The Girl I Once Loved: Love & Hate Duet

I sit at the small desk in my old room, the laptop screen casting a faint blue glow on my face. My fingers dance across the keyboard, putting the finishing touches on a chapter. The words have been pouring out of me since that fight with Noah, the characters coming to life like never before, no sign of my writer’s block anywhere.

Maybe it’s because the characters are us. A story that I’ve been replaying in my head all these fucking years.

The intrusion of the door slamming open yanks me back to reality, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips. It’s Daisy, of course, bursting into the room with that energy that’s her trademark. She’s practically vibrating with excitement, and I wish I could muster up any of it.

‘Skylar, why aren’t you ready?’ she practically squeals, her eyes wide and filled with anticipation.

I look up from my laptop, the reluctance evident in my expression even though I’m trying to hide it. ‘Sorry, I just got caught up with work.’

I haven’t told her, or anyone for that matter, that I’m writing a book for myself yet. Mostly because I’m not sure it will ever see the light of day since it’s so fucking personal.

She pouts and strides into my closet, rifling through my clothes.

“This is perfect!“ she says as she comes out holding a long, strapless sundress.

“Awesome,” I say in the fakest voice imaginable.

And Daisy knows it’s fake.

‘It’s just a pre-wedding party, Skylar,’ she says in a coaxing voice. ‘Booze. Food. And Noah half naked. It’s a dream.”

I shoot her an annoyed look because ever since that moment at the door before her bridal shower, she can’t let go the idea of Noah and I reuniting.

Or at least using each other for hot sex.

Which I definitely have not been thinking about. Dreaming about. Or obsessing about.

Apparently she’s forgotten the whole speech she gave me about making her wedding perfect.

Because the combination of Noah and I is the opposite of that goal.

Daisy holds up her hands innocently. “I’m just saying.”

I close my laptop with a resigned sigh and stand up, pushing my chair back. ‘I’m getting ready. But only if you promise not to say anything about Noah and sex for the rest of the day.’

Daisy’s face lights up with a mischievous smile. “I don’t recall mentioning anything about you, Noah, or sex, baby sister.”

I groan, and she laughs like a freaking hyena as I slip on the sundress.

As we leave my room, I can’t help but feel a sense of dread settle over me. Nothing good for me has ever happened on a boat.

Except that one time…

Nope. Today is not the day for going down memory lane.

I’m doing enough of that while writing.

We drive to the parking lot adjacent to the marina, anxiety bubbling inside me like a fizzy cocktail. The sun hangs lazily in the sky, clouds dipping across it and casting shadows across the waterfront.

Even if I hate the ocean, I can’t help but admire the picturesque scene. The marina buzzes with activity, boats of all shapes and sizes bobbing in the water, their masts swaying in the gentle breeze. We step out of the car, the salty tang of the sea air immediately filling my senses.

As we approach, I catch my first glimpse of the boat—a vessel that exudes an effortless charm, its white exterior gleaming in the sunlight. The deck, with its inviting lounging areas and a beautifully set dining table, looks like a scene from a dream. My eyes take in the exquisite details—the polished chrome railings, the rich mahogany accents, and the plush white leather seating. It’s different from the yacht Derrick used for parties in high school. This one’s at least twice as big. Not as big as the yacht the Monroes use for their famous Christmas parties, but still very impressive. It does leave me to wonder though just how many yachts Derrik’s family even owns. I wouldn’t be surprised if they owned most of the boats docked in this marina.

My awestruck admiration of the boat is interrupted when I see him.

Noah.

Standing on the deck, shirtless, his hair casually tied back in a bun. Tendrils of hair escape and frame his rugged features, and a pang of…yearning coats my insides.

Noah has always been handsome, but the years have only enhanced his allure. His tanned skin glows in the sunlight, and the play of muscles beneath his skin is a captivating sight. The ocean breeze softens his masculine features, making him look like a character from a summer romance novel.

I can feel my heart race, my mouth suddenly dry, as I find myself practically entranced by his presence. Daisy, of course, notices my reaction and smirks knowingly.

‘Skylar, I’d almost think you’re checking out our brother,’ she teases, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Stepbrother,” I growl. “And you promised no more teasing.”

“Fine. Fine. Eye fuck our stepbrother all you want.”

I slap my hand across her mouth as she giggles furiously. Derrick comes out to greet us, an amused smile on his lips when he sees what’s happening.

“Uh, oh. Is my gorgeous fiancée already causing trouble?”

Daisy softens, staring at Derrick in a lovestruck haze, and I remove my hand from her mouth. Now that Derrick’s here, I bet she’ll forget all about Noah and I.

“Never,” she purrs, and I clear my throat, just in case they forget that our parents are around and they can’t start fucking on the dock.

Derrick leads us onto the yacht, and I steadfastly keep my gaze away from where Noah is drinking a beer by the railing.

I sure can feel his gaze on me though.

Is this some kind of game for him? Because the way his stare is caressing my skin, I’m going to go insane.

And I really need to order a vibrator to take the edge off soon.

There’s a full bar set up even though it’s just the immediate family on the boat today, and I hover over to get a drink.

Comfortably numb is my hope for the day.

‘Slow down, little stalker. I don’t want to have to carry you home tonight,’ Noah drawls from next to me. I take an even bigger gulp of my drink because, of course, he’s not going to stay away.

He’s trying to ruin me.

I try to keep my voice steady as I greet him. ‘Hello to you, too, Noah.’

His hand drags across the bare skin of my back as he passes behind me to get another beer from the bartender.

Goosebumps cascade across my skin, and my panties are all of a sudden wet.

Stacy chooses that moment to arrive with her husband and child though, and I’m reminded just why it’s so imperative to stay away from Noah.

Any more heartbreak from him just might kill me.

I walk over to where Daisy and my parents are talking to Derrick’s, and listen politely, pretending to give a crap about what they’re saying.

Curt throws an arm around my shoulders and smacks a kiss across the top of my head.

“Glad you’re here,” he says with a smile, and a surge of affection rushes through me.

“Me too,” I say, and despite Noah, and Stacy, and the awkwardness with my mother…for a moment, I am.

Everyone engages in a lively conversation about the plans for the day, but I find myself struggling to focus. Noah’s proximity is a constant distraction, and I can’t help but steal glances at him when I think no one is looking.

The gentle sway of the yacht as it sails over the calm waters provides a welcome respite from the bustling activity below. I had sought refuge on the top deck, needing a moment of solitude to collect my thoughts and escape the prying eyes and curious conversations that swirled around me. The expansive sea stretched out before me, its horizon seemingly endless, a vast expanse that matched the questions and uncertainties filling my mind.

As I lean against the railing, staring out at the tranquil waters, the rhythmic sound of footsteps approach, and I know without looking that it’s him—Noah. I can feel his presence, an almost magnetic pull that has a way of drawing me in, whether I want it to or not.

He settles beside me, his gaze fixed on the horizon, and we stand in silence for a moment, the only sounds the gentle lapping of waves against the yacht’s hull and the occasional laughter of our companions drifting up from below.

‘I hope you’ve been happy,’ he finally says, an ache in his voice that makes my heart race. “Even with what I said the other day…I hope everything’s been okay. Better than okay…”

I turn to look at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun. ‘Happy?’ I echo, completely caught off guard.

Noah nods, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. ‘Despite everything that happened…I hope you’ve found happiness.’

His words hang in the air between us, and I struggle to find an adequate response. Noah has always been a complex enigma, a puzzle I can never quite solve. His genuine concern for my well-being, after all these years, leaves me feeling both vulnerable and cautious.

I clear my throat, finding my voice at last. ‘I’m not sure I actually know what happiness is anymore,” I admit, and I wince because why on earth am I telling him that?

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s as if time has stopped. I can see the traces of the boy I once loved in the depths of his gaze, and it hurts, because I loved that boy so fucking much.

‘What about that boyfriend?’ he asks casually, as if inquiring about the weather. “He’s not making you happy?” His eyes gleam at the question, and I blush for no reason at all other than he’s looking at me.

“We’re on a break,” I tell him carefully.

There’s no reaction and I scoff. ‘But you knew that already, didn’t you?’

Noah’s lips curl into a wry smile, and he takes a slow sip from the beer in his hand. ‘Yeah, I did.’

I sigh, my shoulders sagging with the weight of Gael. ‘It’s…complicated. We both needed some space.’ It’s not quite the truth, but I can’t give him that.

Noah raises an eyebrow, his gaze searching mine. ‘Space from what?’

I hesitate, my emotions swirling like a storm within me. How could I explain to him that I can’t commit. That I’m breaking Gael’s heart because I’m still obsessed with a memory…his memory. That he gave me scars I can’t get rid of?

‘Space from…everything,’ I finally reply, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He nods, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of life. Noah doesn’t press for further details, and I’m grateful for that, even though that gratefulness is tinged with an air of melancholy. Noah takes another sip from his beer, his gaze returning to the sunset. The silence stretches between us, but it’s…comfortable for once.

We stand side by side, lost in our own thoughts, the past and present colliding in a way that neither of us can fully comprehend.

Noah’s gaze remains fixed on the horizon, his profile illuminated by the softening light. The sea breeze ruffles his hair, and tendrils of it fall across his forehead, giving him a rugged, enigmatic look. His bare chest, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, revealed a well-defined physique, and my traitorous heart skips a beat as I notice the new tattoos etched into his skin.

I swallow hard, my eyes tracing the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw…his lips. He’s so fucking beautiful. And beneath the physical allure, there’s something deeper, something that has always drawn me to him—the familiar warmth in his gaze, the way he makes me feel seen and understood, as if no time had passed at all.

As the yacht continues its journey across the tranquil waters, I can’t escape the feeling that our reunion, however uncertain, is a turning point in our intertwined stories. The sun dips below the sea, casting the world into shades of orange and pink. In that fleeting moment, as the sun kisses the sea and the stars begin to emerge in the darkening sky, I allow myself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there’s a chance for us to find closure, to heal old wounds, and to navigate the turbulent waters of our shared history.

Maybe it’s possible for us to finally find…peace.

The phone rings, startling me from my thoughts. I glance at the caller ID, and my heart skips a beat. It’s my editor, Eliza. I quickly pick up, my voice a mix of anticipation and anxiety. I’d sent her the first couple of chapters of my book, getting more nervous every day when she hadn’t said anything.

‘Skylar, darling,’ Eliza’s voice comes through the line, brimming with enthusiasm. ‘I’ve just finished reading the chapters you sent, and I have to say, they’re absolutely brilliant. I’m gushing over here.’

I can’t help but smile at her words, a faint glimmer of hope flickering within me. ‘Thank you, Eliza. I’m glad you liked them.’

‘Liked them? Skylar, these are some of the best pieces of writing I’ve seen in years,’ she gushes. ‘When do you think you’ll have the whole manuscript ready? Our readers are going to adore this.’

I hesitate, my fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the desk. ‘I’m not entirely sure if I want to publish this book yet,’ I tell her, my voice trembling slightly

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and I can almost feel Eliza’s surprise and confusion. ‘Skylar, darling, you must be joking,’ she finally says, her tone a mix of disbelief and concern. ‘You’ve poured your heart and soul into this. It’s a masterpiece.’

I sigh, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. ‘I know, Eliza. But it’s…personal. More personal than anything I’ve ever written before.’

Eliza’s voice softens, understanding seeping into her tone. ‘Skylar, I’ve seen you grow as a writer over the years. You’ve always had the talent, but now you have something more—depth, emotion, vulnerability. It’s what sets this manuscript apart. You have to share it with the world.’

I run a hand through my hair, torn between my desire to keep this story hidden and my editor’s unwavering belief in its potential. ‘I need some time to think, Eliza. It’s not an easy decision for me.’

Eliza sighs, and I can sense her disappointment. ‘I understand, Skylar. Take your time. But remember, sometimes the stories that scare us the most are the ones that need to be told.’

As I hang up the phone, the weight of my decision hangs heavy over me. Eliza is right, as she often is, but the thought of exposing my innermost thoughts and feelings to the world fills me with a deep sense of vulnerability. It’s a battle between my desire for anonymity and the potential for connection that comes with sharing my truth. And for now, I’m left with the agonizing uncertainty of which path to choose.

The rain falls steadily from the darkened sky, the gentle pattering of droplets on my umbrella creating a soothing rhythm. The morning had disappeared, chapters flowing out of me for hours. The book is easy to write…but it’s also painful. So a break is in order.

With no particular destination in mind, I let my feet carry me through the familiar streets of Thatcher’s Bay. The town wears a different face in the rain, softer, more subdued. The cozy coastal cottages appear even more inviting, their window panes shimmering with the warm glow of lamplight.

As I wander aimlessly, my thoughts inevitably drift to Noah. Our previous encounters have left a lingering tension in the air, a thread of attraction I’d been desperately trying to deny. It’s as if he has the power to pull at my very core, awakening emotions I’ve long buried.

Without realizing it, my steps lead me to the cemetery where Noah’s mother rests. The wrought-iron gates creak open as I enter, and the raindrops dance on the gravestones like tears from the heavens.

I walk along the winding paths, past rows of markers, until I find her grave. The headstone is a simple one, adorned with a delicate bouquet of fresh flowers. My heart clenches as I recognize Noah’s handwriting on the small card tucked into the bouquet.

The rain continues to fall, soaking through my clothes, but I don’t care. I crouch down in front of the grave, my fingers tracing the letters of her name etched into the stone.

‘Annabelle,’ I whisper, the word a bittersweet melody on my lips. ‘What would you think of the mess we’ve made, I wonder?’

The sound of the raindrops on the umbrella is the only response, but in this quiet moment, it feels like she’s listening, her presence lingering in the air.

I sit there for a while, lost in thought, my heart heavy with memories of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The rain seems to wash away some of my doubt, cleansing me of the burden I’ve been carrying.

‘I hope you’re at peace,’ I murmur, placing a hand on the grave.

As I rise to my feet and turn to leave, I notice a solitary figure standing not far from me, beneath an ancient oak tree. It’s Noah, his shirt soaked through from the rain, his hair clinging to his forehead. He’s been here, watching me silently.

I approach him, my heart pounding in my chest. There’s something in his eyes, a vulnerability I haven’t seen in a long time. ‘Noah,’ I say softly, not sure what else to say.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze locked onto his mother’s grave. The rain continues to fall around us, but in this moment, it feels like the entire world has faded away, leaving only the two of us.

‘I still come here all the time,’ he finally says, his voice low and filled with emotion. ‘To talk to her, you know?’

I nod, understanding the need to connect with the past, to seek solace in the presence of someone who’s gone but not forgotten.

Noah turns to look at me, his eyes searching mine. ‘Sky, there’s so much we haven’t said to each other, so much that’s been left unsaid.’

I swallow hard, the weight of our history pressing down on me. ‘I know, Noah. But sometimes, some things are better left in the past.’

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against mine. ‘Maybe. But maybe some things need to be said, too.’

I can feel the pull between us, the unspoken desire, but I’m not ready to face it, not now. ‘Noah, I need time. Time to figure things out.’

He nods, his expression filled with understanding. ‘Take all the time you need, Sky. Just know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.’

As the rain continues to fall, I realize that some things are beyond our control, like the raindrops that keep on falling, bringing both solace and uncertainty. Annabelle’s grave stands as a silent witness to the love and loss that has defined our lives, a reminder that the past is never truly buried.

With a final glance at Noah, I turn and walk away, the rain washing away the tears on my cheeks and the weight in my heart. The road ahead is uncertain, but it’s a strange thing…every day that passes back in Thatcher’s Bay…I’m a little less afraid of the unknown.