my back until I passed the driveway.

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The sound of my cell vibrating against the hard wood of my desk woke me up midway through the following night. Stifling a groan, I reached for my phone and pressed it to my ear, but the other person spoke before I could.