5. Phoebe

Whoever said shifters don’t get hangovers are dirty, lying scumbags. They are painfully real. The instant dawn breaks, I flop out of bed, grab a towel, stick a dark blue, baggy dress over some exercise wear and vanish out of our house.

Still, I was spied on the way by Dash and Kian. “Fun times Kharkov!” they called out, miming drinking actions.

But they were smiling, a smattering of brown freckles dotting Dash’s nose and cheeks. Kian blushing as normal. Normally, they would pretend they hadn’t seen me and glanced the other way.

I mimed a gun to the head, rolling my eyes and getting another laugh. /Well done!/ Huli chimed.

“Nah, think of us, Phoebe. Shaw was sick on our feet on the run home!”

“No way!” I joke. The happiness at having someone new to talk to other than Huli almost made me forget Riley.

I head to the riverbank. The tyre swing I have spent endless hours mulling things over at. However, today, I have a different purpose. Untying my plaited hair, wondering wha