The week passed uneventfully, routine had resumed and I spent most days the same way. The Silent Boys drove me to school where I hung out with Mina and her friends then I came home and spent the evening with either the boys or Ben. It was nice to have a set routine that I could rely on because life with my mom had always been so unstable but some small part of me missed that wild life. I missed the thrill of constantly moving that always seemed to open the door to endless possibilities. At least that's what mom convinced me it did.

***

"What's the scowl for?" Mom probed as she lay along the door frame between the bathroom and bedroom in our hotel room.

"I don't want to move," I glowered at her half packed suitcase lying at the foot of the bed. She hadn't said we were moving, she didn't need to. We'd been in the same place for over two months now and I could feel her need to move on.

Mom's need to constantly be moving was like an itch. She could hold back from scratching it for so long but always relented to the need again. She had to itch the itch.

"Don't you like moving?" Mom sighed dramatically as she twirled a strand of her silky hair around her finger.

"I like it here," I whined, "I like our neighbours and the other people here. I like our room and I have friends here now. I don't want to go."

"You'll make friends at the next place," mom dismissed, that only made my anger grow. Why wouldn't she take me seriously?

"I said I don't want to go," I insisted steadily raising my voice to a growl.

"Cara," mom fixed me with her most withering look that could make grown men quake.

"It's not fair," I threw my hands up but I knew I sounded like a whiny child.

"Life's not fair," mom told me bluntly as she retreated back into the bathroom. I heard the tap running before the rustling of a towel.

"When are we going?" I asked already resigned to failure. Mom would win the argument every time, just like she won everything. I knew I shouldn't have bothered to fight her in the first place.

"On Friday," mom returned to the room still patting her face dry with a towel as she sat in front of the vanity. She regarded me in the mirror and our eyes fixed on each other in the reflections on the glass.

"I really don't want to," I whispered sadly in my last futile attempt to make her listen.

"But moving on is like opening another door," moms lips parted in her winning smile, "you're welcoming in the endless possibilities of a new place. Don't you find that exciting?" I knew she was manipulating me like she always did but I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe her fantasies as much as she did because she found so much comfort in them and I wanted that too.

"I guess," I shrugged not wanting to let her get the upper hand.

"You'll see," mom nodded knowingly, "when we move on you'll remember what an opportunity it is. One day you'll understand Cara, I know it."

"What if I don't?" I murmured. What if I wasn't like her? I wasn't beautiful or talented or adored or feared. What if I never understood her? Where would that leave us then?

"You will," mom nodded confidently, my worries were already swept aside as she began moisturising her face. The conversation would be out of her mind within half an hour. But it wouldn't leave mine just as quickly.

***

"Cara are you alright?"

Of course Mitch would notice if there was something off about me, he seemed to have this sixth sense about everyone in the group that allowed him to know exactly how we all were feeling. It was comforting but at the same time felt invasive which was stupid because I was overthinking something that probably didn't even exist.

"Just thinking about things," I shrugged forcing my face to remain impassive.

We were all lying on my bedroom floor doing various bits of homework, mine was English, while music played softly in the background.

"Care to enlighten us?" Mitch persisted always wanting to know more.

"Just about how you all leave me every evening," I huffed, they all knew I was lying but I hoped they rose to the bait.

"Leave you?" Sure enough it was Nico who caught it allowing me to deflect Mitch's questioning eyes.

"When you all go off to play football or swim or play piano and the various other activities you like," I persisted, I really didn't care that much because it was in those times I got to hang out with Ben and get updates on his budding romance with Pietro. It was simply the first excuse that came to mind.

"You can join if you want?" Grey teased his eyes alight as usual.

"Yeah I'm a great football player," I rolled my eyes, "I have just the right build for it."

"I could teach you," Mitch volunteered eagerly.

"Good luck with that," I chuckled.

The subject was dropped and I didn't pay any thought to the conversation. I was too enthralled by the CD Sawyer slid under my door that night. It was full of the most beautiful classical music that I found myself entranced by (not that I would ever admit that to Sawyer). I fell asleep listening to it almost every single night. Sawyer had been right, it was romantic and peaceful yet fierce and tense at the same time. Listening to it always left my heart beating a little faster.

That was why I couldn't have been more surprised when I was awoken at an ungodly hour on Saturday morning.

"Rise and shine Sunshine," Mitch's cheery voice called out rudely waking me from the deep sleep I'd been enjoying.

"What do you want?" I grumbled pulling the sheets up even higher over my face.

"I'm about to give you the greatest gift of your life," Mitch declared proudly.

"Unless that includes a lifetime pizza discount and tickets to Bora Bora save your breath," I instructed.

"Sorry not that," Mitch barely held in his laugh, then he announced in the most overexcited voice, "I'm giving you a football lesson!"

I opened one bleary eye to stare at him, he looked so pumped and he already had his football shirt on and the biggest grin on his face.

"I thought you said it would be the greatest gift of my life?"

"It is."

"Tossing a ball of air around in the cold at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning doesn't exactly even like a gift," I pointed out but I already knew I'd be doing whatever he suggested because who could resist that smile?

"Come on," Mitch yanked my sheets off me and I let out a cry like I'd just lost my hand as the protective warmth of the sheets was ripped from me. I groaned in complaint but Mitch was having none of it, "the world doesn't wait for Cara Collins."

"I never asked it to," I retorted rubbing my sleep clogged eyes as I reluctantly sat up.

"Get changed," Mitch ordered waving his finger in the air at me, "and then I am going to change your life."

"I'll believe it when I see it," ever the pessimist.

Despite that, twenty minutes later I was stood on Kings Bridge's immaculate lawns in one of the very few sporty outfits I owned with Mitch who was acting like a five year old who's eaten too much sugar, and scowling so deeply I was sure I'd make permanent lines on my forehead.

The sun was starting to rise and it was bathing Kings Bridge's grey bricks in an ethereal glow as well as shining off Mitch's dark brown hair. The grass was still slightly damp with dew and seemed to crunch under our feet. The crisp breeze showed winter was well on its way.

"You could at least pretend you want to be here," Mitch teased. He knew my annoyance was all for show.

"Whoo, go team!" I clapped my hands like a cheerleader but my dark expression couldn't have been less cheery. That at least made Mitch laugh though and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep myself from smiling too.

"How about we practise just passing the ball first," Mitch suggested which I nodded at. I hated to admit it but I knew absolutely nothing about how to play and all my years of faking doctors notes to get out of PE hadn't prepared me well for this moment.

Just as expected, I was awful. I just couldn't work out how Mitch threw the ball so far, all my throws just landed pitifully a couple of feet away from me.

"I'm terrible," I threw my hands up in irritation after my tenth attempt fell flat barely five meters from me, again.

"You just need practise," Mitch encouraged, I'm sure he saw it as his own personal mission in life to make sure I didn't get discouraged. "Your technique isn't great either. Let me help."

He came up right behind me so he was just a hairs width away from touching me and placed both hands on my hips. I forced myself not to react and act normal. He used his hands to swivel my hips back and forward in a sideways motion.

"Stand with your legs a little wider," he instructed and I obeyed which instantly made my stance more secure. "Now practise using the momentum of your body to swing forward as you push the ball out." He moved my hips from the back to the front again, illustrating what I needed to do.

I found myself nodding but in reality I wasn't listening to anything he said, all my focus was on my hips and the individual pressure I could feel from each of his fingers and how that made my skin feel on fire.

All too soon for my liking he let go to allow me to do the move by myself. I tried the technique he'd showed and the ball did actually go a little further. I felt myself smirking in satisfaction even though it was a small victory.

"I did it," I grinned, then remembered I was pretending to be grumpy so remastered my face into a scowl before grumbling, "I guess that was alright."

Mitch was shaking his head and laughing at me, "you're mental," he stated factually.

"Tell me something I don't know," I couldn't help but smirk back.

"Don't get too cocky yet, you still need to work on your movement. Your upper body needs to swing around more." This time Mitch placed his hands just above my hips, on my waist and twisted me to show me the moment I wanted to create. But again all my focus was on the way his huge warm hands were wrapped around my waist and his body behind mine.

"Okay I've got it," I fought to keep my speech steady and the blush out of my cheeks.

I recreated the movement Mitch had been showing and to my surprise and delight the ball went shooting forwards further than any time before.

"See," Mitch's eyes sparkled, "you can do it!"

"Did you see how far that went?" I gloated with glee.

"Now you're happy are you?" Mitch taunted.

"Very happy," I smiled with no trace of sarcasm in my voice because I was.

"Do you want to try tackling next then?" Mitch asked with a cheeky grin and when my face twisted in horror he burst out laughing.

"Idiot," I shoved him lightly knowing my pathetic push would have no effect on his 6ft3 wall of muscle. I only had the effect of making him laugh harder.

"Come on you can do better than that," he taunted opening his arms wide to make himself a better target.

"I can't tackle you," I eyed him warily, I'm sure if I ran into him I'd come out a whole lot worse than he did.

"Next lesson," Mitch decided.

"There's going to be a next lesson?"

Mitch sniggered at my terrified expression, "of course, I haven't even taught you the rules yet."

"What more rules do you need?" I threw my hands up in complaint as we fell into step on our way back towards school.

"You can't just throw the ball for 60 minutes," Mitch rolled his eyes.

"That's exactly what they do," I insisted.

"There's no getting out of it," Mitch smirked gleefully, "next week I'm teaching you tackling. I won't be satisfied until you're a professional level American Football player."

I threw my head back dramatically and then fixed Mitch with my piercing eyes, "if I die on a football pitch I will never forgive you."

Mitch laughed quietly the whole way back to the school buildings.