Blindly Yours

00 | Prologue

"You don't seem very excited," Riley hums, glancing at me from across the table.

She's slouched back in the kitchen chair, thick brown hair stopping just above her shoulders. Her eyes narrow, a jokey expression plastered on her face.

"I'm sorry," I sigh, nose scrunching up slightly, "I really don't want to see your psycho brother."

And it's true - I really, really don't.

I haven't seen Nolan Winters since he left for college six years ago.

I'd always hoped that would be the last of him, with him being Riley's brother it's not like I thought he'd disappear forever, but I've been very content with that name being something mentioned occasionally.

I don't miss living next door to him, when I couldn't take two steps into that house without hearing his voice.

I'm now being bombarded with the news he's moving home.

"Oh come on, he's not psycho!" Riley insists, rolling her eyes, but there's not much conviction in her voice.

"You do remember when I was thirteen and he climbed through my window in the middle of the night, right?"I shoot back, the memory drifting through my head.

He was fucked out of his mind, very confused and insistent my room was his own.

It gave me a fucking heart attack, at first because I thought a random stranger had clambered their way into my house, then again when I realised it was Nolan.

I can still see his drowsy smile as he stared at me, nearly tripping over a pile of clothes.

"Oh, trust me, I remember," She winces but a smile still lines her lips, "He only did that to you once, how many times do you think he appeared at the foot of my bed?"

"What was he even doing?" I frown, the details of his late night escapades always pretty murky.

"Fuck knows," Riley mutters, "I'd be surprised if anyone knew anything my brother did from ages ten to eighteen."

It's always seemed that way with Nolan, like he's his own entity not connected to anything else.

His parents struggled to get him to do anything he didn't want to in childhood which eventually became him doing whatever the fuck he wanted as a teenager.

That also meant he was often stoned or drunk or smoking something. Not that he was any better sober.

"So you get why I'm not exactly over the moon to see him?" I say after a moment, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

Riley's face softens, a more serious look coating the brown of her eyes.

"The last time you saw him he was leaving for college and still a dumb asshole, he's better now, more normal, I promise."

I doubt that.

I can feel my face scrunching into an unconvinced expression, my mind flashing images of Nolan across my eyes.

I haven't thought about him properly for years, happy to lock up those memories and throw away the key.

But it seems all it takes is a single mention of his name for things to come crawling back, I can see his smirk, his shiny eyes, the sound of his voice.

Riley can sense my skepticism and leans forward, slotting the cold olive skin of her hands into mine, "Trust me, he's basically a different person."

I blink, "Does he still walk around with mysterious black eyes?"

That was his other issue. Fights.Whoever it was he hung around got him involved in some messy shit, other people's conflicts that probably had nothing to do with him.

More often than not he had a new, unexplainable cut or bruise down the side of his arm.

People stopped asking where they came from because he would never say.

"No, no," She sighs, a flood of relief on her face, "Not anymore, not ever again I hope."

I nod, that idea very hard to comprehend.

Maybe he is different? I never knew what to make of him fully.

Part of me hated him, the stress he caused his own family and the way he'd suffocate the room with his presence.

But part of me was fascinated by the shit he could get away with, whatever secretive life he was living.

Maybe I was even slightly scared of those black eyes and bloodied lips.

"Does he still wear that stupid lip ring?" I ask, brain flicking through the list of things I remember about him - that shiny silver ring is definitely one of them.

"Unfortunately, he does," Riley is now visibly irritated, "I do manage to get him to take off in front of mom and dad though, which is definitely an improvement."

I was there the day sixteen year old Nolan came home with a pierced lip.

I was stood in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and he stumbled through the back door with a grin across his lips.

I stared at him, then down at his slightly-swollen lip, and said nothing, blinking into the silence.

Whatcha think? He said, smiling even harder,My parents are going to fucking kill me.

Safe to say it did not go down well.

I blink away the faint memory, directing my eyes back at Riley, "Is he actually moving home then? Like to his old room?"

"Jesus no, I think living in the same house with him again would send my parents to an early grave," She remarks, "He's got an apartment in town, not too far away."

Oh. The idea of Nolan being financially stable enough and honestly emotionally mature enough to move out and live on his own is laughable.

It's also extremely embarrassing for me because whilst I'm still trapped in that same childhood bedroom, helping my mom pay her mounting bills, he's actually doing something with his life.

Riley is set to move out soon too, close to putting down a month's advance on an apartment.

This is definitely not how younger me pictured my early twenties.

"Will you come tonight, then?" Riley urges, squeezing my hands tighter, "We can invite the others and make it a hang out thing?"

I hesitate, unsure. I do like the Christmas market, the shiny lights draped across the stalls and the ornaments littering the pathways.

When I was a kid I'd beg my mom to take me to it and spend hours gazing up at the dazzling trees.

But if I go tonight it'll be right after a Friday shift at the cafe, I know I'll be exhausted.

Plus, I'm still not sure how okay I am with seeing Nolan again, even the idea of him being back in my life is a shock to my system.

"Come on, Ava, please," Riley begs upon seeing the doubt in my eyes, "I'll buy you whatever you want from the market, I promise."

Her smile is convincing, that familiar cheeky look gracing her cheeks. It's times like this I see the younger version of her, the small girl I grew up with.

"Ok, fine," I crack, a smile tugging at my own lips, "But you have to get me whatever I want."

"Anything!" She squeals, pulling me in for a disjointed hug across the table.