AJ and I

Mallory

AJ's car smelled like petrol, stale crisps, and whatever cheap aftershave he drowned himself in before school. The heater was blasting, but I still rolled the window down, letting the cold air slap against my face.

"Seriously?" AJ shot me a look as he turned down our road. "It's freezing, Mal."

"You literally wear hoodies in the middle of summer. Don't start."

"Yeah, well, I don't make the car feel like the inside of a fridge," he muttered, turning the radio up.

I didn't bother replying, just stared out the window, watching the blurred streetlights flicker past. It wasn't often that AJ drove me home anymore. Since he'd passed his test, he'd been too busy picking up his mates, seeing Saoirse or doing whatever it was eighteen-year-old lads did when they had access to a car.

It was nice. Familiar.

And then, because he couldn't let anything be nice for too long, he had to open his mouth.

"You and Kian Holland." His voice was casual, but I knew him too well. "What's goin' on there?"

I blinked, turning to him. "What?"

He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. "You heard me."

I scoffed. "Why do you care?"

AJ exhaled through his nose, slowing as we reached our estate. "Because I know what lads like him are like."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, here we go."

"I'm serious, Mal."

"So am I," I shot back. "You don't even know him."

"Don't have to." He pulled up outside the house, putting the car in park. "I've seen enough."

I unbuckled my seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. "Well, good for you, but I don't need your approval."

AJ didn't say anything. Just drummed his fingers against the wheel, his jaw tight.

I hesitated for a second, then shook my head, shoving the door open. "Thanks for the lift," I muttered, slamming it behind me.

I didn't wait for a reply. Didn't look back.

Because the truth was, AJ wasn't wrong.

And that was exactly why I didn't want to hear it.

The house was warm when I stepped inside, the scent of whatever Mam was cooking drifting through the hall. I could hear the faint sound of the telly from the sitting room, but before I could make it up the stairs, Ma's voice called out from the kitchen.

"That you, Mallory, love?"

I sighed, dropping my bag by the stairs. "Yeah, it's me."

"Come in here for a second."

I considered ignoring her, pretending I hadn't heard, but I knew better. With a resigned breath, I made my way into the kitchen, where she stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot. She glanced over her shoulder, offering me a smile.

"Good day?"

"It was alright," I said, leaning against the counter.

She hummed, turning back to the pot. "AJ drive you home?"

"Yeah."

Her lips twitched. "And did you two actually get along, or were you at each other's throats as usual?"

I exhaled sharply. "He was being nosy."

"Nosy about what?"

I hesitated. "Nothing."

Ma gave me a look. The kind that said she didn't believe me but wasn't going to push—yet. Instead, she nodded towards the fridge. "Get the butter out, will you?"

I grabbed it without question, setting it beside her. "Where's Da?"

"In the garage, obviously." She smirked. "Where else would he be?"

Fair point.

I nodded, fiddling with the hem of my sleeve.

"You're quiet," Ma noted after a moment.

I shrugged. "Just tired."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. "Go on up, then, pet. Dinner will be ready in twenty."

"Alright."

I turned to leave but paused in the doorway, glancing back at her.

"Ma?"

She looked up. "Yeah, love?"

I hesitated. Thought about asking her what she'd think if I liked someone like Kian Holland. If she'd tell me to stay away, like AJ would.

But instead, I just shook my head. "Nothing."

Her gaze lingered for a second before she smiled softly. "Go on, then."

I nodded, walking out and heading up the stairs, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest.

I shut my bedroom door behind me and flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet except for the faint clatter of pots from the kitchen and the occasional muffled sound of the telly downstairs.

It used to be different.

When I was younger, AJ and I were inseparable.

I rolled onto my side, pressing my cheek against the pillow, and let my mind drift back to when we were kids.

Back when he was my best friend.

AJ had always looked out for me. Even when I didn't want him to.

When I was five, he was the one who held my hand on the first day of school because I was scared to go inside. When I was eight, he taught me how to ride a bike, running beside me down the road until I finally stayed upright.

And when I was ten, and some older lads were picking on me at the park, AJ was the one who stepped in, shoving one of them so hard he nearly fell over.

"Touch her again, and I'll break your nose," he had warned, voice cold in a way I'd never heard before.

They didn't bother me after that.

I idolized him then. Followed him around like a shadow, wanting to do whatever he did, be wherever he was.

And for a long time, he let me.

But things changed when we got older.

AJ started spending more time with his own friends, going places I wasn't invited to, doing things I wasn't supposed to know about.

We still got along, still bickered like normal siblings, but there was a distance between us now—one that hadn't always been there.

And sometimes, when he looked at me, I wondered if he ever missed how things used to be.

Because I did.

I sighed, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling.

I did miss it. The way things used to be.

Back when AJ wasn't just my brother, but my best friend. Back when I could tell him anything, and he actually listened.

Now, we barely talked unless we had to. He had his own life, his own friends, and I had mine. That was just how it went, wasn't it? You grew up, and things changed.

Didn't mean I had to like it, though.

I grabbed my phone off my bedside table, debating texting Serena or Eden, but something stopped me. My mind drifted to Kian instead.

He'd been on my mind way too much lately.

I scrolled through my messages, my finger hovering over our last conversation. It wasn't much—just him telling me to behave in English earlier, paired with a smirking emoji.

I bit my lip, hesitating before typing out a reply.

Me: You're one to talk.

I stared at the message for a second before hitting send.

A part of me wasn't even sure why I was texting him.

Maybe it was because talking to him came easy. Maybe it was because, unlike AJ, he actually looked at me like I mattered.

Or maybe—just maybe—I just wanted to hear from him.

My phone vibrated almost instantly.

Ki: Aye? What's that supposed to mean, princess?

I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Me: Exactly what it sounds like. You're a troublemaker, Holland.

His reply came just as fast.

Ki: And you love it.

I scoffed, shaking my head, but I didn't deny it. Instead, I typed back,

Me: You wish.

I stared at the screen, waiting for his response, but it didn't come straight away.

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed and closing my eyes.

It was stupid how much I liked talking to him. How much I liked him, full stop.

There were so many reasons I shouldn't.

He was reckless. He had trouble written all over him. And worst of all, he was completely off-limits.

But none of that seemed to matter when he was around.

My phone vibrated again, and I grabbed it quickly.

Ki: What you up to?

I hesitated before replying.

Me: Thinking about when AJ was my best friend :(

This time, he took a little longer to respond.

Ki: And now?

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

Me: Now it feels like we're strangers.

I stared at the message for a second before shaking my head and locking my phone.

I didn't want to get into it—not with Kian, not with anyone.

Some things just didn't have an easy fix.