My head is a blur as I take in my surroundings. I'm standing in the middle of a playground. There's a swing set to my left and a slide to my right. There are monkey bars, rope climbing frames, see-saws and more. There's something distinctly familiar about this place, but I can't quite figure out what.

Then I see it. The tree. The huge one situated right in the middle of the playground, with branches that stretch out at least three metres long, shading the central part of the playground.

I find myself now walking towards the tree, almost as if it's beckoning me.

"Dad?" I call, running a hand across the smooth bark of the huge trunk.

It's an old tree, with thickets of vines and other trees intertwined with it. I walk around it and, finding a foothold, I push myself up, grabbing onto the branch above me. Before I can go any further, I hear a familiar voice. I whip my head around and notice my father on the ground below, staring up at me with a smile as he called my name.

"Time to go," he calls.

"I don't want to go," I find myself saying.

He shakes his head at me, that familiar, warm smile still plastered to his face, and it breaks me. I want to scream, "Don't leave me!" but the words don't seem to come out.

"Time's up," he says, and the world blackens around me.

I wake in a nervous sweat. I've had dreams of childhood memories before, but it never seems to get easier.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead," my mother says from where she's standing near my bedroom door. "How are you feeling?"

I nod my head, but the memories of Anita have come rushing back to me now, and all I want is to throw the covers over my head and fall into a dreamless sleep.

"I see you're back in holiday mode." She nods towards my alarm clock which reads eleven o'clock. "Are you going out again today?"

I shake my head just as my phone buzzes on my bedside table.

"Who is it?" my mother asks.

For a split second, I forget to breathe. It's an unknown number. What if it's one of the assassins? I push the thought away. That's ridiculous. Why would they need to call me? Just to say: "Hey I'm going to kill you, be prepared."

I answer the call and am relieved to hear Mark's familiar voice on the other end.

"Mark, hey," I say, noticing my mother's knowing smirk. "What's up?" I continue, trying to hide my embarrassment by turning away from her.

"I hope it's okay I called. Justine gave me your number. I was just wondering if, well," he hesitates briefly. "I mean, if you're not busy, maybe we could hang out today?"

I pause. A part of me wants to refuse, in case I embarrass myself. Plus, I'm still kind of mad at him, but a louder voice is screaming at me to accept.

"Yeah, sure. What time?" I ask casually, though I currently feel like squealing in delight.

"Okay, cool." He sounds relieved. "See you at one. I'll come to your place."

"Cool," I say quickly. "See you." I hang up before I have a chance to stumble over my words.

"Was that the boy you went out with yesterday?" My mother asks, making a kissing face.

I don't look her directly in the eyes. Is it seriously that obvious when I like someone?

"I'm going out with him again today," I say, trying to cover my burning ears with my hair.

"Are you going to the city again?" she asks.

I frown and face her. "I don't know, actually." I shrug. "He's coming to pick me up at one."

My mother nods. "Just remember to do your chores."

"Of course," then I give her wicked grin. "So, when do I get to meet him?"

My mother stares at me, genuinely confused. "Who?"

I roll my eyes, smiling. "This mystery date of yours!"

She laughs. "Oh, I don't know..."

"Mum," I interrupt. "If this is the guy, then he needs to pass my judgement first before anything serious happens."

"Fine," she sighs. "I'll invite him over for dinner at six tonight."

"I'll be back before then," I grin.

She shakes her head at me, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Oh and Audrey," she begins to walk off. "Try not to be a klutz."

I look down at my grazed hands and blush, ashamed that I had to lie to my mother.

"You know me," I laugh nervously. "Constantly tripping over my own feet."

Well, it's not like that's much of a lie.

***

Two hours later I open the front door to find Mark standing there, fist raised.

After having finished vacuuming, dusting and doing various other errands, I had put on a pair of denim shorts and my favourite black, loose crop top with white patterns printed across it. I have just slipped on my black converses when I open the door, only to find Mark already waiting outside.

He's dressed simply. Just a grey t-shirt and shorts and a pair of black Vans. But I still can't help staring at him. And those eyes.

He sheepishly runs a hand through his neatly combed hair.

"I was just about to knock," he says.

I smile and step outside, locking the door behind me.

"Do I need anything?" I pat my short's pocket. "I've got my phone."

He shrugs and turns to leave. "It's fine. We're not going anywhere special."

"Oh, okay."

We walk in silence for a while, and for the first five minutes, I can't help thinking that maybe this was a mistake. Obviously, neither of us know how to start the conversation, and every time I think of a conversation starter, it seems to start with, "So about these assassins..."

The sun is still high in the sky, and I have no idea where we're walking. All I know is I'd rather be at home in air conditioning than walking uphill in the blazing sun. Not to mention that a pimple had formed right in the middle of my forehead at some point during the night, and I already know that no amount of those falsely-advertised acne creams would work.

I touch it self-consciously and sigh aloud.

"Audrey," Mark says hesitantly. "I'm sorry about the assassin incident the other day. We never would've gotten caught in that mess if I had just let Erik drive us."

"Why didn't you?" I ask curiously.

He scratches the back of his neck, the universal sign for boys when they're embarrassed. "I guess... I wanted to talk to you. Without the others."

I don't trust myself to speak. It's probably not even what I think it means. Instead, I stare at the concrete path beneath us, wishing I had worn my hair out rather than up, that way I could cover my tomato face.

***

We're sitting on a green field. There's a small park a few metres ahead of us, and kids are screaming in delight and laughing and crying, and parents are either talking or rushing over to their toddlers who have tripped.

"I hope you're not completely bored," Mark says worriedly.

I shrug. "After everything that's happened, boring is kind of nice."

Then the silence settles in again, but it's not awkward this time. It's quite peaceful if anything, and I sit back and enjoy the warmth of the sun.

"Are you going to talk to her?"

I already know what he's talking about because it's one of the many questions that I've been pondering over.

"Justine should have told me," I say softly. "Of course, I'll talk to her. She's my best friend. I just need some time."

Mark nods and doesn't press me any further.

Then a thought occurs to me. "Did Justine send you to talk to me?"

Mark shakes his head at me incredulously. "Of course not."

However, his response doesn't ease my suspicions. "What about Erik? Did he send you to keep an eye on me?"

Mark opens his mouth to respond, but shuts it again, looking away.

"I knew it," I mutter. I'm not angry. Not really. I knew there was a reason Mark wanted to 'talk to me alone', and it's clear now that he didn't mean in the romantic, sappy, cliché kind of way.

"Well in that case, why didn't you just send me a text asking, 'Are you okay? Have the assassins captured you yet?'" It's meant to come out sarcastic, but I think it sounds more snappy if anything.

Mark shakes his head. "You're right. I could've done that, but I didn't because I do actually want to go out with you."

For the first time, I see his cheeks tinge a light shade of red.

"I mean," he stutters. "Not 'go out' in that way. That came out wrong."

He scratches the back of his neck, and seems like he wants to continue, but decides against it. Honestly, seeing Mark stutter like that is pretty amusing. He's usual so proper and level-headed.

I remain silent, pondering over his answer. I honestly don't understand him sometimes. Just when I think I understand him, there's another undiscovered part about him to discover.

"You're doing it again."

"What?" I frown.

"Overanalysing everything."

"Am not," I scoff.

"You are. You're squinting. You do that when you think things over."

I touch my forehead and am surprised to feel my creased forehead.

"You're right," I say in bewilderment. "I do squint. That's so weird."

He laughs and picks a sunflower beside him, twirling it between his fingers absent-mindedly.

"So," I begin awkwardly. "How long have you and Justine been friends for?"

"Since we were little," he replies shortly. "Why?"

I shrug, trying to act indifferent. "Just curious. So you two are pretty close?"

He nods his head, but he keeps his eyes trained on the twirling sunflower. "She helped me out in the past with some family issues."

I remember the distant look on Mark's face yesterday and immediately regret my topic choice.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to open up old wounds."

He shrugs. "It's okay. But yeah, Justine and I are childhood friends."

I feel a brief moment of exclusion. There's no way I have a chance with Mark if they've been friends that long. Knowing boys' typical reaction to Justine, I wouldn't be surprised if she and Mark have already dated.

"That's all we are, though," Mark adds suddenly. "Just friends."

"Oh, I didn't mean..." I trail off and hold my hands up to my flaring cheeks.

He grins. "You know, you and I have known each other longer than you think."

I roll me eyes, smiling. "Let me guess. You've been spying on me covertly for a few years now?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. Then he stops twirling the flower and hands it to me.

There's an instant spark of recognition in that gesture, and I wrack my brain for the memory, but instead I'm left with this misplaced feeling of Deja Vu.

"Thanks," I say uncertainly, staring at the flower. I look up at Mark again and that's when it occurs to me.

"We did know each other!" I almost scream in surprise. "I remember you!"

He beams at me. "You do?"

I nod, then shake my head uncertainly. "Well, I remember coming over for a play date at your house I think... but I vaguely remember talking to you."

Mark shakes his head, obviously a little disappointed. "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. When your dad's missions became more dangerous, he decided it was best you weren't involved. I remember one day, you didn't show up to my parent's house. It was just me and Justine. I reckon we were all about five years old. I had asked your father where you were, but he just said you weren't feeling well. That's the same excuse he used every time after that, though."

"Keeping this from me was a mistake," I say quietly. "Now I don't even know how to defend myself."

"He was just trying to protect you, Audrey," Mark says gently.

"Yeah? Then where is he now?"

I regret the words as soon as they escape my lips, and an awkward silence settles between us once more. I glare at the flower in my hand, willing myself not to cry.

"So, that was the last time we saw each other?" I ask, trying to get the conversation rolling once again.

"Yeah," he says, though there's a slight waver to his tone. "That was the last time."

***

It's funny how fast time can fly. After our deep, meaningful and totally awkward conversation we had decided to walk around. No destination in mind, just enjoying each other's company. I'm also happy to say there were no more awkward silences between us. We talked about TV series we watched, movies versus books and which were better, embarrassing moments, funny stories... I could keep listing, but I honestly can't remember half the stuff we even discussed. Surprisingly, we have a lot more in common than I had originally thought, and now that I'm getting to know Mark better, I daresay that he almost talks more than Justine. Almost.

"You didn't have to walk me back," I say, taking out the keys and sliding them into the lock. "I know you have to keep an eye on me, but still."

He laughs. "Audrey, nobody forced me to walk you home. Erik suggested I keep an eye on you, not spend the day with you, and I don't know about you, but I had fun today." He continues before I have the chance to respond. "And no, before you start analysing this, I'm not just saying that. I really did have fun."

I laugh and we lock gazes for a moment before I open the door and step inside.

"Thanks for everything," I say over my shoulder. "I had fun too."

He waves before walking down the driveway. I close the door and stare at the sunflower still in my hand. Suddenly, that nagging memory returns.

A petite boy was standing by my old window at my parents' old one-story house.

"Pst, Audrey!" he called.

I walked up to my window and opened it. "Mark?"

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know. Daddy says we can't see each other anymore," I answered.

"Well," the little boy pouted. "Just in case you're right..." He held out a loose fist. "This is for you. Don't forget me."

On the palm of his hand was a sunflower. The little version of me grabbed the flower, but before I could say anything, a grumble came from outside.

"Hurry up!" Justine's childish voice whined. "My shoulders hurt. Mark, I'm going to drop you!" She threatened.

With that, Mark had hopped down, leaving me with the sunflower. That was the last time I had seen him.

I want to open the door and run after Mark. I want to tell him I remember the last time we saw each other, and that I haven't forgotten him. Before I have a chance to do any of that, however, my mum walks down the corridor towards me.

"Audrey! You're back and just in time. He should be here any minute."

The mystery date. I had completely forgotten about that.

"How was your day?" she asks, giving me a quick hug.

I nod my head, but I can tell she seems distracted.

"Answer the door when he arrives. I've just got to finish setting the table."

No sooner did she leave, I hear a knock on the door.

I cross my fingers and pray silently that this is the right guy for mum.

She deserves to be happy. Please let her find Mr Right.

I open the door, a smile plastered on my face, ready to welcome her mystery date inside when I stop short, observing the tall, slender man before me in an elegant grey suit.

"Oh my gosh," I gasp. "Erik?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

| Dedicated to  |

Her comments always crack me up! She always seems to find something funny to say, even in the saddest/spookiest chapters!

Wow! So close to 3K and it's only chapter 14! Can't thank you all enough.

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EDITED ✔