I parked my car along the street, hitting the button on my key fob to set the alarm. Climbing the steps to the front door, I raised my hand to knock, and it pulled open before I could touch the door. Knox narrowed his eyes as he bit into an apple, a drop of juice running over his lower lip that he quickly swiped away with his tongue.
“I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“I live here, Princess.” He leaned against the doorframe before taking another bite.
“Are you going to invite me in?”
He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “I’ve seen the movies. If I don’t invite you, you can’t enter.”
He took a step back and began to close the door. I put my hand on it to stop it from slamming shut.
“Why are you such an asshole?”
“Some people think I’m charming,” he smiled before taking another bite.
“Tatum?” I called out as I stood on my toes in an attempt to see over his shoulder.
He rolled his eyes before taking a step back and making a sweeping gesture with his hand for me to come in.
“Thanks,” I grumbled as I looked around the living room.
“You know where her room is,” he replied as I walked by him and up the steps.
“Tatum?” I called out again before knocking on her bedroom door. I waited, huffing as I looked down the stairs to see Knox moving around in the kitchen. “Are you decent? I’m coming in.”
Twisting the knob, I pushed open her bedroom door, but it was empty.
I sat my small duffle bag on the bed as I looked the bedroom, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. The walls were lined with pictures of a happy family huddled together with giant smiles plastered across their faces. My family didn’t have pictures like that, candid shots of us enjoying each other’s company. Instead, we had staged paintings full of fake smiles and framed magazine covers.
Gathering my long, blonde hair, I wound it around my hand and twisted it up into a messy bun, securing it with an elastic hair tie. I wasn’t like these people and just being here made me feel like an outsider.
“Princess,” Knox called up the steps. “I forgot to tell you, She’s not home.”
“Where is she?” I called back. “Why didn’t she text me?”
“Maybe she’s busy.”
“Doing what?” I dug my hand into my purse and pulled out my phone. There were no new texts from Tatum, so I quickly messaged her to let her know I was waiting.
At your place. Where are you?
“I’m sure we can find something for you to do while you wait. How good are you at cooking?”
My phone beeped, and I read over the reply from Tatum.
Running late. I’ll explain later.
***
“Okay, I lied. I’m not a very good cook,” I admitted as tears streamed down my cheeks while pressing the blade of a knife into an onion. Greta glanced over her shoulder at me before letting out a soft laugh.
“That’s okay. Neither am I,” she joked as she stood up, groaning as her hand went to her lower back to ease some sort of discomfort. Knox walked over to her and bent down to place a kiss on the top of her head.
“You’re a great cook,” he told her before his eyes cut to me for a split second like he was angered I hadn’t told her she was a five-star chef. He pulled open the kitchen cabinet and pulled down a stack of plates.
“Riley can help me set the table if she wants,” he spoke up, and Greta looked to me.
“That’s fine. We can do some cooking lessons some other time. It’s imperative for a woman to know how to cook for her family.”
I hurried up and washed my hands, desperate to get the nasty smell off my hands.
“Here,” he stepped in front of me and held the stack of plates between us. I groaned and put out my hands. He smiled that annoying half-cocked grin as he placed the dishes in my hands. “Look at that, you’re already becoming a team player.”
I snarled and turned around, not sure which direction the dining room was. Knox pulled open a drawer and grabbed some silverware before walking around me. “Let’s go, Princess. I don’t have all night,” he called over his shoulder. Greta gave me a sympathetic smile as I followed after him.
He placed the forks and spoons in front of each seat. I followed behind him setting out the plates.
“This isn’t what I had in mind when we planned a girls night.”
“Not enjoying my company?” he asked as he ducked his head under one of the small chandeliers that I could easily walk under with no problem.
“Is that a serious question?” I asked, as I sat down the last plate and turned to leave the room. Knox wrapped his long, thick fingers around my bicep, stopping me from moving.
“Why are you here?”
I glanced down at where his fingers nearly touched as they wrapped around my arm and back up to him.
“I didn’t forget about our deal.”
He glared down at me before releasing my arm from his grip.
I stormed back into the kitchen with fire in my veins. Greta was busy with her back to me as she stirred something on the stove. “Need some help?” I asked.
“You can grab the cups,” Knox called from behind me, causing me to jump as he pulled open the fridge and grabbed a two-liter of cola.
“I was talking to Greta,” I groaned.
“Oh, it’s fine, dear. You go ahead and help Knox. I don’t know what I’ll do when I don’t have him here to help me in a few weeks.”
I glanced to Knox, wanting to ask where it was he was going, but I didn’t want to actually hold a conversation with him.
“Okay,” I mumbled, as I began to pull open cabinets to search for the cups.
“Next to the fridge,” Knox raised his chin, and I rolled my eyes as I finally found the cups. I grabbed a stack trying to remember how many plates he’d sat out at the table.
“Five,” Knox replied as if reading my thoughts.
I followed him into the next room and sat out the cups as he poured soda into four of them, leaving one empty.
“Where are you going?” I asked as I moved the forks and spoons to the other side of the plates. It was odd he hadn’t brought up leaving at all since I’d met him.
“What are you doing?” He asked as he watched me correct his work.
“You had them on the wrong side.”
“There’s a right side for silverware?”
“Yes, you uncultured swine. Were you raised in a barn?” He smiled, shaking his head as he twisted the cap back onto the bottle.
“Jesus was born in a barn,” he called out loudly enough for Greta to hear him as he walked out of the room. I followed behind him realizing he hadn’t answered my question.
“That’s right,” Greta replied. “And look at what he’d done with his life.” She smiled brightly at him, and I rolled my eyes. Did she seriously not notice how much of a prick he was?
“Where are you going?” I asked as he grabbed a few paper towels from the roll and tore them apart at the perforations. I didn’t miss the subtle glance to Greta, who shook her head and continued to stir whatever was in the large pot on the stove.
I followed him back into the dining room as he placed the napkins down. I groaned, lifted the towels and folding them in half several times until the stood on their sides like a small teepee, before placing them on the center of the plates.
“Let’s not talk about it in front of Greta. She gets upset.”
“Are you going to prison or something?” I joked, but he didn’t laugh.
“She just worries a lot.” He cleared his throat as he leaned on the high back of one of the dining room chairs, his fingers flexing and gripping the wood tighter.
I looked down at the extra plate, my brows furrowing as I looked back up at Knox. He groaned before rubbing his hand over the back of his hair, his bicep flexing under the short sleeve of his shirt.
“It’s not polite to stare, Princess.” He joked, but there was
no humor in his tone. His teeth clenched, and the muscles along his angular jaw jumped beneath his tanned flesh. He was worried about wherever he was going, or maybe it was just the fact that he was leaving.
“What kind of sports do you play?” I asked, hoping this wasn’t yet another question that was off limits.
“Who says I played sports?”
I shrugged looking down at his muscular arms. “You just… look like you’ve played.” Smooth.
“Football, but I don’t play as much anymore. Not since graduation.”
“How long have you been out of school?”
“I graduated two years ago. I skipped a grade.”
I nodded, impressed. “So you’re not as dumb as you look.”
“Dinner is ready,” Greta announced as she turned the corner, large pot in hand. “My famous goulash!”
“Let me get that for you, Greta,” Knox grabbed the container as steam rolled out of the top.
“You’re a good boy,” she praised him, and it was almost comical that she referred to him as if he was a child and he was at least two feet taller than she was.
“I try,” he replied as he sat the pot down in the center of the table. I gripped the back of the chair that I stood behind, but Knox nodded his head, motioning for me to sit in the seat to my right. I sank down on the chair as he scooped out a large ladle full of goulash onto my plate.
“Whoa, I can’t eat all of that,” I yelled and put my hand over the mountain of noodles. One fell off the giant spoon and landed on the back of my hand causing me to screech out in pain.
“Shit. Let me see it.” Knox rounded the table and took my fingers between his before I could protest. He looked over the tiny red splotch covered in tomato sauce before rubbing the edge of my neatly folded napkin over my skin. A welt was raised in its place. “Just hold still a second,” he said as he let my hand slide from his and hurried out of the room.
He was back in only a minute with a small tube of burn cream. He squeezed a little dab onto the pad of his finger, and I pulled my hand back, afraid it would make it hurt worse. He smiled as he took my arm and pulled my hand closer to him.
“Not as tough as you want everyone to think you are, huh?” He mumbled as his finger slid over the mark. I sucked in a hiss between my teeth as his rough finger moved over the delicate flesh but the burn was soon replaced with a cooling relief. “There. All better.” He pushed to his feet, winking before rounding the table back to his seat. He sank down in his chair, his arms flanking either side of his plate as he shoveled a large spoonful of noodles into his mouth.
“You eat like a wild animal,” I sneered, and he shook his head, scooping another large bite into his mouth as I picked up my fork and slid a few noodles onto the prongs.
“Force of habit.”
“I don’t think you’re in any danger of anyone trying to steal your food,” I groaned as I pushed my food around my plate.
“Riley, will you be coming to Tatum’s birthday party?” Greta asked as she wiped her already clean hands on her paper towel.
“Um…” I glanced to Knox, who had stopped eating and was now looking at me intently. I still hadn’t asked when it was, but she hadn’t mentioned it to me, but I could tell by the look on Knox’s face that I wasn’t welcome. “I’m hoping to be back in LA soon,” I shrugged as I took a sip of my already warm soda.
“Oh, that sounds nice,” Greta smiled. “It must be nice to always be in the sunshine and around movie stars.”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, but my gut twisted, unsure if and when I’d ever get to go back to my mom.
ELEVEN
Riley
After dinner, I made my way back upstairs, desperate for some time away from Knox while I waited for Tatum. I fell down onto the bed, inhaling the refreshing scent of the fabric softener that still clung to the comforter.
“Feeling better?” Knox asked, and I jumped, clutching my chest as I looked up at the doorway. He was leaning against the frame with his arms folded over his muscular chest.
“Does it matter?” I quipped as I pulled the hair tie from my hair and running my fingers through the long, knotted strands.
“I asked, didn’t I?” He walked across the room slowly, and I sat up.
“I’m fine. It’s hardly the worst thing.”
“Yeah,” he replied rubbing his palm across his freshly shaven jaw. “Want to talk about it?”
My eyes snapped back to him, narrowing. “You dropped a hot noodle on my hand. It’s hardly newsworthy.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” His head cocked slightly to the side. I knew he was talking about my dad proposing to Piper, but he’d made it clear he didn’t give a damn about me, and I wasn’t about to spill my family secrets to him.
“I’m not really up to sharing my feelings with you.”
“I’m just trying to be nice.”
“It’s really hard to tell.”
“You’re not exactly friendly, either, Princess.”
“Where’s Tatum?”
He shrugged. “I guess she just didn’t want to hang out with you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Is it so hard to believe not everyone wants to be around you?”
I pushed from the bed, my chest aching as I did what I learned to do best, drive people away. “Why are you wasting your time talking to me then? Go hang out with Greta and her imaginary friend,” I snapped, my eyes locked onto his as I refused to back down.
I expected an insult at the very least or even an explanation of why we had an extra place setting for someone they never expected to show up. I widened my stance, bracing for whatever was to come but he said nothing, just nodded slightly before turning and leaving, slamming the door behind him.
I sank down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs and I rested my forehead on top of my knees. I wanted to run from the house, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. As much as I hated Knox, he was still better than being around Piper.
***
I awoke curled in a ball on the thin, threadbare rug that lay beside Tatum’s bed. My body was stiff, and I groaned as I stretched my legs. I glanced over my shoulder to see the bright light of the moon shining through a few tree branches, causing shadows to dance across the walls whenever the wind blew. Great. I’d slept the entire evening away, and the bed was still empty.
I pushed to my feet and tiptoed over to the door, Cringing as the floor creaked under my weight. Gingerly, I twisted the knob and glanced out into the darkened hallway. The house was silent, and I breathed a sigh of relief that Greta seemed to have gone to bed for the night, and Knox was probably out kicking puppies or whatever it was he did for fun. At least I could sneak out and go home without having to actually face them. Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder, cursing Tatum under my breath with each step.
Slowly, I placed my toes on each step, testing it for sound before letting my full weight rest on the planks. This house was old but well maintained. Still, even with a lot of upkeep, it was hard to keep the wood from protesting after years of constant strain.
When I reached the bottom, I sighed as I slipped into the dark kitchen, freezing as the sound of a voice startled me.
“No rest for the wicked,” Knox joked, but there was no humor in his voice as he sat at the table, his back to me and his head hung.
“I fell asleep.”
“I wish I were that lucky,” he mumbled before raising a glass of brown liquid to his lips and emptying the contents down his throat in one sip.
“Well if you drink enough, you’ll pass out in no time.”
“That’s the plan, Princess.”
“You… ah… never mind.” Why would Knox want to talk to me after the way I’d treated him? Why would anyone? I began to walk toward the front door.
“This defensive act. I get it.” I turned around to reply but his face was sullen, and even I wasn’t that cold-hearted. He grabbed an ornately carved decanter and refilled his glass before pushing
from the table and grabbing a second cup from the cupboard. He sat it on the table next to his and filled it as well, gesturing for me to join him.
“It’s not an act. This is me, love it or shove it.” I sat down across from him, and he slowly looked up at me, a smirk playing on his lips as he pushed the extra glass across the table toward me. I let my bag fall from my shoulder to the floor where it landed with a soft thud.
“What’s this for?” I asked as I picked up the cup, taking a sniff and immediately regretting it. My now empty stomach turned at the strong liquor smell.
“A peace offering.” He lifted his own glass into the air as he waited for me to do the same. “Here's to being single, seeing double, and sleeping triple.” He downed the amber liquid, his glass slamming against the table before I could even process his words.
“Classy,” I muttered before drinking back my shot. A single drop fell from the corner of my lips and ran down my chin, clinging to my skin as I shuttered and sat down my glass. “That was gross.” I wiped my chin with the back of my hand, the alcohol causing my little burn to sting. “Shit!”
“That’s karma,” Knox quipped as he refilled our glasses, ignoring my glare.
“You know I’m not twenty-one, right?” I asked as he slid my glass to me.
“Neither am I,” he laughed sardonically before his smile fell. “You want to make a toast?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, unable to help myself and letting my curiosity get the best of me.
He shook his head before running his palm over his head. “No. The point of getting shit-faced drunk is to not think about what is bothering you.”
“Okay.” I ran my teeth over my lower lip as I tried to think of something to say. "Here's to you and here’s to me, may we never disagree. But…” I struggled not to smile as I felt my cheeks flame red. “If we do, fuck you,” I held up my glass. “and here’s to me!” I poured the liquid fire down my throat. When my eyes opened, Knox was smiling broadly as he sloshed liquid into both our glasses, not bothering to make sure he didn’t spill it on the table top.
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