But she started dating Chad Gorakhovski, some Russian prick she met during summer practice. He was a straight-A student who preferred polos over sweatshirts, wine over whiskey, and played golf on weekends. The guy was the opposite of me. And she brought him to France.
I watched them laugh and hug the whole month, hoping they would get sick of each other or at least have a fight.
They didn't. They continued dating, despite the fact that Chad was two years older and went off to college at the end of summer. They decided to have a long-distance relationship, and it worked.
Until now. Kendall just told me that they broke up. I didn’t believe her at first. I thought she was only trying to avoid my mocking him by calling herkitten. I always hated that nickname. Maybe it was because of how he pronounced it, murmuring like a perv, perhaps it was the way she looked at him when he said it, but probably it was merely because it was Chad. He called her kitten when she's obviously a tiger, but she mewed in response like a good girl.
But now she broke up with that asshole, and she's single again. I almost lost hope when they celebrated their first anniversary and she told her parents that Chad wanted them to live together after she finished school. I was so mad that day that I almost got into trouble by starting a fight with my classmate. But Kendall saved me by yelling at me, hitting me, and driving me home.
She always was attentive to me, even after we became enemies.
I look at her parted lips and lick my own, desperately wanting to touch them. I want to taste them, only to see if they're as good as I imagine. Usually, our fantasies overcome reality, but for some reason, I think that with Kendall, it's going to be different.
I look down at her hair. She cut her blond curls into a long bob a couple of weeks ago, and now I know why. I heard girls do that often after they break up with a guy. It looks good, but I miss her long hair. I used to touch it with my pencil each time I took a seat behind her. It was my way of being with her, or at least I thought so.
The plane shakes with turbulence, and Kendall opens her eyes.
She looks at me, slightly surprised at first and then terrified after realizing she's lying on me.
"Morning, Sapphire," I whisper with a smile. "It's time for landing."
Sapphire. My Sapphire. That's who she is. Always was and always will be.
And now I just have to explain it to her.
Chapter Four
Kendall
I can't believe I let myself fall asleep on the plane when Josh Underwood was in the seat next to me. How could I be this stupid? What if he pulled another prank on me, like when I fell asleep in the sun, and he put a paper Nazi swastika on my forehead? My whole face got tanned except for that spot. I had to cover it with tons of makeup and then go to bed with that sign on my face every day after taking off my cosmetics.
I remind myself that it was a long time ago, and Josh hasn't pulled any pranks on me for more than two years. I have no idea why he stopped torturing me and started ignoring me instead, but I am glad he did.
Maybe it was because our parents retired and went on a trip around the world, so we stopped seeing each other often. We used to have family dinners almost each week.
Last summer we also spent it together, but Chad was with me, so I tried to ignore Josh. Luckily, he didn't want to hang out with us, even though Chad offered a couple of times out of politeness. Josh declined every one of those offers, reading all day at the beach and then going to the bars each evening to meet girls.
I was okay with that; I wasn't jealous, not even a little. I don't care what he does, who he fucks, and with whom he goes to bed each night. The invisible thread that tied us in childhood was broken long ago, and Josh was the one who broke it, never looking back.
Not until now, at least. Today he looks at me differently, carefully peering into my face as if he wants to see something in it, to get an answer to some silent question. Usually, I simply avoid his gaze, but what can I do now, when we're stuck together on this plane?
How could my head fall on his shoulder? It's a business class seat; they’re big enough to sleep in. Why didn’t I make sure I was as far as possible from him before passing out? Then maybe my head wouldn't have fallen on the shoulder of my worst enemy.
I look at my phone to make sure that Josh didn't paint anything on my face while I was sleeping. And then I check my hair, making sure that there's no gum in it like he did that summer when he turned fifteen and decided to stop being friends with me. He told me he had nothing to do with it, but I knew it was him. I had to cut it short and wear bangs because of that gum.
But there’s nothing wrong with my face, neck, or hair. He simply let me sleep on his shoulder, for I don't know how long.
Did he finally become mature enough that he won't mock me or ignore me anymore? Can we speak like two adults who are obliged to tolerate each other? Because conversations with Josh have been like a battlefield.
Miami greets us with cloudy weather, for which I am very grateful. Los Angeles has been so hot the last few weeks that I began to miss rain. Maybe that's why I want to study in the UK: I love rain more than the sun. When it rains outside, and you look at it, it feels like those drops are wiping all of your problems away. The rain was definitely made for poets, but future medical students like me also like it.
I don’t speak to Josh all the way to our beach house. Luckily, our taxi driver is very talkative, and it distracts Josh while I try to pretend he doesn't exist.
When we arrive, the driver helps us with our luggage. I grab my bag immediately, rushing to my room before I can be left alone with Josh. I guess I'll just take a shower and sit in there until everyone arrives and it’s time for dinner.
I go to the window and open it, letting the fresh air in. But the wind is so strong that the curtains fly up immediately, and I have to make an effort to close the window again.
Looks like it's going to be a little stormy.