by Zara Rivas
Sinclair stood at the other side of the room, sipping something out of a cup and scanning the room. His eyes landed on me and I made my way over to him.
"Skulking around? I thought I was the nightmare one," I said, nudging his arm with my elbow.
"Maybe I wanted to borrow your persona," he countered, glancing in my cup and then offering his to me. He had what looked like a coke. I shrugged and took it from him, offering mine. He accepted, and we each took sips of each others' drinks. His didn't seem to be laced with anything; it was just a plain coke. He made a similar face to mine upon tasting the punch and we traded drinks once more.
Finn popped up unexpectedly, grinning at both of us, and I nearly spilled my drink in my surprise.
"Finn, what the hell—"
"Is this the one?" he asked, ignoring me and grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat.
"Oh God," I breathed, trying to tug him away from staring at Sinclair. "Yes, he's the one, so can you please go away now before I cause you bodily harm?"
"Finn Lexington," he said, holding me at arm's length and reaching out a hand to Sinclair. "Brother of the exasperated one here."
"Xavier Sinclair." Xavier shook his hand back, and they let go at the same time. Finn released his hold on me and I marched the rest of the way up to him, my hands on my hips.
"So," Finn said casually, "has my sister tried to kill you yet?"
"Not quite," Xavier said, looking between us and clearly enjoying himself. "She's gotten a few good hits in, though."
"Ah, but you've countered." Finn tilted his head, watching him. "There's something to be said for that."
"Yeah, I guess there is." Xavier downed the rest of his coke. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Has she told you anything about the family?"
"Not really, but we haven't done much talking," Xavier shrugged, then paused, a bit of red tinging his face. "I didn't mean—I meant that we just now started getting along."
"Right," Finn nodded sagely. "If you knock her up, I'll have to kill you."
"Finn!" I hissed, shoving him hard. He didn't budge.
"I won't knock her up, then," Xavier laughed.
"Good man." He turned to me and started to say something, but began to chuckle and abandoned whatever he had planned to say. "You're so red right now."
"I'm sure," I grumbled. "Now go away."
"There you go with all the wounding words," he said. He kissed me on the cheek again and whispered, "Not too shabby, Sloane."
I flicked his shoulder and he left. Xavier looked bewildered, and I huffed and took his empty cup from him.
"I'm not sure what just happened," he said.
"I think he likes you, if that helps any," I supplied. I spotted Tyler waggling his fingers at me and Xavier noticed.
"Go, it's cool," he assured me, and I went back over to Tyler.
"You know those little bathtub toys, like sailboats and tugboats? Things like that?" I asked him.
"Yeah, why?"
"I feel like one of those stuck in the ocean right now," I confessed. "Everybody's pulling at my attention. Let's fix it."
I pulled him back out onto the dance floor after depositing the cups in a large trash bag, and we continued dancing the night away.
Chapter Ten
'Aggravation' was the word of the day. I had to get up early on Saturday on account of being called in to work, and although I didn't have a hangover, the lack of sleep was certainly enough to make me grumpy. Then Dominic was in the den when I woke up, and he had a bunch of just peachy news to give me. He sat in one of the armchairs, flipping through channels with a disinterested look.
Sleep-muddled and already in a bad mood, I slumped into the chair across from him and took in his grave expression.
"How's life in the Father-land?" I asked, resting my head on my arm.
"Dreary," he sighed. "But what else is new?"
I made a noise and we fell into silence. Dominic gave up on trying to find something to watch, so he turned the television to a cartoon channel. Tom and Jerry chased each other around the screen, and a smile tried to fight its way onto my face. It didn't quite make it.
"Logan's staying for a month," Dominic said, voice void of emotion.
"I kind of thought he might." I rubbed my eyes. "Doesn't make it any better. When does he get here?"
"In two weeks."
"Oh goody. Leaving?"
"The week before spring break."
"So we can still have the party." I perked up a little. I could spend most of my time at my friends' houses or crashing in Finn's dorm on the weekends, and I'd hardly have to see Logan at all! The prospect of only being around for his functions and maybe one or two "family" dinners was an enticing one, I had to admit.
"He's not bringing Daphne."
"What the fuck?"
"He says it would be bad for all of us," Dominic bit out, "but he probably just doesn't want Daph wanting to stay here."
"Why does he care so much," I said hollowly. "He seemed just fine with ditching me."
"C'mere," he said, patting the extra space on the chair he sat on. I pushed myself off my own chair and slouched over to him, crawling up on the chair and swinging my legs over his. He reached an arm around my back and pulled me in closer, and rested his head against mine.
"He's done a lot of shit things, Sloane," Dominic started talking, "but I think he really does treat Daph a lot better than he did us."
"Treat us badly? He would've had to acknowledge our existences to treat us badly."
"Neglect is still bad treatment," he murmured. I closed my eyes and relaxed a little, Dominic's hand rubbing my back making me feel better.
"Yeah," I said quietly.
We said nothing for a few moments, just sat there.
"Did you have fun last night?" he asked.
I thought back to the party and smiled a little.
I found Xavier again three hours later, glazed over drunk and talking nonsense. Or at least, I thought it was nonsense at first. He sat, sprawled out on the back steps of the Wells' house, cigarette dangling from his fingers and smoke breezing from his lips. He looked positively careless in that moment: apathetic, like a drone. I hadn't seen this side of him before, and at first glance I decided I didn't much like it.
He surveyed the back yard with disinterest, a clinical eye turned to his surroundings. There were people dancing, people in the heated pool, people mixing drinks on the side tables, and it was all rather festive to me. I sat down next to him on the steps, careful to not flash anyone with my skirt, and said nothing.
"What do you see?" Sinclair asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"I see you smoking," I smiled. "I didn't know you smoked. Terrible habit."
"I smoke probably a pack a year. Don't worry about me." He turned his face to me and I saw that his eyes were a little bloodshot and glazed over. "What do you see?"
"I see you," I said softly. The tense lines around his eyes softened slightly. "What specifically are you talking about?"
"This party."
"I see…" I looked around, carefully assessing everything. "I see people talking and laughing. Drinking. Swimming. People making up and breaking up, people who will sleep together tonight and not remember it in the morning. I see people I've known since they were in diapers."
He was watching me talk, I realized. Carefully watching my face, my hand gestures, my expressions, and it was nothing new except it felt more concentrated than usual.
"Why? What do you see?"
The cigarette glow lit up his face, and he exhaled slowly. He shook his head, refusing to answer.
He looked as though he were concentrating on rearranging his facial expression to be more cheerful, and the dead look slowly left his face. He stood up, offering his hand to me. I accepted it gratefully, brushing the gravel off the back of my skirt, and we walked towards the back door. I didn't know if he just forgot he had my hand in his, or if he did it consciously, but he didn't let go.
/> "Oh, you know," I said noncommittally. "It was alright."
oOoOo
The diner patrons were all bitchy little whiners for the entire day. I didn't know whose shift I had to pick up, because I didn't bother to ask Mr. Elleson, but if I found out I would rip them a new one if they didn't have a good excuse.
The entire day, it was all "excuse me, miss, but this table isn't satisfactory" and "don't you have any vegetarian meals?" or someone saying with a wrinkled nose, "I don't like your menu items."
I barely contained myself when I felt like saying, "Why excuse me, lady, for working at a diner. You know, one of those little places that serves greasy burgers and fried foods and delicious milkshakes. Pardon me for not going all South Beach for you. And don't eat here if you don't like the food, dipshit!"
Needless to say, by the time I got off, my temper was running short and I felt like my fuse had been chopped down by several feet.
Surprisingly, it was quite a relief when I walked out (while wrenching my apron off furiously) that I saw Sinclair leaning against the wall outside. The sky was darker than normal for the time of day, and thunderclouds dominated the horizon. I smiled inwardly: a thunderstorm would fit my mood perfectly, and cheer me up at least a little. Sinclair raised an eyebrow at my struggle with the apron.
"You realize it can't fight back," he drawled, reaching out to untie the knot I'd tangled it into.
"Shut up and get me out of this thing," I growled, continuing to fight with it.
"I'm always good for getting you out of clothes, you know that right?" His eyes sparkled. I said nothing to that, and he grabbed my wrists and pushed them down to my sides, and worked at the knot himself. It finally came loose and he pulled the apron over my head, handing it to me with a smile.
"Thanks." I shoved it in my bag and resolved not to look at it again for the next several days—at least not until I had to work again. "What are you doing here?"
"Picking you up."
I tilted my head and gave him a funny look. "I have my own car, you know."
"Dominic came and got it," he grinned. He held up his motorcycle keys and jingled them. "Need a ride?"
I sighed. "Seriously? You've now met two of my brothers and I wasn't even there for the most recent one?"
"Looks like it," he said breezily.
"Lead on, then," I said, weary.
oOoOo
He didn't take me home like I expected. Instead, we pulled up in front of an ornate mansion-looking building, which I assumed to be his house.
"Welcome to Maison Sinclair," he said by way of introductions to the house. Sinclair pulled off his helmet and hooked it to the motorcycle, and gestured that I should do the same.
"Please tell me there are turrets somewhere on this building," I said dryly, observing the sheer vastness of the property. The front was a series of arches and columns, all in a stoic white, and it looked like there could have been a statue of a Greek god right in front and it wouldn't have seemed out of place. The driveway wound around a massive fountain with statues of mermaids and kelpies holding jars which poured water.
"Okay," Sinclair announced, stepping foot over the threshold. "Important rooms: the kitchen, down the right hallway and to your left. Bathrooms: well, they're everywhere. Just start opening doors and you're bound to find one within three tries. And my room," he added, raising his eyebrows comically, "is upstairs. This way, m'lady."
I rolled my eyes. "Smooth, Romeo."
I followed him nonetheless, and marveled at my extravagant surroundings. These people were what my father would probably refer to as nouveau-riche—they had money and they wanted to flaunt it in every possible way they could. New money. Regardless of how old their fortune was, their decorating was definitely gaudy. From Xavier's obvious distaste for his surroundings, I gathered that he didn't much like his home.
The stairs in his house, or at least the staircase he led me to, were dark and cramped, and in a back corner of the house. I didn't mind, but it was certainly strange. We reached his room and he opened the door with a gesture that made me think of someone saying "ta-dah!" to a guest.
There was one word for his room: awesome. It kind of reminded me of mine, actually, except a lot messier and artfully mussed. He had abstract photographs in black frames all along his walls, lots of windows in his room as well, and an arched ceiling that looked Gothic. Piles of laundry lurked in corners, and the contrast between his pristine bed and desk and this made me smile.
The rumble of thunder sounded through his room, at such a low note that it made the windows vibrate slightly. Sinclair closed the door behind us and I sat down on his bed, facing the windows.
"So, this is my room, welcome, and all that."
"It's a really nice room," I shrugged. "Are your parents home?"
"They're hardly ever here. They both run the successful business that keeps this house up and running." He said it with distaste, and the words smacked of an oft-said phrase.
"Which would be?"
"They're the CEOs of a company that sells medical supplies."
"Sounds interesting."
"It's pretty boring, if you ask me," he said, flopping down on the bed behind me and stretching out.
"To each his own, I guess." I ran my hand across his bedspread. "Where's your sister?"
"Probably at your house," he grinned. "Or else I have a feeling your brother wouldn't have been so eager to get rid of you."
I snorted and shook my head. "Sometimes he acts a lot like Finn. It surprises me when it happens."
"Your brothers seem pretty cool."
"They're acting weird around you," I confessed. "At least Finn is. He's never that carefree around the guys I date." I eyed his satisfied smirk and qualified that statement. "We're not dating, Sinclair. I just meant the guys I introduce them to."
"Sure you meant we're not dating," he teased. He stopped abruptly, watching me watch the darkening sky through the window. "Something wrong? You're more…subdued today than usual."
"Just a bad day," I said softly. Changing tracks rapidly, I turned to him and said, "We should play twenty questions."
It was his turn to snort. "What, that game where we keep asking each other things and then bam! I'm Napoleon? Or some shit like that?"
"No, just asking each other questions. Straight answers only. We do have to get to know each other," I reminded him, "and although you know a lot about me and my friends, I know next to nothing about you."
"Okay." He sat up, scooting so his back touched the wall. "Who starts?"
"You can."
oOoOo
"Favorite place in the world?" Sinclair asked, munching on some cereal straight out of the box.
"So far? The mountains. Especially the Colorado mountains, they're gorgeous. I love how it can be so warm and sunny at the foot of the mountains, and then you get to the top and there's still snow up there. I threw up once because of altitude sickness, though. Not fun." Sloane was stretched out on his bed across from him, and reached out an arm. "I really want to go see those lakes and rivers with the glowing algae, though. Stale cereal, please."
He handed the box over with a smirk. Rain lashed against the windows, and the lightning that cavorted around in the clouds reflected pleasantly around the room. Xavier had turned off all the lights except the bedside lamp so they could watch it.
"Hmmm," Sloane said, grabbing a few pieces of cereal. "Favorite family member?"
"My sister would kill me if she heard me saying this, but my cousin Jace. He kind of reminds me of Finn," Xavier said, mouth full. "Always popping up out of nowhere with something odd to say."
"Gross, swallow before you choke," Sloane said, batting at his arm.
He answered with a devilish grin. "That's what she said."
"Oh very classy."
He waved away her attempt to hand him the box again. "I've got one…who did you lose your virginity to?"
Sloane froze, staring at him with wary eyes and her hand halfway in the box.
She pulled it out slowly, empty, and contemplated his expression.
"Why do you want to know that?"
"Ah ah," he said. "It's not your turn."
"Fine, then." She took a deep breath. "Actually, it was Tyler."
"Tyler? As in gay Tyler?" Xavier looked genuinely surprised.
"Yeah." Sloane set the box down on the floor. "It was a few years ago. He wasn't even completely sure he was gay, and we were just stupid kids. It was kind of a joint idea, because we were just talking about how scary it seemed and how we still wanted to do it anyway. So…one of us suggested it and we ended up doing it. Neither of us ended up scarred for life, so I guess that's good," she shrugged.