I sit myself on the couch, trying to calm my nerves. My heartbeat is skyrocketing for the second time today, and at the rate all these 'surprises' are going, Haden's gonna have to deal with a corpse by the end of the day.
"Can you just tell me what's going on?" I sigh, looking up at Haden's standing figure. He sat me down on the couch, but seemed too jittery to join, instead pacing the length of the room.
Mom left us to ourselves about five minutes ago. We are in my completely empty house, in the living room with the only noise filling the silence being my anxious breaths.
"I feel like you're gonna freak out," he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, eyeing me cautiously from the other end of the room.
I give him a look.
"But of course I'll tell you anything you want to know. Ask away." Even as he says it, I can tell he's nervous about having to answer my questions.
"Why did you move here?"
He lets out a deep breath, nodding as he walks over and takes the seat next to me. "So, about a year ago when we went to Paris, one of Daliah's models backed out. Broke his arm. She only had a few hours so in a panic, she made me walk the runway instead."
Aunt Daliah is a pretty well known designer, and she sometimes collaborates with other creators abroad. I know how panicked she can get sometimes, but her nephew, really?
"The runway," I repeat, my mouth slightly hanging open. "She made a 16 year old walk the runway?"
He chuckles, his eyes finally meeting mine in a smile, "you know how she is. They were already late and backup would've taken longer. Besides, I'd seen her shows for so many years, she was sure I could do it. Surprisingly, I really fit the bill and her co-workers were all impressed too. Then-" he pauses a second, either out of nervousness or for dramatic effect. If I had to guess, I'd say it's the latter. "-she told me I should look at modelling as a career."
Dumbfounded, I stare at him.
Just stare.
And as I do, I notice his sharp jawline, tan skin, the slight freckles splattered across his cheeks. I always thought brown eyes were boring, but not on Haden. Somehow, his eyes are a captivating chocolate brown, matching his soft, wavy brown hair. Then there's his smile. That silly but adorable grin that could charm even a horse.
Okay, maybe he does look a little model like.
"So you're a model now?" I ask slowly, my eyes narrowing the slightest bit. It's not hard to believe, considering more than half of LA comprises of aspiring models. And for him, it probably isn't that unachievable.
He scratches the back of his head, looking down with a shy smile, "not model, model. But yeah. I got signed a couple months ago, and they said I should move to LA for more opportunities."
"A model then."
"You could say that," he shrugs with one shoulder, finally lifting his eyes to look at me. "Daliah didn't want me to stay alone, which is why she asked your parents if they would let me live here for a while," he continues to explain, trying to gauge my reaction as he does. "If things don't work out within a year, I'll have to move back home, but yes. I'll try working as a model for at least a year."
"Congratulations," is my immediate response, even though I don't think I've fully grasped the situation yet. I'm happy for him and quite proud too. I know I am. Even when we were kids, he'd talk about those shows he attended so animatedly, like he really enjoyed the art of it. I didn't really get it, but he looked so happy that I didn't mind listening. I'm glad he's figured out what he wants to do with his life, and I'm glad he's passionate about it.
But why do I still feel dread?
I can feel the bile rising up to my throat, and I have to consciously push it down. This isn't the time.
He gives me that same toothy smile I always adored, years later and it's still the same. Cautiously, he asks, "you're not mad then?"
Not mad, just anxious.
"About you staying here without asking me beforehand and checking if I was cool with it?" I ask sarcastically instead, placing my hand under my chin in mock thought. "Why would I even think to be mad?"
His smile vanishes in an instant, and he lowers his head, "I'm sorry, I didn't know how you'd react."
For a moment I'm confused, "what do you mean?" I would've been happy to have him here, he knows that. Even if it scares me, I'm still glad to see him.
"You didn't call, Kyra," his gaze returns to my face, brown eyes piercing into me.
Oh.
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach, and it's my turn to look away. I don't know what to say. He's right. I said I'd call but I never did.
I cut him off.
"But it's fine," his cheery tone brings my eyes back to him. Looking at his forced smile, I know it's not fine, there's no excuse for what I did. Seeing him again in person just makes the guilt of it hit so much harder. "You stopped calling and I kept a secret. We're even."
I smile even though I know that's a messed up way of dealing with this. I'd just rather not have to explain my actions, and he clearly doesn't want to explain his.
Besides, when have I ever done the right thing, anyway?
"Sure, we're even."
*
"I don't want to."
"Just pass me the damn ketchup."
"No."
"Dana, I'm a minute away from slapping you!"
"You can try," she gives me a sugary sweet smile, taking advantage of the fact that Haden is seated between the two of us. Honestly, if he wasn't there, I would've.
Since I can't however, I do the next best thing, "Mom! Dana is being really annoying!"
My mother spares us a side glance as she tries to force food down our youngest sibling, Sean's, throat. "Do what she's saying, Dana."
Dana rolls her eyes, giving me her 'I can't believe you involved Mom' face. It's my turn to give her an exaggerated smile as she begrudgingly slides the bottle of ketchup over to me. "Drown yourself in it."
"Daniella," Mom reprimands in a distracted tone, but we both ignore it like second nature. It doesn't really matter. Dana can say whatever she wants, but I've won this round.
"Thanks, Dana," I add salt to her freshly wounded ego, and if it isn't the most satisfying thing ever. "Turned out to be pretty easy, didn't it?"
"Should've done it yourself then," she grumbles under her breath, shoving a forkful of pasta into her mouth. Usually she isn't allowed to eat as many carbs, but Mom wanted everyone to celebrate at this welcome dinner for Haden. So far, it hasn't really been extraordinary.
"Y'all are so annoying," Haden comments, glancing at me after a whole ten minutes of watching us argue as he ate his pasta in silence. His lips lift into a half smile despite his words. "Nothing's changed."
I keep quiet at that, taking a sip of water to avoid conversation. If only he knew how much I've actually changed, he wouldn't even want to sit next to me. If only he knew, he'd hate the person I've become.
My heart sinks at knowing that it's only a matter of time before he does.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. In a move to distract myself, I unlock my phone to find that I've recieved a text. It's a message from someone named 'Bio Guy' and I already know what it's gonna say before I open it. It's like the universe wanted to rub the truth of who I am in my face.
'You coming tonight?' the text reads.
I vaguely remember talking to him a couple times in Biology before he asked me if I wanted to hang out at his place. He was pretty hot and I didn't really mind so I said yes, but now...
I take in a deep breath, glancing around the table. Deciding it's best to stay home today, I type in a quick, 'Sorry, I'm busy.' before I pocket my phone.
"Ok, kids," just then, Dad speaks up, his loud voice capturing everyone's attention. "Since there are only four bedrooms in this house, your mother and I have decided to give Sean's room to Haden."
Sean raises his question at this new piece of information, "where will I sleep?"
Our parents share a look, then my mother says, "with Daniella."
My face breaks out into a full blown smirk. Without even looking at her, I can tell that Dana is boiling on the inside. She always does when things don't go her way.
"Why is it always me!?" Dana complains, anger clear in her voice.
Sleeping in the same bed as Sean is a nightmare. The little guy is like a kick-boxer in his sleep. Once I woke up in the middle of the night with both of his feet resting smack on my face. I would've sympathized with her if she wasn't such a brat.
"You have the bigger bed," Mom shrugs, immediately turning back to the task of feeding my 8 year old -and fully capable of eating himself- brother, cutting out any opportunity for Dana to argue.
"Fine." Her head is hung low as she stabs a fork into her plate of pasta, purposely not looking my way. That's defeat for Dana twice in a row. Must be sad.
"Is it always like this?" Haden's partly amused voice whispers in my ear, careful to not have anyone else hear him. My smile only grows and I turn to him with a shrug.
"Welcome to the family."