When Ethan parked the moving truck last night, I had made sure to say thank you, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and jumped out to run to the basement door because being alone with him wasn’t a good idea. When I unlocked the door, I waved, and he got into his brother’s truck. I watched the red taillights disappear.
And now here I was, standing in the middle of the basement at five in the morning since I couldn’t sleep and decided to make some coffee.
Everything looked the same. For the most part.
There was a small kitchenette, but with updated stainless-steel appliances and a new, small kitchen island that was more of a small square chopping block with storage underneath. The carpet had been removed and replaced with hardwood, and the old floral pattern couch had been exchanged for a leather sectional and a large flat screen tv. I’d bet anything it was for dad to watch his football games.
But the one thing that hadn’t changed at all, not even a little bit, was my bedroom. While the coffee brewed, I walked into my room again and flipped on the light, the past staring directly in my face. Light pink walls blinded me, along with posters of Zac Efron. My comforter was purple, and my bed frame was silver, adding to the shine and glitter of the girliness of the room. Pictures of me, London, and Oliver lined my dresser, and a photo collage hung on the wall of us too.
With a deep breath, I took a step forward, my foot sinking into the soft carpet, and I sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the gurgle of the coffee pot, and the air kicking on. It would be one of the lasts nights the air was on. Autumn was here, and that meant cold weather and snow.
My pink and purple butterfly lamp was still sitting on the nightstand next to my bed, and I flipped it on, illuminating the spread stained-glass wings. “God, this room needs a makeover,” I mumbled to myself. It was like pink and purple threw up in here. I sighed when I stared at the drawer that held all my secrets, all the things I made myself forget, all the memories I wanted to erase from my mind sat in that drawer, and I wanted to look in it, I really did.
Because then I’d see his face. But then I’d get sad and angry, and I’d cry, and I wouldn’t give Easton Moore any more of my tears. He didn’t deserve them. So I laid back on the bed, ignoring the impulse to open that drawer just like I did in high school and closed my eyes. I took a meditating breath, and when I opened them I almost screamed when my eyes locked onto a shirtless Zac Efron on my ceiling.
Sonofabitch, I forgot that was there.
I covered my mouth and laughed until my belly hurt. Why was he on my ceiling? I was such a weirdo in high school. If I remembered correctly, I stood on my tiptoes on the bed every night and kissed him goodnight.
Zac Efron, my first kiss.
And probably my last.
Ugh, I didn’t want to get into how pathetic I was. Easton had made me close in on myself, and I ended up trusting no guy, and I didn’t give myself a chance too either. They were all a disappointment, and I was better off without them.
Which meant I was a virgin because I had severe trust issues.
With a pitiful groan, I rolled out of bed and shut off the light. This room needed a renovation before I moved in. I refused to be reminded of the past every day while I slept. I lived in Camden now. I was in the past, and the only way to move forward was to change for the better. I closed the door behind me and cursed when I saw another damn poster on the front of my door of Zac.
I had an obsession when I was a teenager; why didn’t anyone tell me? “I’ll deal with you later, Zac. I’m sorry, but it’s time for us to part ways. You’ll understand.” Great. Now I was talking to him as if he were real. Here I was, a teen all over again. I spun on my heel, hastily walked into the kitchen, grabbed a mug from the cabinet, and poured the aromatic java. I brought my nose to the rim and inhaled, feeling better already.
“Shit!” I squeaked when Zac’s face was on the front of my mug. A picture of him from High School Musical. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. You’re freaking everywhere.” I reached into the cabinet and searched for a new mug, any mug that didn’t have his face on it, and my hands wrapped around something oddly shaped.
The handle was bumpy, yet the finish itself was smooth. I pulled it out, and my heart leaped in my throat when I noticed it was the mug Easton made for me when we were twelve. We had signed up for this pottery class, and I ended up getting the chickenpox and couldn’t go to the lesson.
In sloppy letters, it said, ‘Feel better, best friend’. The letters were all different shapes and sizes, and the cup itself was this really ugly green color, but even to this day, no matter how much I hated him, this was my favorite mug.
I placed it in the cabinet and pushed it all the way back so it would never see the light of day again, then grabbed a plain white mug, poured the coffee from my Zac Efron cup into the new one, and tossed Zac into the trash.
“Sorry, but there is just too much of you around right now,” I slammed the lid of the trashcan down and meandered into the living room to plop on the couch. I barely had the first sip when my mom and dad’s voice resounded off the walls upstairs.
“James, she is here! Baby? My sweet Luna, where are you?” My mom called out for me, and I grinned. I might be twenty-five, but I was a momma girl’s through and through.
“She is probably sleeping, Tessa. Good lord, you’ll wake the neighbors with that loud mouth of yours.”
I snorted from dad’s words. He wasn’t wrong.
“Oh, you better watch yourself, James Nightingale. I will withhold sexual favors.”
I spat up a little of my coffee and gagged. Okay, I didn’t need to hear that. My parents didn’t have sex. I was delivered by a stork. It was the only way I was able to be here. The thought kept me sane because who wanted to think of their parents being sexually active?
; Gross.
My mom giggled, “James, stop it. We aren’t alone.”
“Okay, I’m here! You guys can go back to bed and stop… feeling up one another,” I yelled from where I sat, and my mom’s heavy footsteps pounded against the floor as she hurried to me.