Endless Bonds

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

her's been back for one week.

I've given her space, but this won't last forever. I understood her going to France with her mom, needing to deal with her ex-fiancé and making peace with what happened between us. But I won't let her run away from her problems, our problems, anymore.

I didn't chase her two years ago.

But I'll be damned if I don't chase her now.

She messaged me an explanation a week ago:

I nearly typed I love you then but refrained myself. This wasn't the conversation we could have on text. This was her making peace with herself and I needed to give her time. I forgive her because Jesus, I'm to blame for giving the interview myself.

But time was a bitch and I was tired of waiting.

She took two days to fucking answer me.

So I respected that and immersed myself in school and every upcoming test like high-GPA was my middle name. Everyday I spent a few minutes talking to Nat on the phone; she wanted to make sure I was okay, mentally and emotionally. Jared, Oli, and Wyatt hovered around me every chance they got but left me alone when I asked for space. Maybe they thought I was a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any moment. I wasn't. This wasn't like when Rose broke up with me and I hurled a clock against the wall. The months that followed since then helped me grow. I was much calmer this time around, channelling my energy towards the things that mattered such as my friends, family and figuring out my next move academically.

I spent most evenings having dinner with Mom and Darrell. Mom tried to convince me to look into a business or law degree. Darrell said I should stick to sports management, trying to reassuring me that even if I wasn't on the football team, I didn't ever have to lose my love for the game. Sports manager or coaching little leagues could be promising and rewarding careers.

"Young players could benefit from having a football player of your calibre mentoring them. Imagine the kind of impact you could have on these young boys with your coaching," Darrell had said. "You're good with people – you could change someone's life."

I appreciated them showing support because I needed it right now, even if I was too much of a wuss to say it out loud. Didn't matter if I took their opinions; I valued them all the same. I'd give myself one more week to wallow in self-pity, then get my shit straight when it came to my future.

I even got a call from my father – Omero fucking Reynolds – voicing his so-called concern over me getting kicked off the football team. Trying to give me fatherly advice. I didn't tell him that Darrell beat him to it. In fact, forty seconds into the call, I hung up on him.

He didn't deserve a minute of my time. Not when he left Natalie and I in our teen years to go frolic with his new girlfriend after leaving my mom and our house in smithereens. Nat and I didn't even know what our half-sister looked like.

So Omero no longer got to have an opinion on my future.

Because it wasn't valued.

* * *

It's been two weeks since Cher's been back. Tara (yes, that same evil creature who had me convinced the love of my life went to Paris forever to marry her ex-fiancé) has been dropping small updates through text because she fucking owes me big time.

I roll my eyes at that one.

It's a picture of Cher curled up on Tara's couch, wrapped in a blanket with a brownie halfway to her mouth. I see a small peek of her little silk pyjamas and it's enough to have me feeling some type of way.

The last one I responded to way too quickly.

Not that a dildo can replace my fucking skills in bed, but the last thing I need to be thinking about is Cher lying down in her sheets, thighs split, fucking herself to the thought of me when I can be doing the fucking.

By the end of the week, my mind is made up. There's no point in trying to woo her with small acts. They'll fall short. Eventually her resolve to not see me will break, but that can take weeks.

And I don't want to wait weeks to be with her anymore.

She'll give herself more reasons to run away from me.

So I devise one big plan, one final way to rip the band-aid and deal with our issues once and for all. If we are face-to-face she can't avoid me any longer. We can finally move forward and be us. I'm tired of living without her. I don't want it.

She's always been mine. Endgame.

The poem she wrote me is carefully tucked in my desk. But the echo of those words follow me everywhere I go, like a bad ghost you need to exorcise. Only I want those words to stay with me. Forever.

So I write her one too. And she'll hear it soon if I have anything to do about it.

I knock on Jared's bedroom door. He opens after two minutes, running a palm over his buzzed head. He's shirtless and a breathy moan resounds behind him. I'm guessing he has female company, considering he looks like he just fucked the devil (red lipstick is smeared all over his mouth).

"Bro," he grumbles. "I'm busy."

His jeans are undone but thankfully I don't see his junk.

"I need your help." Nor do I care that there's a girl waiting for him inside. Instead, I spend a few minutes explaining to him what I have planned, and how I need his help. Jared smirks like a proud dad, before clapping my shoulder.

"Anything you need, man."

"Thanks, asshat."

Just when I step back into my room, I get a call from Coach Harvey. I pick up on the second ring, my heart pounding furiously.

As he delivers his news, my smile breaks out into a full-blown grin.

I'm back on the team.

* * *

here exactly are we going?" I ask for the third time.

It's Saturday evening and I'm sitting in the backseat of Oliver's car, with Jared riding shotgun. They messaged me last night that they were talking me out for a surprise, to "cheer" me up. Apparently Teagan and Tara weren't free.

None one mentioned Trent.

And I didn't ask.

Truth is that the last two weeks have been great. While I barely spoke to Trent and terribly miss half of my heart, I've been keeping busy with school, my job, my loved ones and journaling. I feel good about myself, like I've finally shed all the dead weight.

Like I've finally let go of all my ghosts.

My ex-stepfather. Paris. Pierre Aguillard.

My report leaking and ruining Trent's future was a harsh pill to swallow; but I did and I acknowledged my mistakes. Trent forgave me, I know. He holds himself accountable too but he's forgiven himself as well. So, slowly with time, I've forgiven myself. I know moving forward to be vigilant, and careful around the people I don't fully trust.

God, I was even reluctant to go back to Starbucks, until Gabe and Tara dragged me by my hair. Apparently, the last demon I had to slay was the presence of a coffee shop. I did so by studying there for two hours and overconsuming my favorite drink.

"A drive-in movie," Oliver quips, taking a sharp left.

Jared snickers. "Yeah. We brought snacks and everything – pretzels and caramel popcorn."

"Oh like Nat's favorite..." I trail off before realizing I'm better off keeping quiet.

Snacks and drive-in movies were kind of their thing.

"Mhm. Yeah. Her favorite." Jared doesn't stiffen at her mention. He only reaches forward to blast – for my sake – Ariana Grande's voice on the radio.

Oliver releases a sharp sigh. "I know I'm going to regret asking this but I'm doing it because Trent isn't around–" Oliver shoots me a look in the rear-view mirror to make sure I'm okay at my ex (soon to be current, if I'm being honest) boyfriend's mention. "–But did something happen between you and Nat at her birthday party?"

"Yeah." Jared sniggers but it's forced. "I beat up a guy because he got too handsy with Natty baby."

"I mean, we all saw that," I chime in.

"No. No. That's not what I meant," Oliver presses on, taking another left. We enter an all-too-familiar path highlighted with tall trees and nowhere near the movie drive-in. Detour, perhaps? "Did something else happen after we finished celebrating at their house? Did you spend the night with her? And don't bullshit me because you know exactly what I'm implying."

Nat's birthday was four months ago. My eyes bulge out of their sockets because holy shit. If Oli means what I think he does... "She's with Myron, guys."

Jared clears his throat. "Exactly. So nothing happened."

"But you did spend the night with her?" Oliver bursts out laughing without humor. "Fuck, Jared. You're screwed."

Jared rolls his eyes and uncaps a bottle of water. "No. I did not spend the night with her. We all hung out, then I went home like everybody else. Nat and I don't talk – you guys know this."

"I mean...You guys are on good terms though, right? She did help nurse your booboos afterwards," I tease, punching Jared's shoulder to lighten the mood.

There's a serious, grave look on his face as he gazes out his window, jaw clenching.

"Why did you have a hickey the size of a fucking baseball on your throat the next morning? Don't lie because I know what I saw," Oliver rasps. "Jared. Please don't tell me you guys did something you shouldn't have."

"I got into a fight at the club. That's what happened. You saw me, Abhay."

"That wasn't a fight bruise. Looked more like you fucked a girl too hard and she sucked on your–"

"– Jesus, Oli!" Jared threw his hands in the air. "I left their house and hooked up with a girl I met at MacGregor's, okay? Nothing more. I'm sorry if seeing a hickey on my neck offended you, asshole."

I freeze in the backseat because...Because Tara and I spotted a similar hickey on Nat's neck, too.

"Just making sure," Oli mumbles. "You know what happens if you ever hop on that bandwagon..."

"I don't tease you about your past with Teagan. How about you don't throw Natalie in my face, yeah?" Jared husks angrily.

"Fine," Oli said as an apology, but the word seemed dragged out of him through gritted teeth.

Suddenly the silence in the car is colored in fifty shades of fucking awkward. I'm so caught up in their banter that I don't pay attention to where we are going, when the car suddenly jerks to a stop.

"We're here," Oli growls. Jared says nothing. Nobody moves.

It's mine and Trent's abandoned field. I gaze at the gorgeous sky, the setting sun painting it in beautiful blue and yellow hues. I step out of the car as if in a trance, my eyes soaking in the beautiful picture.

Half my heart is a mess, as it beats for Trent.

Oliver and Jared don't follow me out. Instead, they scream, "Have fun!" before driving off and leaving me there, gawking after them.

I should be scared, being left alone, but this place is etched inside of me – I know it like the back of my hand. It's filled with late-night memories laced with laughter, sadness and nostalgia. Most of all, it's brimming with the memory of the guy I love.

I spot his G-Wagon parked parallel on the dirt road, canopied by a cluster of trees.

Barely containing my grin, I run along the fence and spot an opening, slipping through until I'm greeted by green grass and wild flowers. There's a silhouette hulking near a willow tree, standing over what looks to be a picnic spread.

I take a few steps closer, confirming the presence of Trenton Reynolds.

We're standing far apart, but I've never felt closer to him than right now in this moment.

Something overcomes me. The need to finally put an end to this distance and just be with him, once and for all.

I run the towards him and he does the same. We lunge for each other at the same time – I smash into him. My arms twine around his neck as my legs wrap around his waist. Trent's strong arms bracket my back, holding me tight to him. Our faces bury in each other's necks. I can finally breathe again. "Trent."

"Cher," he returns tenderly into my neck, shaking like he can't believe I'm finally here. "Surprise, baby."

We fit like a puzzle piece. He's so achingly familiar to me: his masculine cologne, his grey beanie, the cut of his dark brown hair beneath my fingertips, his chiseled jaw as it roves over my collarbone, and his mouth feathering cotton-soft kisses on my throat. He bites the necklace I'm wearing – the one he gave me.

I laugh as he playfully nips the skin of my décolletage. He carries us back under the shadow of the tree. "I've missed you," he murmurs against my skin, the sound pulsing inside of me.

I flush from head to toe.

"I've missed you more."

He drops to his knees on the picnic blanket with me still gathered in his arms.

"Don't ever leave me like that," Trent whispers. His voice is raw and his gaze swirls with all the hurt of our separation. "I love you, hermosa."

A choked sound escapes me at finally hearing the words I've yearned for since I was a little girl. "I love you, too. So much it hurts."

Then everything in our world is perfect when our lips clash together like two waves melding into one. The kiss stems from new love, from new promises, from longing of two people who's time was never right until now.

Trent's mouth is unyielding as it moves against mine, his breath minty and all him. The light stubble on his cheeks grazes my skin as he angles his head, kissing me fiercely like I'm the water he needs after a drought. My hands cup his jaw, giving him tongue and air and everything I'm worth.

He takes it all from me.

He'll give back. He always does.

"I love this dress," he grates into our kiss, his big hands clutching my ass. "Why have I never seen this dress?"

"I got it from Paris." It's cherry red and off the shoulder, with basically a non-existent hemline that I know my boyfriend loves.

"Fuck, I've missed you. Your smile. Your eyes. And these ridiculously tiny dresses."

"I've missed you more," I say as Trent lays me down on the checkered blanket, only to tug my neckline lower so he can take a nipple into his mouth, suckling contently.

"You're going to eat now." He blows cold air against my puckered flesh. "So I can eat you later."

* * *

"You made me a literal cherry cake." It's plain and golden with cherries baked on top. There's a charcuterie board and a sparkling juice bottle as well. "I can't believe it."

"Believe it, baby. Betty Crocker helped and so did Tee. But I promise, I baked it myself like a good boy."

"So basically Teagan did all the preparing and you just put it in the oven."

He glares at me jokingly. "Basically."

Trent proceeds to pry open the bottle of sparkling apple juice. His biceps bulge deliciously and I can't wait to have his arms pin me down as he moves inside me. I've missed him more than he knows.

"You're shaking," he states.

My vagina is. But that's beside the point. "It's a little cold."

"I'll warm you up soon." He smiles cheekily, before handing me a glass filled to the rim.

A companionable silence follows us where we eat quietly and just watch the sky darkening. I'm sitting with my legs under me, and Trent is lying sideways, propped on one forearm. We eat cherries and make knots with our tongues. He wins, claiming to be the better kisser. I roll my eyes. We eat and drink some more, kissing in between because we finally can.

"Thank you for the roses and chocolates you left on our doorstep anonymously," I mumble against his mouth. "My mom says thank you. She's feeling much better."

"I'm happy to hear that," he kisses me again. "I have some good news."

"Tell me." I tug his bottom lip with my teeth and he groans, pulling away and breathing hard.