twenty

“so this

was how you died;

in whispers

that you did not

hear.”

I woke up at the shrill sound of an alarm.

Groaning, I did the first thing that came to my head. I flailed my arms around, trying to switch off the alarm, only to slump back when I found nothing but empty air.

Then groggily as I opened my eyes I realized that it couldn't have been my alarm because I never did alarms.

It took me a while to adjust my eyes to the morning sunlight and onto my flashing phone, which was ringing because someone was calling me, and not an alarm. I picked it up and answered the call without thinking twice (which, now that I think about it, could've been anyone).

Placing my phone over my ear, I shut my eyes once again. It was painful to keep my eyes open so early in the morning, even though I had spent most of yesterday sleeping and, well, sleeping.

"Hello?" I planted my face into my pillow, my voice muffling along with it.

"Morning, honey." I couldn't help but groan out loud when I realized it was Mum. Why was she calling so early? "Haven't talked in a while. How's everything going, sweetheart?"

"Mum," I whined. "I was asleep."

"Oh." She sounded like she was trying to hold back a laugh. Tell me what was so funny about ruining a seventeen-year-old's sleep, who also happened to be your daughter?

"Sorry, honey. I keep forgetting about the whole time thing. It just feels like you're here and not countries away, except that I'm talking to you on the phone. But it must not be so early in the morning, is it?"

"Yeah," I grumbled and curled up further under my duvet. "I think it's around noon here, but you know my sleeping schedule, Mum. It's fucked up." For one tiny second, I don't know why, I forgot this was my mother I was talking to.

"Language, Lia!" She sounded surprised, because yes, I never swore in front of my parents. But it didn't take her long to wave it off, probably because she must've thought that it slipped off my tongue. "Your dad's helping me out at the shop today. It would've been a lot more fun if you were here. Mase's missing you a lot too."

"Uh huh." I nodded absentmindedly.

"How's Luce doing?" She asked me. I could hear faint, shuffling noises on her end and I figured she must be wrapping up flowers for her daily customer bouquets. I never really understood the point of Mum working at that shop--a flower one especially--not when we weren't in desperate need of money. But she always told me that this shop was her family thing. Grandma worked there till she died. And like my grandma, Mum loved the shop too.

"Is she at home right now?" Mum asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Actually, no, not really. She's, um, at the apartment." But I'm not.

What was I even saying?

She must've blamed that on my sleep too since she didn't seem to ponder over it too much.

"Never mind." Mum ended up laughing. "I just called to check up on you. Also because Mandy dropped by yesterday. Do you remember her?"

I managed to open my eyes under all the exhaustion, because that name did sound a little familiar. And then my eyes flew across the room over to the other bed where Alastair was still curled up under the sheets, fast asleep.

"No. Who's Mandy?" I asked her, lowering my voice.

Mum was silent for a while. When she spoke up this time, her voice had gone a tad bit lower too.

"Mandy Sinclair, Lia." I recognized the last name pretty easily this time. Noah's mum, who also happened to be on speaking terms with my mother; a regular customer at the shop. "She came by to catch up on old times. It was nice."

"Oh," I murmured, a little too awake now, though I didn't know why. "And what has any of that got to do with me?"

"No, no, Andy, not there. Just place it on the counter." It took me a minute to realize that she wasn't talking to me, but to Andy--the guy who helped Mum at the shop sometimes. "Sorry, Ophelia. What were you saying?"

I inhaled a deep breath.

"About Mandy Sinclair. Why were you telling me about her?" I asked. "Also, Mum, just...don't call me Ophelia. Remember, we talked about it?"

If there was one person who did not like calling me Lia, other than Alastair as I've come to known, was my mum. She had been the one to name me that after all.

"Right, I remember." She didn't sound too happy, though. "Which I never really understood since your name's such a beautiful one--"

"Mum." I stretched out her name in an evident whine, careful not to be too loud. "About your friend Mandy?"

"Okay. Okay," she spoke up. "Well, she wanted to know how you were doing and you know, why you and Noah have drifted apart?"

I could not believe what I was hearing.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I asked her in a surprised whisper.

"Lia, what is up with your language?" She sounded pretty angry this time. "Young lady, if I hear you swearing one more time, I'm going to make sure you never say any foul word ever again, even if you're in Antarctica right now."

I laughed, I don't really know why. And when I realized that that was probably the worst thing I could've done right after swearing, I tried to muffle it with my pillow.

"Sorry, Mum, I'm sorry. I was just surprised."

"That is no way to show your surprise!" She sounded disappointed in a way that was so Mum.

"I know. I'm sorry." I repeated, though I had bigger matters to talk about. "So, about...Mandy, what did you say to her?"

She took her time to reply. "I, well, what was I supposed to say? I still don't get why you two drifted apart. I guess you grew out of your little crush on him?"

That might've been the worst thing she could've said.

"I never liked him like that, Mum." And even saying that made me feel a little sick. "And...it's not that much of a big deal."

"What? Why?" She sounded curious and worried, both. "Did something happen?"

A lot happened, Mum. A lot.

"No. Everything's fine." I sighed. "Just...tell Mandy, or anyone who ever asks you why we drifted apart, to mind their own fucking business."

Mum wasn't really what I would call happy, when I said that. And not even because I had just dismissed the whole Noah topic, but mainly because I had, you guessed it right, slipped out another curse word. Thrice during the phone call.

Mum was pissed.

When she ended the call, satisfied that I will never swear in my life ever again, I blew out a  tired sigh and finally decided to get up, especially since I knew I wouldn't be getting any sleep now.

I kept sitting there on the bed, wondering what could possibly be so exciting to get out of this bed for. A warm shower sounded nice in this cold cold room.

Since I didn't want to wake Alastair up, I headed for the bathroom and decided that I'd just wait for him to wake up himself. I wasn't really sure what kind of a hangover he'd be having once he woke up. Not an easy one judging from the way he'd been last night.

Maybe he might be used to it, and as much as that thought concerned me, I realized I couldn't do much about it.

I just hoped he didn't remember last night. I didn't want any more complications than we already seemed to be having after just that one kiss.

Once I was done taking a shower, I shrugged on a pale yellow sweater and a pair of jeans. Alastair was still fast asleep by the time I left the bathroom. The only difference I could've noticed was that he had somehow further dunked himself under the duvet, and now looked like a lumpy mess on the bed.

I couldn't help but grin a little when I noticed that just his bed head was visible, and not even his face.

I could've stayed there and waited for him to wake up, but instead, I slipped on my sneakers, knowing that I didn't have anything better to do other than surfing through my phone--which I was not exactly looking forward to, not after Mum's call.

I headed outside, closing the door behind me as softly as I could have and ventured across the hotel hallways. Everything seemed silent until I stepped out of the hotel confinements and was walking on the busy streets of Knightsridge. Out here, it was much livelier and distracting than my miserable thoughts.

I found myself taking a stroll across town, trying to stay as close as I could to the hotel. I didn't really get to see much, but I did come across a small farmer's market, and everyone there was so nice and polite, which was surprising since I hated marketplaces back in my hometown.

Here the weather was nice, cold but nice, and everything was just...calm and peaceful. I even managed to get a cup of black coffee for Alastair and some freshly made apple juice for myself.

As I made my way back to the hotel, I realized that I honestly would take this town anytime over my hometown. Sadly, I just had three days here, including today. But hey, we don't always get what we want, do we?

I held the small drink carrier in my hands with both of the cups in it as I walked back to the hotel building. Somehow, not surprisingly, I lost my sense of direction and ended up in a street behind the hotel complex. Fortunately, as I mentioned earlier, people in this town were nice enough to help me out, so it took me just a few more minutes to find my way back to the hotel.

Alastair was awake by the time I threw open the door and stepped inside our room, looking as rumpled as his hair. He looked hungover, all right.

"Look who's finally up." I smiled at him before closing the door with my foot, not really missing his wince when it closed shut a bit too loudly. A bad hangover, I told myself. "Sorry."

"Where did you go?" He asked in a small, raspy voice.

I raised the cups in my hands and he only frowned in response.

"Quick question," I spoke up since I was in the mood for conversation and he didn't look like he was. "How do you even drink this on a daily basis?" I asked him. "Does this not taste funny to you?"

He squinted at me, his hands on either side of him before flopping back down on the bed.

"You look too bright right now," he complained. "Can you shut off the colors, maybe?"

I gave him a look of disbelief, which he probably didn't notice since he was staring up at the ceiling.

"How in the hell do you shut off colors?"

"Take off your hoodie." He told me. I wasn't wearing a hoodie. "It's hurting my eyes."

I passed him a concerned look, despite the fact that my neck flushed when he said that. "How about...no? I like my colors just as they are."

He groaned in response.

Then I walked off to the kitchen and placed the drink carrier on the small marble counter. I was taking off my shoes and somewhere in between I heard Alastair groaning again before murmuring a small, "Ophelia?"

I sighed heavily like I had when Mum called me that this morning. "Yes?"

"Head's aching really bad."

I picked up the two cups again and walked towards his bed. "Should've thought about that when you were drinking...what was it? Yeah, tequila."

The wounded look he passed me made it hard for me to not crack up.

"Just kidding." I stopped my laugh short and carefully sat down at one end of his bed. "I brought you some black coffee with no sugar."

"Got it the first time." He let out a small wince and sat up again. Everything about him was tense, especially his shoulders. I wished he'd relax just a little.

Taking the cup from my hands, he wrapped his hands around it, and I settled my back against the wall.

"I thought it might help." I nudged my head towards the coffee. "Though I don't know for sure since I've never really had a hangover before."

He seemed to momentarily forget about his pounding headache and whatever that you feel after a night of tequila.

"You've never been drunk before." It was hilariously amazing that he didn't even care to make it sound like a question.

I found it hard to keep the smile off my face, not when he looked like that. Utterly messed up and regretting his life choices (last night ones in particular).

"Do I look like I've been drunk before?" I asked.

He scrunched up his forehead and looked down at the cup in his hands. Despite all that, he looked less pale than last night. "Why haven't you?"

That was a pretty stupid question in my opinion, but I wasn't really judging him right now--not in all his messed-up glory. Not like I ever judged him.

"It has a bad taste." I shrugged. "Why would you wanna drink something that has a bad taste?"

He looked at me. He looked at me for a really long time.

"I don't know if you're talking about my coffee or alcohol in general."

I smiled. "Both."

He managed to give me a small smile back but it looked more like a grimace. I sighed then. "Does this happen every time you get drunk?"

He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip of the coffee. My eyes traced the movement of his throat as he swallowed, slowly trailing back up to his face.

"Yeah." He murmured. "The pills I have to take don't usually go well along with...alcohol."

Hence the bad hangover, I thought.

"Why do you do it then?" I asked him, and the concern in my voice must've been obvious since his eyes found mine, the grey in them darkening just a little.

"I thought that's how addictions work."

I sighed again (I was sighing a lot today) and looked away, fidgeting with my own cup. "Do you want some apple juice?"

The frown he gave me was more adorable than concerning, and I really needed to get a grip on myself.

"It's gonna fuck with my head even more." He murmured and a small laugh escaped my lips.

"Whatever," I said, shaking my head. "We need to work a little on your choice of drinks."

We didn't really talk about last night or whatever that had happened when he was drunk. I think he didn't remember, and even if he did, like me, he didn't say anything about it. All that was fine with me.

As long as we pretend that everything was fine, it was. That's what I kept telling myself.

Later that day, I was miserably trying to look for ways to not get on my phone--mainly because I knew I'd end up scrolling through my text conversation with Steph one way or another--when Alastair suggested that we get out of the hotel.

I grabbed my polaroid camera at the very last second, and not my phone, as I rushed outside, following Alastair. By the time I caught up to him, he was waiting by the car for me.

"I forgot this." I tried to catch my breath as I stopped by the car, holding up my jacket. "And this." I held up the camera in my other hand, gesturing at it.

"I didn't know you were into photography." He stepped towards me, holding out his hand. I blinked at him, up at him, confused as to why he was holding out his hand.

"I...uh," I trailed off, eyeing his hand. "I'm not."

When I kept standing there cluelessly, he reached forward and took my jacket from my hands. "Then what is the camera for?" He was smiling now, holding out my jacket for me to put on.

Oh.

"Oh. I just like polaroids," I told him as I shrugged my arm into one of the jacket sleeves and then the other. "They are...easy to take."

I didn't realize where we were going until Alastair stopped the car in front of a fairly deserted land, a little far away from our hotel, which was surrounded by the familiar snowy hills and a few small wooden cabins. It wasn't all deserted, I figured, when I noticed people inside the fenced area, walking by the cabins. At least, that's all I could've made out from sitting inside the car.

"Where are we?" I asked him curiously, craning my neck to take a look past the barbed wires all around the area.

"The wolf shelter," Alastair told me as he opened his door, motioning for me to do the same.

When I got out of the car and really took in my surroundings, I couldn't believe I was actually here. I couldn't believe I was going to see real wolves.

Nice wolves, I told myself when my heart raced a little in fear. They won't be like the ones in the wild. Besides, I had Alastair with me. He wouldn't purposefully put me in harm's way.

I jumped a little in surprise when I felt a hand on my back, breaking me out of the little trance I had gotten myself into. Turning around, I realized it had just been Alas.

"You're jumpy," he said with that little smile, the one with all the world's honesty in it, the one that I'd like to believe he just kept for me. "Are you scared?"

"No." My voice came out a little high, but really, I wasn't scared. It hadn't been the wolves that got me so jumpy. It had been his hand on my back, which he had not yet pulled away. How in the hell was I supposed to tell him all that?

"I mean, yeah," I added. "I am a little scared. There are gonna be real wolves in there." That last statement was for me because apparently, I still couldn't quite believe it.

Alastair chuckled at that, pulling his hand away.

"It will be fine. Really." Then he held up something in his hand, making my eyes trail down towards the lilac object. My camera. "You forgot this in the car."

And when he leaned a little closer to wrap the strap around my neck, I couldn't help but stare. And freeze evidently.

Was he doing this all on purpose?

That lack of distance, those subtle soft touches.

Did he somehow remember last night? Was he awake when I had kissed his forehead? Had he heard my confession last night, right before he passed out?

I knew I was overthinking it all. Any girl, especially the ones back in my hometown, would have died to be where I was right now--at least that's what Tara would have said. Tara herself would have swooned over the sight of Alastair's face.

Those cheekbones, Lia, she would have said, and those big, strong shoulders. How can you not fall in love with those eyes?

But Tara didn't know about him, and I realized that I was...relieved that she didn't. I didn't like the prospect of telling anyone about him, almost like a little secret.

A stupid secret. Like myself.

It was the warmth from Alastair's fingers grazing softly against my neck, that made me breathe out shakily. I looked up at him, in his eyes, and it appeared that he knew what he was doing. He knew what he was doing to me. This time, I knew I wasn't scared because of the wolves. I was scared of this.

Alastair pulled away then and I had this sudden urge to step closer towards him. He gave me a soft smile, almost as if he knew what was going on in my head.

"Come on."

The wolves helped. They kept me from overthinking any further. Alas was with me all the while, but for once, I was not thinking about him only. I was thinking about the furry, playful, and very excited wolves, which were quite frankly all around me.

I did actually scream a little when one of the young wolves, a small grey one, chose me to pat his thick, soft fur. According to one of the nice trainers, you were not supposed to go to just any of them. They chose you. The cute little wolves chose you. Wasn't that just adorable?

I told Alastair it was pretty adorable and he laughed when I screamed a little later.

Those were the best few hours of my life.

"I like her," I spoke as I was sitting on the sandy ground, aware that my jeans might just be ruined, and continued stroking the little wolfy beside me. She was too huge to be a young pup, but she was--according to Justine the trainer. She had the softest grey fur and she seemed to follow Alastair and me wherever we went. "Can we adopt her?"

Alas was sitting on a folding table beside us, his boots perched up on the bench. "We?"

"You know what I mean." I grinned at the pup, whose name was Crystal. They named her that because of her eyes, her bright silver eyes. I looked up at Alastair. "She's adorable, Alas. She even has the same beautiful eyes like yours."

"Okay." He was smiling. "Where would you keep her?"

"I don't know." I pulled my head away when Crystal tried licking me in the face. This was, by far, the fifth time she tried doing that. A little gross, but still adorable.

"And you're sure you can take care of her."

The answer was simple, even though once again, he didn't care to make it sound like a question. I sighed. "I can barely take care of myself."

"See?" He sounded entertained.

I passed him a glare. "Fine. Whatever." I patted the little pup, just above the head. "I'm sorry I can't keep you, love." Alastair laughed at that too.

We left the sanctuary after an hour, right near evening. I was sad to bid farewell to all the wolves (there were ten in total, with three trainers), but at least I got to take some pictures. Pictures that would forever remind me of this day.

"Oh my God, look at this one." I gushed silently, waving one of the polaroids in my hand, the one which I had taken of Alas and Crystal together. It was my favorite out of all of them and that wasn't even because of the cute pup, but mainly because Alas was laughing in it, and just looking at that produced this sort of giddiness in my stomach. Like butterflies. "You two have the same eyes."

Alastair apparently disagreed.

"No, I'm serious," I told him. "You have the same--"

"--beautiful, silver eyes." He finished. I nodded. He passed me a narrowed look then, a short one since he was driving, and I just about managed to spot the mischievous glint in his eyes. "You never really told me that before."

"Told you what?"

"That you find my eyes very beautiful." He wasn't looking at me, but rather at the road ahead. I still saw the smirk, though.

I clutched the pictures in my hand. Stupid, stupid me.

"Oh, well..." I trailed off, looking down at the pictures. "It...must've slipped out." What? "Not that your eyes aren't beautiful," I added in just as quickly, cringing.

He was silent. When I managed to look at him, I saw that he was smiling.

Damn it.

We ended up getting ourselves something to eat after that. But by the time we got back in the car, I noticed the sky darkening up a little.

"Are you tired?" He asked me, not really starting the car, but choosing to fix his gaze on me.

Startled, I didn't really know what to say. Was I tired?

Truth was that I wasn't really. Tired, I mean. I did want to go and lay down on my very soft and inviting bed back at our hotel room, but so far this day had gone amazing. And I realized that I really meant it.

This had been one of the best days of my life, and that wasn't just because my morning had started out good with that nice farmer's market, or because I enjoyed my time at the wolf shelter. But mainly, it was because of him.

It wouldn't matter, I kept telling myself, in the end, it wouldn't. Still, I didn't think I could ever get tired of spending my time with him.

That's not what I told him, though.

"No. Are you tired?" I asked him, raising my brows expectantly.

He started the car and began pulling out of the street we had stopped at, in front of the small diner.

"Not when I'm with you."

It wouldn't matter in the end.

Time flew as Alastair drove by. I spent my time looking out of the window, watching as the streets passed by, changing into tall dark trees, zooming past my vision. None of us really talked during the ride and I was pretty fine with that. The silence wasn't tense, but distracting. Distracting in a good way.

By the time Alastair stopped the car once again, the sun was almost setting, darkening the pretty blue sky. At least, that's the first thing I noticed. Slowly after that my eyes fell on the big Victorian structure in front of us.

And it was huge.

Built like a castle.

I recognized it pretty fast. The Hawthorne mansion.