Chapter 4: Chloe

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thanks for your patience, and thanks to those that have visited me over on Radish and already read this chapter! updates will every Friday from now on. let me know what you think, i know this has been a very highly demanded chapter.

remember it is still possible to enter the competition to win a signed paperback copy of high school hit list, but time is ticking! head over to Radish for details.

ann

Maybe it was the knowledge that I would finally be seeing him, or the anticipation of reunion emanating from those surrounding me, them too returning home from the summer

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Maybe it was the knowledge that I would finally be seeing him, or the anticipation of reunion emanating from those surrounding me, them too returning home from the summer. But, as soon as I stepped onto the polished floor of the airport boarding gate, I looked up to find myself searching for him.

There were a lot of people waiting, and people were starting to stream past me to meet the embraces of their loved ones. I tucked my hair behind my ear and hovered awkwardly, trying to work out if he'd actually fronted to pick me up.

And then I saw it, the loopy handwriting scrawled upon a piece of white card. Chloe Whittaker.

In my mind, I pictured myself running over to him, bouncing on my heels and propelling myself into his arms. Maybe if I were brave, and things were better between us, I'd have done so.

But, instead, a broad grin lit up my face – a whisper as to what could have been – and I adjusted the strap of the bag slung over my shoulder.

And then I couldn't breathe.

I'd always thought of him as gorgeous. Once, I'd thought this meant he was shallow, an important piece to win over in a game more complicated than I'd known. Now, I knew that it was only really a reflection of the man within.

He was standing there with a wry smile, donned in business attire, likely straight from the office. His broad shoulders were adorned in a crisply ironed shirt, but his no-nonsense facade was tarnished with rolled-up sleeves and an undone top button. His cheeks were warm from the sun, and his hair styled neatly out of his face.

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to hug him, maybe even kiss him, but nerves overcame me. His smile had dropped a little, his expression replaced with something more, something deeper. My hummingbird heart rate was slowly betraying me, and I plucked up every inch of courage I could. "Hey, Bishop."

His smile grew, and it was as if he was taking a deep breath of relief. "Hi, Whittaker."

He'd sold his Lamborghini and replaced it with a sleek black Mercedes which was a little larger. Maybe it was more convenient for his trip to and from his parent's home, or maybe he'd just wanted a change. Still, I missed the familiarity of his old car, the memories we'd shared, no matter how deceptive they were.

"How was your flight?" he asked as we pulled out of his park. The silly sign was now in the backseat beside my luggage, and his eyes were focussed on the road.

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