Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3)

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Why buy two of each?” That’s a rich question coming from the guy who had issues lending his toys, and sharing his drums, guitar, or any other object he owned.

  “For the same reason our parents always bought two or three of each.” He gives me a hooded glare. “You have trouble sharing and making decisions on what you want to do. This is college, not home.”

  He shakes his head, rolling his eyes in exasperation. The mane of dreadlocks dangles along with his face. “Dude, I’m not a child anymore. We’ll take one set and save some of that money they gave us.”

  I hang my head without uttering a word. He dares to tell me with a straight face that he isn’t a child anymore. The dreadlocks and Jamaican hat imply the opposite. The outfit he wears screams party: “I’m here for the beer, the sex, and whatever else they throw my way.”

  “Humor me, MJ. Let’s take both sets.”

  I plan on having fun too, because all work and no fun isn’t my game. However, he’s all fun and little work when our parents aren’t around. Just one reason why I’m hauling his ass. The main reason is because I have no fucking idea what I would do without him. This dude and I have never been apart. Never. Ever. And the thought of that happening this soon scares the shit out of me. I’m not ready to face the freaking real world without him. One day we’ll do it, but not yet.

  “As long as you do my homework, you can buy as many books as you want, Jacob.” I slam a hand on my forehead. That had been a stupid promise.

  He wanted to be an English major, a useless degree that would take him too long and would be a waste of our time, as we both want to pursue our music career. He made the right choice when I explained that the more time we spend in college, the more we have to push the release of our second EP. The band is our life. We started it two years ago, released a few singles and one EP, and toured with a couple of bands. Nothing too far from the West Coast, but we do have a small fan base.

  Pushing him toward finishing school with me was easy, as I’d promised to help him study, do his assignments, and be his personal butler for the first month. As far as I’m concerned, in a couple of years we’ll be as famous as our father, Chris, and we’ll hire our own butler. If we can stick to the plan for one entire school year, we’ll earn our freedom.

  “No, Mommy.” I hear a soft voice behind me. My ears tingle with the sound and it makes me look that way. “I’m telling the truth.”

  A black curtain of curls blocks the view of the female subject that piqued my interest. She holds a bunch of old books, and her eyes remain on the floor, even when I clear my voice trying to grab her attention. That’s when I realize she’s on the phone. I stare at her olive colored legs and the fun, pink Converse sneakers she’s wearing. Time to implement some of those moves I keep in reserve to lure a girl in. College awaits. If only I had done this while we toured—flirt with girls. However, Chris traveled with us and used his hawk-like vision, steering us away from trouble. The two times he was unable to join, he sent his trusted friend and bodyguard, Arthur Bradley. Unlike the other bands, we were escorted straight out of the venue once we had finished playing.

  College is the opportunity to expand my horizons, get acquainted with the opposite sex, and have sex. My brother elbows me, giving me a warning glare. Choosing to ignore him is a no-brainer. With a beauty like this, I couldn’t have picked a first college fling better if I’d tried.

  Ever since Mom stopped homeschooling me, the first day of school each year had become my personal Friday the 13th, but this year it’s been a flawless ride. The exception to the rule. I love college. So far, I’ve arrived to all my classes on time—a major accomplishment since I lack a so-called sense of direction. Mom says it’s a family trait from my father’s side. Every faulty trait comes from my poor father.

  Although, with technology, no one, including me, can get lost.

  As I look around the bookstore, I realize the crowd has increased in only a few minutes. The line hasn’t moved, but there’s a guy next to the dreadlock dude in front of me—did he cut in the line? I let it go. Not really worth fighting for the spot. Instead, I check the time on my phone. It’s time for me to make a quick decision before I upset my mother. Glancing at my booklist, I realize that Mom will have to live without me today; three of the ones I need are the last ones in the For Rent pile. There’s no way I’d leave the bookstore without renting them. We can’t afford new ones. Mom’s going to dislike what I’m about to say.

  “Pria, are you on your way home?” The low, disapproving tone sends a wave of shivers down my back.

  “No, Mommy,” I reply with the obedient voice she likes to hear. “The bookstore is swamped. There’s only one copy left of the books I need for the semester. Can you go to the doctor without me?”

  I know she can. My presence makes no sense, but Mom insists the entire family go with her to every appointment my sister, Maeve, has, because we have to be informed about her status. Like new health issues, courses of action, treatments, or medications. My sister has Cystic Fibrosis—a deadly disease we despise and fight daily.

  We have to be up to date when it comes to my sister. Twenty-six-year-old Mae hates that not only does Mom demand to go with her, but she drags Dad and me along too. In fact, she begs me to rebel against Mom—at least once. I love my sister dearly, but I can’t do that. Mom’s wrath only brings a wave of anxiety any time I witness it.

  “We agreed, Pria.” The disapproving tone is like a slap across my face.

  “But then we’d have to pay around six hundred dollars for my textbooks, Mommy.” The cost of the books hurts her bank account.

  There’s a sound between a gasp and an appalled cringe on the other line, but not a word. Money always wins when it comes to priorities. Well, no. First is my sister, then money, and then the rest.

  Maeve plans to live the longest any patient with CF has ever lived. I support her, cheering from the sidelines and also helping her with whatever she needs—or whatever Mom believes Mae needs. By now, though, having gone every month to the doctor for the past seventeen years, I’m sick and tired of going. Hovering over the doctor and Mae isn’t helping anyone.

  “You’ll make it up to your sister.” Mom finally breaks the silence. “I’ll update you when you arrive home. When will that be?”

  “I…” I shut my mouth, because I know that telling her that coming home is irrational—that I have my own room now—will spike her anger. “As soon as I finish, Mommy.” I grit my teeth and tilt my head, stealing another glance at the line. A snort escapes me. “Hopefully today. Give my love to Mae and Dad.”

  Flipping my cell closed, I realize the line has moved a couple of steps. I follow the guys in front of me, and for the first time I really look at them. Both tall, above six feet, with dark blond hair. One wears dreadlocks, a yellow, orange, red, and green hat on top, and a tie-dyed shirt. The other’s hair is an inch or so past his shoulders. Both wear loose jeans and military-type boots.

  “Do we pass inspection?” I lift my gaze, meeting a set of ocean-blue eyes that I could drown in if he’d let me. I blink once, order myself to compose my stance, and treat him with a casual shrug. “Usually we don’t, but a cutie like you can make an exception. Can’t you?”

  “An exception?” I have a hard time understanding what he means.

  “Our clothes and hair sometimes clash with the crowd.” He pulls a strand of his companion’s dreadlocks. “We don’t give a shit what they think, but I might care about what you think.”

  His companion turns, slapping away the other guy’s hand. “Never touch the hair.”

  Dreadlocks studies me with a set of sapphire eyes that have the same playful glint as his friend.

  “Twins?” I question.

  “No, triplets. The third one is in Teijas, Twinkle-eyes.” The guy that had first turned around lifts the tips of his lips. “She isn’t as handsome as we are, but rumor has it
she’s cute in that adorable kind of way. We all are, in our own way.”

  The smug smirk reminds me of a billboard, and I believe there’s a sparkle on those bright, white teeth.

  “Conceited much?” I look at both of them. They are handsome; in fact, they could be movie stars. “You might want to head to the supermarket and pick up a batch of humbleness and a pint of modesty.”

  “I’m only stating the facts, Twinkle-eyes.” He supports his weight on his left foot and leans toward me, his lips only a few inches away from me. “Let’s cut the crap. Give me your number.”

  “Wow!” I place a hand on my chest and fake sigh at him. “You’re dreamy. That line is the best I’ve heard. You had me at ‘cut the crap’. Would you like me to add my address too, while we’re going through the flow of this romantic ritual?”

  “Might as well, Twinkle.” He pulls out his phone. “It’s written in the stars. You and I are it. Destined to be together—forever.”

  I scratch behind my ear as I ponder what to do with the crazy words this dude is spitting.

  “Are you high?” I buy myself some time. How can I tell him to go simmer his Don Juan moves? “Drunk? Lost?”

  “High on you, my twinkle, twinkle, little star,” he sings. “We’re young, but in a few years we’ll be together.”

  “Right, together.” I pretend to go along. “Are we going for the cookie-cutter package?”

  His brows sink down and he crosses his arms.

  “Living in the ’burbs with our two-point-six children, a minivan, and a Golden Retriever named Max.” Then I stare at my books, tilt my head, and give him another exasperated glance. “Tell you what. I’ll rush to the library, sign into my account and switch my classes. I’m changing my degree. I need a job that will allow me to also become a soccer mom for our children.”

  “Is there an upgrade?” he responds, tilting his head to the left. “The luxury package. We can move to one of the islands and have half a dozen children. Two dogs: Maximus and Maxine. Forget about the soccer; let’s do hockey. I want my children to beat the shit out of other children in the name of sportsmanship.”

  My mouth opens slightly. Dreadlocks laughs at him, or maybe at me. The door I’d entered apparently wasn’t to the bookstore, but the Twilight Zone.

  “Which planet are you from, psycho?” Were they doing this as part of a bet, or to enjoy themselves while waiting for their turn? “Look, the royal jester isn’t in session and I’m not up for taking his place so you don’t die of boredom. Plus, our imaginary children won’t be playing a violent sport.”

  “I’m not joking. Well, maybe about the hockey. Violence isn’t my thing.” His blue eyes lose the shine and his grin dissolves, creating a frown—maybe a suave kind of appearance—as his voice becomes deeper. “I like your eyes. They’re pretty.”

  A laugh breaks through my sealed lips. The guy has the worst pickup lines in the history of the world. Unless he’s toying with me, which would make more sense. In my experience, tall, blond, and handsome is a species that searches for its counterpart—light eye color, cheery attitude, slender, and pretty. Not average height with unflattering belly fat, dull, dark eyes, and plain looks. I scan the area for cameras and wait for him to deliver the punch line.

  “Excuse the idiot. Our parents didn’t let us out of the house while we were growing up,” Dreadlocks says, rescuing his brother. “Our social skills are primitive. What my brother, Jacob, meant to ask was if you’d like to go out with him later today?”

  If that’s the case, it’s flattering to hear Jacob wants to go out on a date—with me.

  “No, Matthew, you don’t understand. I’m going to marry her,” Jacob insists with a serious pose. “We’ll have a girl with your twinkling eyes. We’ll name her Gabrielle. There are songs about your dark, Spanish eyes. However, I’ll compose one just for you.”

  Now he’s going to write a song for me. What’s next—buy me the sky? My mind debates between leaving and risking that someone else will rent the books, or listening to the nonsense of this Jacob guy.

  We study each other, then I move my attention toward his twin. Both are handsome, not much different from one another. The psychotic one has a scar above his left eyebrow. The other, a dimple on his left cheek. Both look familiar, but there’re too many dark blond, good-looking guys in the world to even think whether I have met either one before.

  “So, you’re a musician?” I question the school—no, the admissions department. How did they let him in? Then I take a look at his books: advanced business books. Neither boy looks much older than me, but they have senior class books. “I believe you’re buying the wrong books.”

  “This?” He lifts them, dragging my attention back to the books. “Nah, that’s our parents’ doing. They won’t let us play more gigs, record a new album, or go on tour unless we finish college.”

  “One year!” Dreadlocks high-fives his brother.

  “Then we’ll be famous.” Jacob directs his attention toward me. “Without A Compass. Don’t forget that name, Twinkle.”

  “Next.” Finally, a clerk calls the crazy brothers. Dreadlocks hauls Jacob over, ending our conversation.

  It doesn’t take more than a few breaths for my turn. It only takes a matter of minutes to finish the transaction. I sign the lease agreement for the books and pay the fee. As I turn around, I receive a text.

  Mom: The doctor wants to keep your sister overnight. Come to the hospital as soon as you can.

  This is normal, another round of tests, I tell myself. Then I pray, please don’t take her yet. Not Mae.

  When I reach the exit of the bookstore, I see them leaning against the glass wall.

  “What’s wrong?” Jacob asks.

  I shake my head and continue walking toward the bus stop. I hate that my eyes have a hard time keeping my feelings inside where they belong. Any time something bothers me, they give me away.

  “We can drive you wherever you need,” one of them offers. I don’t know which, as I refuse to look at them. “Twinkle, let us help.”

  “I just have to go to the medical center. It isn’t far.” I lift my gaze to check on the bus, which is arriving. “But thank you for the offer.”

  I board the bus that luckily arrives at that very moment. Mr. Psychotic and his brother had a good laugh at my expense while we waited to pay for our books. I won’t allow them to continue or God knows what will come of it. Shifting my thoughts, I send up a prayer. Oh God, please let my sister be okay.

  The doors of the bus shut right in my face and she disappears without letting me help. I said all the right things, didn’t I?

  “You scared the shit out of her.” Matthew states what he thinks is the obvious. “Too strong, man. Next time think about asking for a phone number. Marriage is a bit much.”

  I have no idea what possessed me to say all that nonsense. Her dark, intense eyes and that special twinkle that made her olive skin glow had hypnotized me. No—it had been everything about her. The long, raven-like waves cascading along her shoulders, and all those curves. Being eighteen justifies me wanting to behave like a horny teenager.

  “She shouldn’t be alone.” The worry about letting her go while she was crying weighs on my heart. “Can I interest you in going to the hospital?”

  “Nope. Our job here is done. We accomplished our mission. There’s no point in being out of my bed. It’s time for us to head home. There’s a nap that’s been calling my name and there’s no way in hell I’m ignoring it.” He redirects me toward our apartment. “That future wife of yours thinks you should be sent to a shrink. If I rest well tonight, I’ll help you find another victim to lose your virginity to because that one is never going to happen.”

  I grunt. Matthew never misses a chance to gloat and remind me that he had sex before I did. Our parents always talked about no glove, no love. Though they never believed we’d stay vi
rgins until we got married, they suggested we have sex with someone we love, to make it special. Matthew claims to love everyone, and therefore each time he fucks is special.

  Crazy dude.

  “AJ’s going to have a blast when I tell her the story.” He chuckles at his own twisted thoughts.

  Traitor. Why give ammunition to the princess of the underworld?

  I have a hard time keeping up with her comebacks. ‘Taunting the Sister’ is one of my favorite sports, but she’s hardly an innocent butterfly. AJ can take them and bash them back any day of the week, which is why my brother and I keep a few secrets from her. If not, she’d crush us like fragile glass.

  “How much for your silence?” His smirk is an indication I’m going to pay more than I want to in order to keep him silent.

  As the light turns red, we come to a stop and I automatically turn my head to watch the road where Twinkle’s bus had gone. There’s no trace of it and my heart sinks with the thought that we didn’t exchange phone numbers. My first attempt to score was a huge fail. Twinkle went from being my first possible love to a sour memory. The first one will always hurt my pride the most. It wasn’t as if I had fallen in love with her. Love at first sight is a myth, yet there’s something about her that my soul and my heart already crave.

  “I’m going to nap,” Matthew announces after we check today’s schedule.

  We have two more classes. The first one at four o’clock and the other at seven thirty. He slams the door to his room behind him, but not without a warning. “Do not start playing any of the instruments or you’ll regret it.”

  “I’ll head over to the studio then.” I close my laptop, pack it inside its case, and head out. “Don’t forget, class at four. Room three ten.”

  There’s no response and I make a mental note to text him. If he fails any class or doesn’t graduate, our plans are doomed.

  Driving to the studio takes me less than twenty minutes. I park behind the three-story brick building of Decker Records. My father, Christian Decker, founded it after his band, Dreadful Souls, broke up. Since then he’s been scouting musicians, producing records, and writing songs. He plays a few venues once or twice a year, a few new songs mixed with the old material he’s been playing since the beginning of his music career.