I wake the next morning with a dry mouth that tastes like the bottom of a bin, and I’m tangled up in sheets that are not my own.

Broad shoulders face me, and I can feel a tenderness between my thighs.

I’m naked.

Naked and in bed with a boy I have no interest in, and what’s worse, no feelings for.

But at least I’m not a virgin anymore.

I gave away what I was keeping for someone else because he discarded me. He threw me away, and he didn’t even warn me that he was going to do it.

Sore and more than a little groggy, I untangle myself from the sheets. Robbie groans but doesn’t wake, and I count myself thankful.

With unsteady legs, I stumble around the room and find my jeans, shirt and bra, but no knickers. As I bend to check under the bed, the whole world tilts and my shrunken brain bangs against the inside of my skull.

I’m never drinking again.

Forgoing the knickers, I slide into my clothes and do the walk of shame downstairs.

This place is a mess. I’d hate to be the person responsible for cleaning all this up before their parents get home.

Empty bottles and random bodies lie everywhere. Food is ground into the carpet, and stains cover places that no food or drink should have ever been spilt.

Rubbing my forehead and wincing, I crawl over prone bodies and stumble into the kitchen. With no one around to ask, I scour the cupboards for some paracetamol and groan in relief when I find some. Two glasses of water and two tablets later, I lean my head on the cool countertop and debate the best way to get home.

I don’t know where Erin is, I don’t even know if she’s aware of where I disappeared last night, but thankfully my phone is still in my jeans pocket.

I check my messages and see multiple texts from her to say that she’s at home and to call her as soon as possible.

I’m not proud of myself when I delete them all and only reply with: I will later.

I can’t face her judgement right now. Not that I think she would judge me, but I kind of left her high and dry, again.

I’m hardly in the running for a top friend award right now.

I clean up after myself—because that’s what I was always told to do—even though it makes no difference to the state of the place, and make my way outside to the front garden and call a taxi.

It’s lucky that Mum and Max are away because I’d hate to try and explain coming home in this state.

The straight-A student, quiet and generally unassuming, who rarely goes out and never drinks, coming home looking like this would not be something easily hidden or ignored.

I know I’m given a lot of freedom, but I’ve never abused that privilege—until now.

When the taxi pulls up outside Mum’s house, the front door is already open, and the guy with the auburn hair is stood in the entryway with his back towards me.

He’s tall and slim, and his hair is the kind of deep auburn that many women spend a fortune trying to achieve.

And he likely shared Galen’s bed last night.

The remnants of the alcohol in my stomach threaten to expel themselves as I hand over too much money to the driver and walk up the path towards the house with my arms wrapped around my middle and my head down.

“Fflur?”

I glance up enough to see Galen stood at the other boy’s side, a look of shock and worry on his face.

“Not now, Gal,” I mumble as I shoulder my way past them both and dart towards the stairs.

I can sense both their eyes on my back, and something inside me snaps. I can feel it, and I swear it’s that powerful, it cracks through the air in warning.

Before I lift my foot to take the first stair, I look over my shoulder at them both, smile like my heart isn’t breaking and say sweetly but with venom, “Welcome home, Gal. It’s really good to have you back.”

That evening, Mum and Max come home, and I’m summoned to attend a meal to welcome Daxon to the family.

Daxon. What kind of name is that? Probably a stage name.

“I’m tired, Mum,” I attempt to beg off. “I stayed up too late with Erin last night, and I have a test in school tomorrow. I’d rather have an early night.”

“Make an effort, Fflur. Galen’s missed you.”

Yeah, right. He’s missed me.

“C’mon, don’t miss out on the Indian food Max ordered. There’s enough downstairs to feed the entire street, and he got Tikka especially for you.”

“I’m already in my pyjamas,” I complain. “Just save me some.”

“No. Get your arse out of bed and come and spend time with us. He’s been gone for months, Fflur. He’ll think you don’t care, and I know that’s not true.”

She looks at me knowingly, and it’s all I can do not to crumble and confess everything to her.

“Okay, okay,” I concede with a grumble. “I’ll get dressed and be down in ten minutes.”

She winks at me before pulling the door closed behind her, and I squeeze my eyes shut and lie back on my bed.

Does he know? Is he worried that I saw them? Will he say anything? Does he know what I did last night?

All these thoughts plague me as I slowly drag myself out of bed and get dressed. I pull on some slouchy joggers and an oversized tee and pile my hair on my head in a messy bun.

I’m not making an effort for Galen. Or Daxon.

When I enter the dining room, everyone is already tucking into their food. Cartons of curries, rice and samosas fill the table, and Max smiles wide with a mouthful of pitta bread when he sees me walk in.

“Fflur, he’s home,” he says with unrestrained glee. “And I got you Tikka.” He motions to an unopened carton with his fork. “This is a night for celebrations. Do you want a small glass of wine or maybe a beer?”

Uh, alcohol. “Coke is fine.”

I keep my gaze on Max and manage to take a seat on the opposite side to Galen and his boyfriend?

Mum stares at me, her brows furrowed.

“Have you guys already met?” She turns to Gal and asks, “I thought you said you hadn’t seen Fflur to introduce her to Dax yet?”

Dax. It’s worse than Daxon. Why is she shortening his name after just a few hours?

“We, uh—”

At his hesitancy, my head lifts to look at him. Awkward doesn’t look good on Galen, not when I’m so used to his smiles—each and every one of them.

“We were on our way out as Fflur was coming in. It seems Fflur is a very busy girl, and we didn’t get a chance to talk,” Daxon butts in, giving Mum a smarmy grin.

Mum smiles at him, but when she turns to look at me her face falls. She knows that would not be my reaction to seeing Galen for the first time. She knows something is off.

“C’mon, guys,” Max interrupts in an attempt to clear the weirdness. “Eat, drink, be merry. Plus—” he twists to the dresser behind him and grabs his tablet. “—I have another guest who wants to celebrate with us but couldn’t be here.” When he turns the tablet around, Rhys’ face beams back at us from a video chat link.

“Hey, you guys!” he yells like Sloth from The Goonies, and everyone laughs—even Dax. “Look at all those ugly mugs. It’s good to see you, Gal.”

Galen smirks and offers a, “You too, idiot. How’s uni life treating you?”

We eat and drink and chat with Rhys, and without asking any questions of my own, I find out how Galen and Daxon met—he plays keyboard for another band—and what their plans are for the coming weeks.

They are going to work together. Galen has got a deal with a record company for a three-track debut and Daxon has been hired to accompany him along with two other guys. They call themselves, Definition, and when Daxon proudly says the new band name, he looks over at Galen like he’s his whole world and says, “Gal wanted, The Definition of Flowers, but we convinced him to cut it down to a single word for more impact.”

My heart stutters.

I snap my eyes to Galen, but he keeps his glued to his plate, twisting his fork through his rice in a figure eight.

Daxon continues to regale everyone with tales of the tour, and they listen in rapt attention, while Galen remains uncharacteristically silent.

It’s too much.

How I’ve kept it together through all this, I don’t know, but I can’t listen to him for another second.

“Night guys,” I say quietly while pushing to my feet. “Thanks for the Tikka, Max. I have a test tomorrow, so I’m going to grab an early night.”

A murmur of goodnights follow me as I leave the room, and I feel two sets of eyes like lasers on my back—Mum and Galen. I don’t let out the breath I’ve been holding until I reach my room and neither one has come after me.

With a confused heart and hangover head, I strip down to my t-shirt and knickers and climb into bed. Despite the turmoil that glugs thick like treacle through my veins, I fall asleep quickly. I’m weary to my bones. I sleep like the dead, my subconscious going into self-preservation mode and not even allowing me to dream.

I snap awake, not because of a noise, but because of an awareness of being watched.

My sleep heavy eyes open and take a second or two to adjust to the dark.

Galen sits on the floor at the side of my bed, his elbow on his knee, his hand propped up on it holding his head. His eyes are on my face.

“Fflur.” My name is thick with hurt and regret. That single word saying everything he hasn’t been able to since he came home—I’m sorry I made us drift apart. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I met someone.

I push myself up to sitting and flick on my bedside lamp. Warm light bathes his handsome face, and his lawn green eyes are watery but resolute.

When I blink, his face morphs into the boy—Robbie—from last night. Another blink and I see him thrusting inside me. Another, him groaning my name as he collapsed on top of me. Another and I’m back to looking at Galen, tears gathered on my lashes.

“I saw you and Daxon,” I admit quietly. “In the laundry room.”

He stares at me, his face unchanging.

“Are you in love with him?”

His gaze drops to his knees when he replies, “We’re together. He’s my boyfriend, I guess.”

“So you’ve told Mum and Max that you’re gay?”

This time, when his eyes land on mine, there’s a spark of fire there. “I’m not gay. If you need to give me a label, it should probably be bisexual. I didn’t set out to be with another man, it just… happened. And in answer to your question, yes, Mum and Dad know.”

It’s pointless to ask how they took the news because there was no tension in the air tonight. Well, not between all of them, anyway. I was the only one to create a scene.

“How long have you been with him?”

“Since before Christmas.”

“Is that where you spent Christmas Day? Is that why you didn’t call me?”

This time, he has no answer for me, and once more finds his knees very interesting.

An uncomfortable silence stretches between us. I’m too numb to ask anymore and too confused to ask why.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says eventually. His words small, weak. His fingers tracing a rip in his jeans.

“Don’t be, I don’t tell you everything either,” I reply with a slight bite, my words aimed to hurt, and hurt him they do.

“You’re with someone?”

How dare he ask.

“Yes. We fucked last night at the party. And I regret nothing, unlike you.”

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. My words land on target, each a direct hit through his heart. I regret them as soon as I say them.

“Why would you do that, Fflur? Why would you carelessly throw yourself away like that?”

“Should I have waited for someone I love?” I ask with a heavy dose of spite. “Like you did with Laurie? Like you did with Daxon?”

His name burns my tongue, and I snap my mouth shut.

Galen doesn’t answer. There isn’t anything he can offer that wouldn’t be a lie.

“I’m sorry, Fflur,” he says eventually before pushing up to stand. He walks to my door and hovers there a moment, his hand reaching out to open it and stilling in mid-air.

“It’s best for both of us. You’ll see that when you’re older.”

He carefully pulls the door open, and I whisper as it closes, “Best for you, you mean.”

And then I’m alone.

I don’t realise it then, but this was to be the last private conversation I would have with Galen for a long time.

Life was about to change again.