Misbegotten

Eight

"Where were you all day?" I had hardly walked in the door when Chelsea bombarded me.

"Around," I murmured. I didn't want to tell her that I was with Declan, I had a feeling she liked him - or the idea of him - either way finding out I spent the whole day with him wouldn't be a good start to our new friendship.

"Well, I was so bored."

"Sorry, guess I'm not used to you being an option to hang around with," I answered quietly.

"I apologised, I thought we were moving on?"

"We are."

"Then why do I feel like you're not even trying?" she questioned. Her accusation wasn't full of malice but I could still hear frustration in her tone.

"I guess I'm just not used to letting people get close to me. I'm sorry." I shrugged not wanting to talk about this anymore. "I'm going to have a shower." I walked out of the room and into our bathroom swiftly closing the door behind me and locking myself in. I took my time in the shower not loving the idea of facing Chelsea again. I was aware she apologised but after my talk with Declan I was finding it harder to completely move on from everything that had happened. I knew it wasn't fair because I could see in her own way Chelsea really was trying. I mean she was speaking to me and that in itself was a massive step. I knew I had to try and be a better person and a better sister. With that in mind I quickly got dressed and towel dried my wet hair before re-emerging into the main room. Chelsea was sitting on her bed flipping through a magazine. I sat hesitantly on the side of her bed. Chelsea glanced up when she felt the bed move under my weight and our eyes met. I smiled and she scooted over and patted the seat next to her. I gingerly crawled up to the spot and sat down.

"Why do you look like I'm about to bite your head off?" she laughed.

"Sorry," I said again.

"Stop apologising, it's fine," she laughed. We fell silent. I didn't know where to start, I had no idea what to talk about, what we had in common. We had just always acted as if the other didn't exist and while it wasn't always pleasant it had worked for us.

"So," she began. I remained silent the awkwardness eating away at my soul.

"What did you do today?" I knew she only asked to make conversation but my stomach dropped anyway. I really didn't want to tell her but I didn't want to lie either.

"Um, beach mainly," I shrugged, not a total lie, I was at the beach - briefly.

"Oh that makes sense I was by the pool," she nodded not pushing the subject further. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked after a moment.

"Yeah."

"Are you scared about tomorrow night?"

"I'm not sure if scared is the right word." I tried to laugh. "More like intensely dreading every second of it."

"It won't be that bad," she tried to reason. I turned to her with an incredulous look on my face.

"Okay, fine, it will be," she took it back when she saw my shocked expression.

"Have you met your mother," I shook my head disbelieving she could've entertained the thought for a second.

"Yes, I have actually," she said. "She's not that bad."

"To you," I corrected her.

"It's hard for her, you must understand why."

"Just because I understand doesn't make it any easier," I retorted standing up and pacing slightly. I didn't want one of my first conversations with Chelsea not hating me to turn into this. I always got so frustrated when it came to Florence, I hated that she got to me. I hated that she hated me. I hated my dad for putting us in this position.