17. Chapter Seventeen - Shifting Weight
Asoft hum, almost musical, slipped into my dreams, threading through the hazy remnants of thoughts and images clinging to whatever I’d been dreaming about.
It felt natural there, not startling at all.
The sound wrapped around me gently, not pushing, only drawing me closer bit by bit until a voice joined it. Sweet and familiar.
“But I came to life when I first kissed you,” it sang, pulling me toward wakefulness without fully dragging me out of sleep. The words lingered warmly at the edge of my mind, too intimate to feel like some random song drifting through. “The best me has his arms around you…”
I knew the song. Or at least, I felt as though I should. It tugged at something soft inside my chest, but in that foggy space between sleeping and waking, my brain couldn’t quite grab hold of it.
“You make me better than I was before…”
“Thank God I’m yours.”
I shifted beneath the covers, finally cracking one eye open as my phone buzzed somewhere under me, muffled beneath sheets and pillows.
A groan slipped out while I twisted around searching for it.
Once I found it, I blinked blearily at the screen until the brightness dimmed enough for my eyes to stop protesting.
Still half-asleep, I answered and lifted it to my ear.
“’Ello,” I croaked, my voice rough and wrecked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello?”
“You’re still in bed, then?” a voice quipped on the other end. Feminine. Recognizable. It yanked me the rest of the way awake. “Come on, you promised you’d meet us at the park.”
I bolted upright, nearly dropping my phone as the last traces of the dream dissolved.
“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing my face. “Sienna, right?” A pause confirmed it. “Yesterday was… kinda a lot. I totally forgot.”
There was a brief silence before Oliver’s voice burst through somewhere behind her, cheerful and loud, asking about ten questions at once.
I could picture him perfectly without even seeing him.
Constant motion. I was convinced Oliver would physically combust if forced to sit still longer than ten minutes.
Sienna let out a dramatic sigh.
“Whereabouts are you living?”
“Uh…” I glanced around my room as though the walls might magically help. “It’s, like… the third house from the school if you turn right?”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“You mean to say you don’t know your own address?” she asked flatly.
In my defense, I barely knew my own emotional state right now either.
I swallowed. “No?”
Oliver jumped in, instantly defensive. “Come on, she’s only just moved in! How’s she meant to know it already?”
“Oh my God, what are you, five?” Sienna snapped at me.
Then the call ended.
I stared at my phone for a second before tossing it aside and stretching out across the bed.
The movement pulled a long sigh from me.
I didn’t feel energized exactly, just lighter somehow.
As though my body had finally loosened after being wound too tight for too long.
The sort of sleep that actually quieted things instead of simply knocking you unconscious for a few hours.
I rolled onto my side, letting pieces of yesterday drift back through my mind. Culver’s touch. His family. The unsettling warmth beneath all their polished composure. Then the realization that my ma worked for them and that Culver had known about me before we met.
Everything had piled together too quickly, one thing crashing into the next until there’d barely been space left to process any of it.
Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed, padding across the floor with tangled hair and a head still thick with sleep. That’s when I noticed the neatly stacked shopping bags waiting near my door.
Glossy paper untouched. Tissue folded perfectly.
My ma had texted me while I slept, something vague about Culver having them delivered, as though buying someone an entirely new wardrobe required no more thought than sending flowers. Rich people genuinely treated money like Monopoly cash.
I shoved the thought aside and focused on getting dressed instead, pulling one of the outfits from its bag. Casual, but cute in exactly the right way. I adjusted the fit and smoothed the fabric, loving my own sense of style more by the second.
For one embarrassing moment, it almost felt as though he was standing there watching me.
I shook my head sharply. He didn’t owe me kindness. He didn’t owe me anything.
Maybe I needed less sleep deprivation and more therapy.
The doorbell rang suddenly, snapping me out of the spiral. I blinked, realizing I’d been standing in front of the mirror far longer than necessary debating whether my eyeliner looked too heavy or my lip gloss too shiny. Taking a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and headed downstairs.
When I opened the door, Oliver stood there first, all bright smiles and easy warmth.
The sort that made the entire day feel better just by existing.
Sienna hovered behind him, her expression carefully neutral except for the faint crease between her brows.
She didn’t need to say anything for me to know I was still very much on thin ice with her.
Oliver whistled softly, his gaze sweeping over me from my hair down to the outfit I’d pulled straight from Culver’s delivery. His grin widened. “Yeah, I can see why Scarbrough likes you.”
Warmth climbed into my face instantly.
I let out a small awkward laugh, unsure how to respond without exposing myself completely.
“Thanks, Oliver,” I muttered, smoothing a hand over the front of my jacket even though it didn’t need it.
The blush wouldn’t leave, and it wasn’t even the compliment itself getting to me.
It was the implication.
Scarbrough likes you.
Because that wasn’t true. Culver didn’t like me. He was… assigned to me. Circumstances. Obligations. Invisible strings I kept tripping over.
Awesome. Time to pass away expeditiously.
I shifted just in time to catch Sienna shooting me another pointed look, unapologetic and biting.
It dawned on me then that, in her mind, simply being here and participating was already put me in the wrong no matter what I actually did.
Still, I straightened my shoulders and tucked my hair behind my ear, forcing myself to act normal.
“So,” I asked lightly, “what’s the plan?”
She rolled her eyes and turned toward the car. “The park, obviously.”
Sienna spoke as though she were perpetually one inconvenience away from committing a felony.
I slid into the backseat while Oliver launched into conversation, his energy filling the car like sunlight pouring through an open window.
He talked about the weather and how perfect the day was supposed to be: the breeze, the clear skies, and the crisp fall chill that made everything feel alive.
It was hard not to smile when he made things sound so easy to enjoy.
I watched them quietly as we drove. Sienna focused on the road, fingers tapping against the steering wheel while Oliver carried the conversation effortlessly.
Their dynamic was strange in a way I didn’t want to unpack.
He was open and warm. She was a black cat with jealous tendencies.
Whatever existed between them clearly wasn’t my business, and I had enough chaos of my own without getting tangled in someone else’s.
As the city rolled by, I finally took it in properly, letting the narrow streets and mix of old stone and sleek modern glass settle around me.
Buildings stacked like layers of history, time never quite smoothing them out completely.
There was a quiet comfort in it that surprised me because England wasn’t turning out to be the dull, rainy drag I’d imagined back home.
Instead, it felt worn in. Stories pressed into every brick, every stretch of ivy, every scuffed stone step.
Not quite home, but not the empty place I’d braced myself for either.
Eventually, the city thinned into something greener.
The car slowed as we pulled up beside the park, a wide-open stretch framed by tall trees and packed with people enjoying the day.
Kids ran freely across the grass, couples sprawled across picnic blankets, and sunlight skimmed across the lake in bright silver flashes that looked almost unreal.
It was the sort of place that made you want to shut your brain off for a while and just exist.
The doors opened, and I stepped out, drawing in a deep breath of cool air.
This felt much closer to what I needed right now: sunlight, casual noise, people moving around without hidden agendas.
No tense conversations humming beneath every sentence.
No stares pinning me in place as though I was under a microscope.
For once, I just wanted to feel normal again.
“Whoa,” I murmured, squinting slightly as we stepped into the late-morning sun.
The park stretched out before us, rolling green grass still damp with dew, the lake wide and reflective, pulling soft blues and silvers straight from the sky.
I pulled my phone out without thinking, angling it until the light hit just right.
A couple of photos. A boomerang of the trees swaying. One quick selfie.
“This place is unreal,” I added, already slipping into work mode. “Might even be able to film a dance video if the vibe stays like this.”
Oliver glanced over at me while juggling a blanket and a small basket, clearly impressed.
“Do you post on Wiggle?” he asked, trying not to sound too curious.
I laughed softly, still a little groggy but proud. “Yeah, all the time. You have it?”
He gave me a look as though I’d just insulted him.
“Ira,” he said dramatically, “it’s literally the most popular app right now. Of course I have it. So does Sienna.”
“Right, right,” I muttered, flipping my hair with fake embarrassment. “Sorry for being sooo dumb.”
Oliver grinned and slung an arm around my shoulders as we headed toward an open spot near the lake, the breeze slipping through my hair.
“Aww, don’t be mad,” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.