4. Drowning

only to realise that it was a fucking mistake

_

"Why are you hugging the tree, weirdo?" West appeared out of nowhere, a perplex annoyance printed on his features. By the willows behind the greenhouse, the wind was sweet as it blew over the small lake, cooled itself and caressed my cheeks, puffed and red from wrestling with the willow tree that would've told me to fuck off by now if it could speak.

"I'm. Trying. To climb the damn tree! Aagh!" I shrieked as I fell flat on my rear with a loud thud, making the two finches who'd been tilting their heads and watching my endeavours with interest fly off the branch in alarm. The two-feet fall left me sprawled tiredly on the ground, and I pressed my hands together in a futile attempt to soothe my palms coarse from tugging on the bark. "Why're you here? I thought you hated my face as much as I hate yours," I hissed through gritted teeth, clambering up from the grass. I noticed that West's hair was much messier than yesterday, making him look rakishly hot.

Double standards, Ms. Inner Voice chimed, but I decided to ignore her for now.

"Don't you think you give yourself too much credit? I truly don't give a fuck about your face or whatever." West brought up the back of his hand in front of his mouth as if he was trying to hide a smirk. "By the way, people like to kiss under trees, not trees themselves. Fetish or something?"

Deciding that I had better things to care about than a douche (but hot guy) judging me, I shrugged. "You know, West, I really don't like you. At all. And I'm sure you'd be horny enough to make out with willows, but, uh, I'm not. I just happened to see this tree, and I was like, heck, I'll just climb it."

"Wow. So — this is what happens when a shithead has too much time on her hands," he deadpanned, voice dripping with disdain as he leaned against the willow and shoved a hand into the pocket of his dark green trousers.

"Ah, yes. I do take pleasure in being extraordinary," feigning a British accent, I dramatically flipped the black curls fallen loose from my messy bun as a coverup for my embarrassment. "I still don't know why you're here."

He rolled his eyes, swung his bag onto the grass and shoved one foot onto the trunk. In the blink of an eye, he was 7 feet over the ground with a few swift movements, legs dangling from both sides of the branch I had desperately been trying to reach.

The jealousy on my face must've been apparent, because reaching out a hand to me, he tried to hide a smirk. I noted that he did that often. "I'm here to make amends."

Quirking an eyebrow, I huffed, "Like I'd trust you."

"Fine, whatever. How's the weather down there, midget?" A small, lopsided smile formed on his face as he punched the tree trunk lightly with his fist, making me curse him through gritted teeth. I ignored the tips of my ears heating up at how disarmingly stunning his smile was, and, swinging my bag over my shoulder, made to leave.

Making me pause, West called out to me with a loud 'wait'. When I looked back, he was hanging from the branch by arms, the tense muscles beneath his shirt contracting. He let go, landing on the ground with a soft thump. "Look, we kinda got off on the wrong foot earlier. Let's start over?" He extended a hand, making me eye him with suspicion.

"Um, apologise first," I treaded, beaming inside — because let's face it, I'd forgive that beautiful face the moment he asked.

"Only if you promise to forgive me," he waved his extended hand before thrusting it towards me again, gesturing me to take it. Rolling my eyes, I gingerly slipped my palm in his. Only to realise that it was a fucking mistake.

West firmly gripped my hand the moment I slid it into his, swinging me sideways with such brute strength and suddenness that I could barely grasp what was happening before diving face-first into the lake with a gasp.

"Here's the payback, Rashid," he said, not suppressing the smirk this time. When I'd gathered myself enough to stand upright, I stared open-mouthed at him, still unable to process it all. Then, abruptly, a gleam of sunlight reflected off the pale blue water of the lake, and I hurriedly took a terrified step forward to get out of the chest-high water. Then my foot slipped on the soil below and I fell off the shallow end into the deeper water.

"Shit, West!" I yelped feebly, my neck barely above the water as my feet flung around. "You asshole, I can't swim—" I was cut off by a burst of water being pushed into my mouth as a distant 'shit' rung out beyond the surface. While my chest began to scream for air, I could feel my legs going numb against the water with a crippling fear. I closed my eyes.

Interrupting my primal struggle to stop my lungs from burning, a pair of strong hands seized my arms, effortlessly guiding me above the water. As soon as we resurfaced, I coughed for a good while before relishing the feel of breath filling up my lungs. Then I started to cry.

West was dumbfounded. "Wh-why're you crying?" I realised he was still grasping my arms, and shook my head. "Just- just help me to the shore, please," I avoided looking at him, but he managed to catch a glimpse of my bloodshot eyes. It must've put him off, because he swam me to the shore without uttering a single word.

Dripping, shivering, I brought my knees close to me and hugged them, still sobbing as I sat on the grass. I tried to suppress the bursts of whimpers but couldn't, while West stood on his knees, looking very stupid. I barely noticed that he was out of his white shirt and only the flimsy grey inner clung to his torso until he picked it up and moved closer to me.

I almost had it under control — this fear of water, but the stitches I'd sewn over the wound in the past three months were torn open all at once. The thought of drowning had led to the dreadful night at Casa del Poppy's swimming pool, and to the one name in all the world that I hated with every last cell in my body. To my heart being broken to pieces.

I shuddered. I tried to push West away with one hand, but he sighed, gently moved it away and placed the dry shirt on my lap. "I'm sorry, I just need some time—" a voice gentler than I had expected cut me off.

"I'm no one to judge," he stated softly. "And about earlier, I apologise. I had no idea that it'd trigger bad memories to come back."

"How do you know that?" my voice quivered as much as my lips as I spoke. I was beginning to feel the coldness seeping into my skin, and hugged myself tighter.

"Well, something bad enough must've happened to make you tear up," he stated as if it was the most obvious conclusion to jump to in the world, picking up the shirt lying uselessly on my lap. "Oh, and, I know a thing or two about a clingy bitch of a past." With that, he flung the shirt so that it landed in a ridiculous pyramid on my head.

I remembered what Principal Sen had said — it wasn't his fault that he was reckless and insensitive. But this wasn't half the jerk who'd ran my canvas over and been a bitch about it. As I stared up at him, there was a genuine and befuddling understanding in his eyes.

Resting my chin on my knees, I realised that for some mysterious reason, I trusted him.

Attempting to rub my hair dry with his vanilla-scented Edelweiss Academy shirt, I noticed that West, glance skimming over the tranquil lake, had absentmindedly begun to whistle. He must have realised that I was listening (and smiling) to a ridiculously perfect Somewhere Over the Rainbow, because he cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

"By the way, I actually came to you to ask if the boys here play basketball," he finally said, grabbing a stone from the base of the willow and launching it into the lake with a powerful swing of the arm.

"Ye-Yeah, there's actually a quite strong under 19 team from Edelweiss. You play?"

"A little. When you're done getting yourself together tomorrow, show me to the captain." As I frowned with annoyance, he smirked. "What? The Principal wants you to help me out, remember?" Rolling my eyes in reply, it occurred to me that the wet shirt clinging to my body was finally beginning to make me uncomfortable.

"Also, Rashid?" He let his head lazily turn to mine, scratching at his neck.

"Hmm?" I asked, fiddling with the material of my shirt, blushing when I realised that my cream-coloured bra was showing through. Ugh, great. The next bra-shopping, I'm going for the less boring colours. Maybe even a glaring red.

"Freaking learn to swim so that you don't have to be a pseudo damsel in distress anymore."

I snorted. "Why the 'pseudo'?"

"Because pretty damsels are too sane to be climbing willows." he stared passively at the lake water, which was once again tranquil, a soothing breeze flowing in over it.

"Are you calling me ugly? 'Cause—"

"No. I'm calling you crazy." He seemed to think for a bit, before adding, "A good crazy, though."

West's eyes became unimaginably soft.

-

"Hmm," he stroked his chin, eyes fixated appreciatively on the match.

"Hmm? Just a 'hmm'? West, it was bloody brilliant!" I cried at his lack of reaction - Ever had just scored as we watched from the bleachers. With his dunk, the practice ended and the players started to exit the court in a noisy throng. Troy and Ever waved them goodbye, making their way over to us. As Troy bumped my fist with his, I decided not to comment on the clamminess of his skin or the odour rising in puffs from their flushed bodies.

"Well?" Ever asked, gesturing to West with his head.

"Well what?" My ears grew warm at Ever's suggestiveness. "Er, this is West, he's the new guy. This is Ever. He's the captain. And that's Troy."

A mischievous, crooked smile appeared on the corner of Ever's mouth. Uh oh. "I see you've found a date for the match tomorrow, Adi."

"Wha- No." I deadpanned, shooting daggers at Ever, who seemed utterly unfazed. "In fact, this guy's a bit of a burden. The Principal told me to babysit him."

As Ever eyed him, West held out his hand for him to shake, a small smile beginning to cave its way into his face. The charm in it made something jolt in my chest. "Hi, I'm West."

"Just West?" Troy asked jokingly, making me realise that I didn't know if it was his first name or last.

"Yeah, just West. My dad's a serious hippie." That's questionable. I love it. "I used to be a point guard at my last school. Your team's really good, but your defense needs serious work."

"Believe me, West, I know," Ever ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, and the three proceeded to have a conversation about how one of their best players was injured. When their topic shifted to basketball strategies, I gave up on trying to understand and focused on the pair of butterflies that'd fluttered in and were hovering about the hoop with their beautiful navy blue wings.

"Right, Aditi?" Ever suddenly pulled me into the conversation, leaving me to appear clueless.

"We were saying that if Harry really can't come tomorrow, West'll play instead of him," Troy said, jogging in his place.

I cocked a brow at the two, swinging my bag onto my shoulder. "I didn't know that you wanted to lose this so badly, bruvs."

Ever and Troy rolled their eyes, and West made no attempt to defend himself. "Will I be needing a ticket or something?"

"Yeah, in case you don't play, but I think we're out of tickets...Wait, you got one extra, right Adi?" Ever turned to me, and I nodded in response. "I've got two at home, West. I'll bring you one tomorrow."

As we strolled out from the court, the butterflies followed us out, landing on a particularly vibrant orange poppy growing beside the gravel path.

-