𝘼𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙋𝙊𝙑:
The morning light streamed through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across my bedroom. I groaned, rolling over and burying my face in the pillow, trying to will away the dull ache in my head.

I wasn't even hungover, but I still felt off probably from how much I'd been overthinking last night. Running into Chris had messed with my head more than I wanted to admit.

I sighed, forcing myself to sit up. There was no point lying around all morning.

Sliding out of bed, I padded to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, blinking at my reflection. I looked... fine, I guess. A little tired, but nothing a coffee wouldn't fix.

I went through my usual routine brushing my teeth, tying my hair up, throwing on an oversized hoodie and leggings. The usual Saturday morning comfort outfit.

By the time I wandered into the kitchen, I was fully set on my plan for the day: coffee, breakfast, and ignoring the fact that Chris Dixon still existed.

But then I picked up my phone I frowned, picking it up from the counter. The screen lit up with a string of unread messages.

From Chris.

I nearly dropped the phone.

Slowly, I unlocked it, my stomach twisting as I read.

Chris: I'm sorry. I'm actually a massive dick. Like, genuinely. Proper, full-on, massive dick. Not literally. Just... in general. Anyway. I should've texted. I don't have an excuse. I was just an idiot. But I swear it wasn't because I didn't care. I've always thought you were cool. Like, really fucking cool. Just never told you. Also... I was really pissed off when you moved away without warning.

A short, breathy laugh slipped out of me despite myself. I swallowed, my chest tightening a little.

I stood there in the kitchen for a long moment, phone in hand, just... staring.

This was the apology I hadn't expected.

And maybe it was four months too late, but still he'd said it.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair before finally typing back.

Avery: So, after four months of nothing, this is your big apology?

He replied almost immediately.

Chris: I don't think I've ever apologized so badly in my life. But it's the truth. I've always thought you were cool, Avery. I just didn't know how to deal with it.

I chewed on my lip, debating what to say.

Chris: Anyway, I've got nothing to do today apart from being hungover.

I rolled my eyes.

Chris: You got any plans? Or should I just continue sitting here, feeling sorry for myself?

I hesitated.

I could ignore him. I could leave him stewing in his own guilt. But instead, I found myself typing:

Avery: You know what? Come be hungover at my place.

The moment I hit send, I regretted it. What was I doing? Inviting Chris over after everything?

But before I could take it back, his response came through.

Chris: Really?

Avery: Yeah. You owe me for ghosting me for four months, and I could use a distraction.

Chris: I'll bring snacks and extra hangover cure. You just make sure your couch is comfortable enough and text me your address

Avery: Deal.

I locked my phone and set it down, staring at it like it had just betrayed me.

𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙋𝙊𝙑:

Chapter Fourteen

Chris

I stood outside Avery's flat, balancing a bag of snacks in one hand and knocking on the door with the other. My head was still pounding from last night, but somehow, the nervous energy buzzing in my chest overpowered the hangover.

It wasn't like I'd never hung out with Avery before but it had been years, and the last time we'd been together, we were drunk and making out at a train station. Now? I had no idea what to expect.

The door swung open, and there she was.

Hair up in a messy bun, oversized hoodie, leggings. Barefoot.

She looked comfortable. Like she hadn't spent four months overthinking our last conversation like I had.

"Hey," she said, crossing her arms. "You actually showed up."

I smirked. "Told you I would." I lifted the bag. "I come bearing snacks and hangover cures."

Avery eyed the bag suspiciously, then stepped aside to let me in.

Her flat was very Avery small but cozy, filled with books, blankets, and just the right amount of clutter to make it feel lived in.

I set the bag on the coffee table and started unloading. "Alright, I've got Lucozade, crisps, chocolate, some random energy drink I don't trust, and—" I pulled out a box, grinning. "—the classic hangover cure. A massive tub of Haribo."

Avery snorted, shaking her head. "You really went all out when your the only one who's hungover."

"Of course." I collapsed onto the sofa. "I take my hangover survival very seriously."

She plopped down next to me, tucking her legs under herself. "So, what film are we watching?"

I hesitated. "Actually... what if we do something else?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on the small shelf tucked in the corner—stacked with board games.

A slow grin spread across my face.

Avery followed my gaze, then groaned. "No."

"Oh, yes." I was already on my feet, making a beeline for the shelf. "You own them, which means you play them." I started scanning the titles. "Oh my God. Guess Who?"

Avery rolled her eyes. "That game is for kids."

"Doesn't mean it's not elite." I grabbed it and tossed it onto the coffee table before pulling out Uno for good measure. "C'mon, unless you're scared of losing?"

She scoffed. "Please. You're talking to the reigning family game night champion."

I smirked. "We'll see about that."

An hour later, I was losing. Badly.

"You're cheating," I accused as Avery put down yet another winning Uno card, grinning smugly.

"Or maybe you just suck," she teased, leaning back against the cushions.

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "This is actually painful. I thought I'd be better at this."

Avery shrugged. "Maybe you should stick to football."

I narrowed my eyes. "Alright. One more round. And then Guess Who? because I need to win at something."

She laughed. "Fine. But you're not going to win that either."

I grinned, shaking my head as I shuffled the deck.

This felt easy. Like we hadn't spent years apart. Like we hadn't spent four months avoiding each other.