Scars Of The Past || Jerrie

Sixteen

Jade

I tossed a tennis ball down the beach as I walked, sending Hatchi tearing after it. Jackson stayed by my side, never as interested in balls as in the people who threw them. Perrie walked at my other side, so close that her body warmed mime in the early morning fog.

We'd barely spoken that morning. She never insisted on filling silence with words, which was a good thing. Lately I found it hard to know what to say when we were together. Though she fulfilled me in a way I never imagined another person could, she also caused a great deal of confusion. I was conquering an old fear without a glimmer of hesitation—this was the beach where Jackson was stung by the bee—but at the same time I was growing more afraid of the feelings Perrie stirred inside me.

"You okay?"

I startled despite the gentleness of Perrie's voice. "Yeah. Just thinking."

She smiled. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Tell her that I couldn't stop thinking about seeing her with Leigh-Anne? I shook my head. "No."

"Okay. I'll leave you to it, then." Hatchi trotted up to her and dropped his ball into her hand, and she threw it for him.

I watched Perrie laugh as Hatchi sprinted after his toy, and my stomach clenched. I dropped my gaze to the sand, unbalanced by my visceral reaction to the joy on her face. Why did she sometimes make my heart race like this? I wanted to chalk it up to nerves over even this social contact, but I knew that wasn't it. There was nothing scary about Perrie Edwards.

Except the way she was making me question everything I thought I knew about who I found attractive and how I saw our friendship.

I wanted to ask her if she and Leigh-Anne were together. When she spoke about Leigh-Anne, it sounded like they were just friends. But was it normal for friends to cuddle the way the two of them had? I let myself imagine a friendly embrace with Perrie and shivered. Not because such contact sounded strange, but because it didn't.

I sneaked another glance at Perrie's hair, blowing into her face. She pushed the locks aside and soldiered on, also looking deep in thought. I was so grateful that she would just allow me to think and not push to know what was on my mind. She appeared happy to be let in, but she always waited until I came to her. I loved this rare quality about her.

She probably never had to wait for Leigh-Anne. I envied their easy intimacy, which had been obvious the moment I opened the gate to the backyard. I recalled how she had looked when she realized I was watching. She had jumped up like a teenager caught making out by her parents. Had Perrie kissed Leigh-Anne that day?

The thought slowed me down a step, and I stumbled slightly on my weaker leg. Before she could react, I made myself keep walking, not trusting myself to explain what was wrong. Sweat beaded on my forehead, though the morning breeze remained cool. I thought about kissing Perrie, really kissing her, expecting a wave of revulsion. Instead I belly turned over slightly, sending a rush of pleasant warmth straight between my legs. A tug of arousal, almost like a memory. Something I hadn't felt in at least two years.

I stopped, kicking up a spray of pebbles. I knew what would happen even before it started. My throat tightened. Sweat trickled down my sides, and my heart pounded explosively. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as one thought raced through my mind. Please don't let Perrie see me like this.

At once I was back in that filthy apartment in Al Hillah, tied to a chair in a windowless room. Sam's blood still tacky on the tile beneath my feet. Staring down the same video camera that had recorded his beheading. Powerless. Afraid.