I stared at my mother as I sat lost in thought. Her long fingers drummed over the counter as she waited for my approval. Her red hair was tied into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, resting right above a dainty gold necklace my father had given her for their fifteenth anniversary.
“My college acceptance letters aren’t even in yet, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, we already know you've been accepted to Stanford. Marcus called to let me know weeks ago.”
“What?” I squeaked, jumping up from the chair.
She waved me off. “Oh yes, you know our friend Marcus Kellens. He’s on the admissions board. Once he saw your name, he immediately put it in the acceptance pile.”
Disappointment came crashing down. “So, I cheated my way into a good school? Because you’re friends with Marcus?”
“Of course not.” My father walked in and began rummaging through the fridge for something. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and his dark-brown hair was rustled on his head, probably from running his hands through it during the conference call he was just on. “You’re accepted because of your hard work and dedication—something you obviously got from me.” He glanced at my mom and smirked. She rolled her eyes.
I always found it funny how my parents could work so well together in a business sense, but when it came to family dynamics, they lacked severely. I wondered if it was how they were raised. I had only met my grandparents a handful of times before they’d passed. Jason and I were younger, so I didn’t remember much from the meetings, but I knew they weren’t anything spectacular. There were no baking-cookies-with-Grandma memories in my childhood. There were no baking-cookies-with-Mom memories in my childhood, either.
“Your father is right about one thing: you are dedicated and a hard worker. We are so proud of you, Piper.” Her hand reached out and grabbed onto mine, and I was shocked. My eyes g
lanced down. When was the last time we had even touched? “Thank you for making the right choices.”
And there it was. That achy feeling I always got when my parents came around. It didn’t matter the situation or where we were, there would always be an underlying insult thrown at Jason buried underneath a compliment for me. Thank you for making the right choices. If only they knew I was showing up at illegal street races and sneaking into trailers during my spare time.
My throat was tight as I removed my hand from my mother’s. I gave both of my parents a brief goodnight before all but running up the stairs and down the hall.
Once I was safely tucked behind my bedroom door, I rested my head against it and took a steady breath. There were times that I’d wished with all my might that my parents would come home from their business trip so I wouldn’t be alone. But now, as I grew older and the resentment grew bigger, I found myself wishing that they’d just stay away.
Not only did I not know Jason anymore, I didn’t know my parents either. Our family was broken into puzzle pieces that no longer fit together.
I continued to rest my head against my door, willing my thoughts to stop for just a second. The night was young, but I felt like I’d lived an entire lifetime from the moment I woke up to now. I was mentally exhausted.
Just as I pushed off from my bedroom door, I heard a small ding from the balcony. I spun around and looked past the glow of my bedside lamp and zeroed in on something glowing outside.
What is that?
Another ding.
My feet padded over the soft carpet, and as I got closer to the door, my heart jumped like I’d been shocked. The glowing was waving back and forth, and when my eyes adjusted, I almost fell backwards.
The door swung open, and the cool night air wafted around me. “Ollie! What the hell are you doing on my balcony?! How did you even get up here?”
Panic rushed to my chest as I grabbed his hand and hurriedly pulled him inside. I shut the door quickly and ran over to my bedroom door and locked it.
When I spun back around, Ollie was casually sitting on my bed with his cheek lifted. My stomach fluttered. Something inside of me sparked from seeing Ollie in my bedroom.
I crossed my arms over my black tank, playing it off. “What is it with you Powell boys? Climbing into girls’ bedrooms whenever you feel like it.”
Ollie’s deft fingers ran through his light hair, making it even more unruly. It was a good look for him. Way too good. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”
I wanted to cave into him so badly that I felt it in my very core. Something softened inside of me, and that vulnerable feeling that I kept pushing away was creeping back as I stared at him from across my bedroom. He was sitting perfectly still on my white comforter, wearing the same dark T-shirt he had on earlier. His blue eyes were drinking me in, watching my every move. His face was relaxed, not a trace of playfulness on his features. He appeared cautious—probably waiting for me to lose it again, like a few hours ago.
My eyes dropped quickly, feeling embarrassed about earlier. I walked over to my desk and opened up my calculus book. “Ollie,” I started, flipping through the pages for the lesson I needed to study. “I am perfectly fine. Thank you for helping me earlier, but things are okay now.” I shot him a soft glance, and he was now leaning forward on the side of my bed, his arms resting lazily over his legs with a look on his face that made me shift on my feet. It was the I-can-see-right-through-you look that made me want to hide.
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
I glanced back at my book, focusing on the numbers so hard they started to blur. “Do what?”
“Why do you hide from me? Pretend you’re okay when I know damn well you’re not?” There was a bite to his voice, and I popped my head up, staring at the wall above my desk. “Do you thrive on being alone? Do you like not having anyone in your corner? It has to get lonely, right?”
A protective shield of anger was falling down in between us. My nostrils flared as I straightened my spine. I suddenly wanted the old Ollie back. It was a defense mechanism, I was sure, because the old Ollie who teased me and flirted only to turn around and flirt with someone else didn’t do this. He didn’t spit the truth at me. He didn't make me feel so seen.