by Mia Belle
“Lia loves football, too,” Dad tells them.
I play with my sleeves. “Actually, I used to love it. I used to love a lot of things.” I meant to mutter the last part, but I guess they all heard because they shift awkwardly. Caleb’s curious eyes swing to mine.
Craig clears his throat, smiling awkwardly. “Aidan! Zane!” He throws his hands up. “It’s nearly impossible to get hold of Zane these days. He’s always hiding away in his room.”
I think back to yesterday, when he sat in his window. Spying on me, maybe? I’m sure he was spying on me and Sophie only a few hours ago.
Footsteps stomp toward us before the two guys show themselves. Aidan sits down while Zane just stands there, green eyes on me.
“Zane,” Julia says, giving him a look. “Say hello to our guests.”
He pushes some hair away from his eyes, giving me that lazy smile. “Welcome to dinner.”
Caleb and Julia leave to present the first course, which looks like asparagus soup. As I slurp mine, I feel eyes on me and I don’t need to lift my head to see who they belong to.
“This is excellent,” Dad tells Julia. “I’m ashamed to say it’s been a while since Lia and I have eaten a home-cooked meal. My wife was…she loved to cook.” Swallowing, he looks away. One thing Dad is great at is keeping his emotions inside. As principal, he needs to appear strict and tough, or else the students wouldn’t take him seriously. Right now, he’s got his armor on, but the pain in his eyes is as clear as day.
Dad quickly changes the subject to something school-related and the conversation is forgotten. As I’m eating the second course, I feel not only one pair of eyes on me but many more. When I lift my head, I catch all three guys’ gazes on me. Zane has that same lazy smile, Caleb looks curious, while his cousin seems concerned. About me? Why?
When he notices me watching him, Aidan twists away. Caleb gives me that girl-melting smile, but I force myself not to think about it. And Zane purposely keeps his eyes on me, even after I stare back, challenging him to avert his gaze. But he doesn’t. It’s like he’s having too much fun.
“Lia knows this town inside and out.” Dad turns to me. “She’s lived here her whole life and I’m sure she’d love to show the boys around this weekend.”
Why does Dad constantly do this to me? He knows I’m not in the mood to be social. That I just want to hide in my room with a good book. But of course I can’t refuse him. Especially when Julia and Craig are looking at me with kind eyes. Eyes that I realize aren’t filled with pity. Maybe they don’t see me as a poor orphan after all.
“Sure,” I say. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Zane dumps some mashed potatoes in his mouth. “My parents are always on my ass about being cooped up in the house all day. A tour around town sounds cool.”
“Zane,” Julia hisses. “Don’t talk like that in front of our guests.”
“And principal,” Aidan adds, also stuffing his face.
Dad laughs lightly. “I think I’d rather you guys see me as more than just your principal when we’re not in school.”
“Good,” Zane says. “Because it’s no fun living right next door to the prison warden.”
“Zane,” Craig warns, but he shrugs. Craig pushes a wide smile on his face. “Please ignore him.”
Dad waves his hand. “It’s okay. I try to stay out of things that aren’t my concern. What the students do after school hours is their business.”
We discuss many other topics as we finish up the meal. Caleb offers to clean up while Julia, Craig, and my dad gather in the living room to chat. I’m left at the table with Aidan and Zane. Zane, as usual, has that lazy grin on his face.
“I’d ask if you want to check out my room,” Zane tells me, crossing his arms over his chest, “but you’ve got a good view from yours.” He chuckles.
Aidan turns to me. “I’m sorry if I’m prying, but are you feeling better? About your mom and everything.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because that’s Aidan,” Zane answers for him. “Caring too much about everything and everyone. No matter how many times his mom asks him to sell or give away his superhero action figures, he refuses. He actually thinks they’ll miss him.”
A light pink color crawls onto Aidan’s face. “At least I care about others. Unlike you.”
Zane uncross his arms. “That’s bullshit. I care.”
“Got a funny way of showing it.”
Zane’s lips press into a hard line as he narrows his eyes at his brother. A few seconds tick by before he says, “Fine. Whatever.” He stands. “Going to my room.” He sweeps himself out of the room.
“Sorry about that,” Aidan says. “Zane could be a little intense sometimes.” He puffs out his cheeks. “We’re all a little stressed with the move.”
I don’t exactly know how to respond to that, so I let my eyes wander around the dining room. There’s a china closet pushed against the wall, with many pictures of the boys in various stages of their lives. From what I can tell, the two babies are the blond-haired cousins. There doesn’t seem to be any photos of Zane before the age of six. Maybe he was adopted then.
Aidan watches me, but I can’t understand the expression on his face. It’s still concern, but there’s interest mixed in there, too.
“Want to check out my room?” Aidan asks me. “Or maybe we can catch a football game on TV. You like football, right?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Right. Sorry. You told me you used to like it.”
“Yeah.”
The room grows quiet. I can hear Caleb rinsing the dishes in the kitchen before loading them in the dishwasher.
Aidan opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it. He opens it again and shuts it. It’s like he’s fighting an internal battle, maybe trying to help me feel comfortable. I don’t think that’ll ever happen when it comes to me and boys, but I should probably take him out of his misery.
“We can go to your room, I guess,” I tell him.
I wonder how many times he’s invited girls up to his room. I don’t know a lot about him, and honestly, he’s a little hard to read. Zane’s the kind of guy who doesn’t seem to play nice with others. And he’s pretty buff, which means he must work hard to keep himself fit. Caleb is on the skinny side, and spends a lot of his time in the kitchen, from what I’ve gathered so far. But Aidan is a complete mystery. He’s more muscular than Caleb, but no match for his adoptive brother.
Oh, god. I feel like Sophie, trying to figure each guy out. Like I’m trying to pick one out from a line of potential boyfriends. Nope. Uh uh. Never.
I still can’t forget what that jerk Josh did to me. And while these boys are super hot and kind of nice, I can’t lower my guard. They’re all the same. They sweet talk a girl and then hurt her. In more ways than one. No, I won’t go down that path again.
Aidan stands up, extending his hand. “Okay, let’s go to my room.”
Ignoring his hand, I make my way to the stairs. All the houses in this neighborhood are very similar so I know my way around. Besides, I can’t remember how many times the old couple who used to live here asked me to babysit their five cats.
Aidan walks behind me as we climb the stairs. He’s so close I can smell him. Soap mixed in with something else. The smell is nice, but I force myself to keep my distance from him.
Chapter Nine
Aidan
I’ve had my share of attention from girls over the years, and one serious girlfriend. So to say I know a lot about them would be an understatement. They’re all pretty much easy to read.
I can’t read this girl, though. Not to sound like a complete ass, but I’m used to girls chasing me, and wanting to be my girlfriend. I don’t remember how many times I wished I could fade away for a few hours, just to escape the spotlight. As much as I loved football, I hated everything that came with it. Yeah, I liked the popularity and the many friends. The respect of my classmates and even the teachers and parents. But girls
throwing themselves at me? No. It didn’t seem fair to them. Or even to myself. I’ve always wanted a girl who was deep, smart, and understanding, not just a pretty face.
It’s driving me insane that I can’t understand the girl leading me up the stairs to my room. Her eyes are still gloomy and I wish she’d talk to me. But of course she won’t. Who am I—a stranger—to expect something like that from her? Maybe Zane was right. Maybe I do care too much.
There’s just something about her. Something I can’t explain.
“Which room is yours?” Lia asks, squinting. “I know it’s not that one. That’s across from mine.”
I point my thumb to the left, to the only room with the door open. Zane and Caleb like to keep their room private, but I have nothing to hide. It’s not like we all don’t know what a loser I am right now. No sense in keeping it a secret. “This one. I think it’s across your dad’s room.” I laugh lightly. “It’s a little awkward to be honest.”
She doesn’t say anything as she peeks into my room and scans around. I spent a few hours last night furnishing my room to feel more like me, but I don’t think it ever will. I lived in my home back in New York for sixteen years, had lots of memories there. I know being tied to a room is a little silly, but my life was better off there. Sure it’s also got some bad memories, specifically the one that changed my life. But it was still my home.
Lia takes in the box dumped near the dresser and her eyebrows rise. “What’s that?” She bends down and her fingers close over one of my trophies. It’s the last one I won. Before everything changed.
Her curious green eyes meet mine. “Your dad said you played, but I didn’t know you’re this amazing athlete.”
I gently take the trophy. “Yeah.”
“Why are they dumped like that? Don’t you want to put them on your shelf?”
I study her for a few seconds and shrug. “Doesn’t really matter.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “It seems like a waste. I mean, when I was ten I won the spelling bee and my parents were so proud they hung photocopied papers of my little trophy all over the house. It was embarrassing, but I understand now that they were proud of me. Your parents probably feel the same.”
I drop the trophy in the box. “No. Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
I flop down on my bed. She stands in the doorway, her eyes flicking to the many posters of football players and teams scattered over the walls. I don’t even know why I bothered putting them up. All they do is make me feel like an even bigger loser than I already am.
“You can sit.” I motion toward my desk chair. That also is a waste of space. As if I’ll ever get my grades up. What’s the point? All my dreams for the future were shattered a year ago, when I had my accident.
Lia takes the seat, her fingers wringing in her lap as she continues to inspect my room. It’s like she’s searching for something. Maybe she’s trying to see me as more than just as washed-out high school football star.
“Why did you quit?” she asks. “Football, I mean. It’s obvious you love it.”
I search her beautiful green eyes. “You told me you used to love it, too. What happened?”
“I asked you first.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
She shrugs, beckoning for me to begin. I lean back on the bed, my hands fisting at my sides. Not in anger but in frustration. I haven’t spoken to anyone about this other than my parents. And that was only the bare minimum. I don’t remember how happy I used to be.
But there’s something about this girl that encourages me to tell her everything. Maybe I feel a connection to her. We both lost something special to us. I know I can’t compare losing my dream to losing a parent, but still. The words are fighting their way out of my mouth.
“I was captain of the football team last year,” I begin. “I was only a freshman, but yeah, captain. Everyone loved me. Everyone came to my games. Everyone expected great things from me. They predicted I’d have an awesome football career. I was…well, spectacular. Living the life.”
“Like any jock.” She rolls her eyes. “I bet you had girls hanging onto every limb.”
“Actually no. I mean, yeah girls flocked to me, but I never encouraged them. I’ve only had one serious girlfriend.”
She rolls her eyes again. “Yeah, right.”
I hold her gaze. “Can I ask why you hate me?”
“I don’t hate—”
“I’m trying to tell you about something that happened to me last year. Something terrible. And I thought you, of all people, would understand because we both lost something or someone we love.”
She purses her lips. “I’m sorry. I just assumed—”
I shake my head. “No. I’m sorry for getting worked up over this. I just hate…I’m not like that, Lia. I wasn’t the kind of guy who used girls and treated people like crap. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. “It doesn’t matter what I think of you. I’m not interested…I mean, please continue.”
“Okay. I was popular and I loved it. I never let it get to my head that I was this talented football player, but I enjoyed myself and all the attention I got. Who wouldn’t? I loved having all those kids around me. I loved being liked. I don’t know. It sounds really stupid now.”
She rolls her shoulders. “Not really. Everyone wants to be popular and well like by others.”
“And you?”
“I used to. Now I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of me.”
“Same with me. Sort of.”
It’s a complete lie. Without popularity, I’m nothing. Even after my accident and losing football, my friends never left my side. It proved to me that they were true friends. Now I lost them all because of this move. Not that I blame anyone, especially Caleb. He feels this is his fault, and while it technically is, no one blames him.
“What happened next?” Lia asks. “With football?”
I take in a deep breath and release it slowly. “It was last year—the biggest game of the season. I don’t know how it happened, but two guys slammed into me and I crashed to the ground. I hit my head pretty badly and was in the hospital for a few weeks. It took me a long time to recover.” I take in a deep breath again and exhale. “The doctors told me I can’t play football anymore. Said if I hit my head one more time, I could have a major brain injury. I might die. So no more sports for me and definitely no more football.”
She’s quiet as she stares into my eyes.
“All my dreams and hopes for the future are gone.” I run my hand through my short blond hair. “I’ve got nothing now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean, I know saying that doesn’t really help,” she says. “So never mind. I’m not sorry.”
That gets a small chuckle out of me.
“Okay,” she says. “You lost something you love, but I’m sure there are other things you’re good at. And you can always watch football on TV and go to games. I know it’s not the same, but…”
It’s sweet of her to try to help me feel better. People have tried that before, but it’s different with her.
“But that’s the problem,” I tell her. “I’m not good at anything.”
She gives me a look. “Of course you are.”
I shake my head. “I’ve never been good at school—and that’s not because I’m a jock.” I clear my throat. “Was a jock. I’m just not good at school. Or anything.”
She doesn’t say anything and the room is swallowed in silence. I don’t know what I’m expecting. For her to tell me I’m not a loser? We don’t know each other.
We remain this way for a short while before she stands. “I should head home.”
I give her a small smile. “Thanks for that.”
“Good night.”
I escort her down the stairs, wishing to say something, but I have no idea what. From what I understand, Lia doesn’t want anything
from me. Not friendship and definitely not something more. I don’t even know if I want a girlfriend right now. Sure I love the thought of it, but after what my last girlfriend did to me, I kind of need a break.
But not from Lia, though. I still don’t know why I have this overwhelming need to protect her. To make sure she’s okay.
Mr. Kelly and Lia bid goodbye to us before leaving the house. I watch them from the window. There’s a sort of stiffness between them. I noticed it during dinner as well. Her mom’s death must have put a toll on them. I can only pretend to know what they’re going through. Yes, I lost something I love, but I have two parents. Two loving parents who would do anything for me. This past year has been very hard on them, and my attitude hasn’t helped. I’m trying to be a better son. A better person. But I’ve got so much anger and frustration built up inside me. It seemed to vanish when I was talking to Lia, but it always creeps back to me.
Chapter Ten
Lia
Sophie is set to swing by any minute to prepare us for the party. I still have no interest in going, but I’m doing it for her. And like she said, maybe we’ll have fun.
I’m lying on my bed reading when a sound comes from the window. I don’t need to guess who that noise belongs to. I can see him from between the slats on my blinds. Why did I open them? If I can see him, does that mean he can see me?
“Hey, neighbor.”
I guess that answers my question. Maybe if I ignore him he’ll go away.
“Neighbor?”
I continue ignoring him.
“Is that book any good?” he calls.
What the hell is his problem?
Sliding off the bed, I strut over to the window and pull the blinds up. He’s sitting in his window, his legs hanging over the edge. There’s an opened sketchpad on his lap and a pencil in his left hand.
He looks up, giving me that lazy smile. He tips an invisible hat. “Evening, neighbor.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing. Can’t a guy sit out here minding his own business?”