by Kylie Key
"In here, honey," she said from the living room. I could see a glimpse of the back of her head sitting in the recliner.
"You'll never guess what," I called, taking a glass from the cupboard. "I think the new neighbors have moved in." I opened the fridge and poured myself an orange juice. "When I was leaving, a big black car was pulling in and it wouldn't stop. I had to reverse back. What an idiot. Don't these people know-"
I stopped dead as I entered the living room, glass in hand. Mom wasn't alone. There was a woman sitting on the two seater to Mom's left and opposite her, on the couch, was a boy. A teenage boy.
Mom's face was stuck between a grimace and a smile. "Selina, this is our new neighbor, Ms Crawford-" Her voice was lower than normal. She nodded towards the immaculately groomed woman with a short blonde bob, wearing a red patterned dress and cute red sandals. A Chanel bag was beside her.
"Call me Millie," the woman said, her tone smooth and silky, like a television presenter. She extended her hand and I had to quickly put my juice onto the coffee table. "Pleased to meet you, Selina. I hear you're the same age as Cole."
She indicated to the boy on the couch. It was with apprehension that I looked over to meet his gaze. Because at first sight, he had already made my heart race. He was dressed all in black—a t-shirt, and jeans with holes in the knees. His hair was dark brown, short, a part swished to the side, his cheekbones unfairly defined and angled, his lips full and pouty. He rose off of the couch, his full height towering over me. He reached out his hand, his dark eyes drilling into me, and said, "Cole Parsons."
Leaning across the table, I gripped it weakly. He clasped it firmly, squeezing it.
"Hi," I squeaked, trying to release my hand, but he kept bouncing it up and down like we were executives in a business meeting. I lost focus, staring at the vein on his inner forearm.
"Cole's at Hillcrest Prep," I could hear Mom saying, "he's a senior too. And there's another brother, who's Charlie's age."
"Yes, Ryan," Millie said, "he's at his judo class.” I nodded; for the second time that day I'd lost my voice. "And that would've been Cole's car," Millie apologized, and then she directed to him sternly, "Cole, be more considerate next time."
He suddenly let go of my hand, catching me off balance. I stumbled backwards, stretching out the fingers he'd almost crushed.
"My bad," he said, thick with sarcasm, as he glared at his mother.
"You're at the local high school?" Millie asked. I nodded, my throat had seized up. "You're absolutely adorable, I bet you're popular."
I smiled, loving the praise. There was no need to correct her.
Mom, however, killed my moment of glory. "Selina's very studious," she said, "she's an excellent student," and she gabbled on brightly about SAT scores and the AP courses I was taking, making me sound boring and a nerd. I could tell Cole was casting his eye over me, from my beet red face, down to my skinny jeans and dirty white sneakers. I dared not meet his gaze, my face plastered with a fake smile, my airway constricting completely.
"Selina's got a lovely group of friends," Mom was now saying, "I'm sure they'd be happy to show Cole the local hang outs." She giggled at her attempt to speak in teen lingo.
"Not sure we'd-," Cole made a deliberate pause and accentuated the next two words, "hang out in the same places," he said, his callous tone making me turn to him. Who did he think he was, some sort of hotshot? That I was beneath him? I sent him my death stare, but his smoldering eyes told me he didn't care one bit.
And in that instant, I knew Cole Parsons was someone not to be messed with.
That Cole Parsons lived by his own rules.
THE INTRODUCTION TO Cole Parsons had me so riled up that it wasn't until later that I remembered that Michael Hayman had asked me on a date, and I'd rejected him.
Ainsley screamed down the phone, "Why'd you do that? Whhhhhhyyyy? He's so cute."
It took a few seconds for my ear to recover. "Yeah, he's cute," I said, "but we don't really have a connection."
"That's why you date," Ainsley said, fraught with disbelief, "so you can find out about each other."
"I mean, we really don't have anything to talk about. It's hard to have a conversation with him," I said. "We literally only have one psychology class in common." Cole Parsons had spoken more words to me in ten minutes, than Michael had said all year.
"You're both seniors. At the same high school, I'd say that's three things right there," Ainsley said, unfazed.
It sounded like she was grasping at straws, but it was probably one more thing than I had in common with Cole Parsons, I thought to myself. Why was I even thinking about him, that cruel, heartless, unkind boy who considered himself superior to the human race? Who didn't know how to drive properly? Who had blazing eyes and the physique of a Greek god? Who had...
"Sleeeena? Are you there?" Ainsley screeched into the phone, shattering my trance.
"What? Yes. Of course," I reluctantly returned to the real world, extinguishing all thoughts of Cole Parsons. "I've got too much study to do," I said, "exams aren't far away."
"They're a month away," Ainsley said.
"Twenty two days," I said crisply, unwittingly confirming my nerd status.
"Okay, twenty two days," Ainsley sighed in frustration, "but you're not studying tonight are you? You're coming round to Domi's house?"
"Yes," I said.
"We'll talk about it then," Ainsley said, meaning my non-existent love life was going to be analyzed and dissected, whether I liked it or not.
CHAPTER 3
The next morning I lazed in bed, exchanging messages with my friends in our video group chat. The talk was centered on Ella and Damon, who we had witnessed as a couple for the first time. Damon was in his first year at college up north, and he and Ella had gotten together at the end of summer. Being Dominique's older brother, Damon had been a fixture in our lives for years, but he'd never been considered boyfriend material. For one, he had dated Lauren Nixon for most of his high school years, and two, he was the off-limits big brother. Yet somehow, their combined love for singing and music had brought them together. It had been totally unexpected, but after last night, it was obvious they were made for each other.
Both as a singing duo and a romantic couple.
I liked that Ella was the focus of attention, because I’d been put under scrutiny the night before. I thought the minor, inconsequential information about being asked on a date by Michael Hayman would be overlooked. I certainly didn't intend to mention it. But big-mouth Ainsley couldn't help herself. And the chatter rose to crescendo level as everyone was intrigued to discover I'd turned Michael down.
"I thought you said he was cute," Ella said.
"He is," I said, "but we have nothing to say to each other. Luckily you were singing so we didn't have to talk."
"That's why you date!" Ainsley reiterated, her eye roll overly dramatic.
"You could have given him a chance," Trieste said, "try to get to know him."
"I dunno," I said, trying to act nonchalant, "aren't I supposed to get a vibe? I wasn't getting a vibe from him."
"The boy asked you out," Ella exclaimed, "there's gotta be some sort of vibe going on! Didn't he look dreamily into your eyes?"
"Is that what Damon does to you?" I asked, hoping we could all stop talking about me and Michael.
Ella winked with an enviable confidence. "So, no racing heart?" she jested. She had been the last of us to be kissed, yet was now an expert in the subject.
"I'll tell you who gave me a racing heart," I said, desperate to change the topic, "our new neighbor. He came speeding down the driveway, wouldn't back up and made me reverse. I thought I was going to crash Doris into the fence!"
Everyone groaned sympathetically as I vaguely told them about the arrival of Cole Parsons, a Hillcrest Prep student. That garnered more groans. Hillcrest Prep was a private school, no doubt he was as stuck up as its reputation. The kids wore blazers and ties and if you saw them at the mall they looked d
own on you like you were annoyingly breathing their oxygen.
It slipped my mind to mention that he was tall, dark and mesmerizing.
Our chat ended as we organized to meet at Ainsley's for lunch. I wandered downstairs in my pajamas, finding Mom cooking up a storm.
"Have you forgotten we've got lunch at Aunt Vicky's?"
"Oh," I said, carefully selecting a blueberry from the punnet on the counter. "I can't. We're meeting at Ainsley's. To Hang. Out."
Mom's lips tightened and she whispered. "Mmmm. He was a little intense, wasn't he?"
"A little?" I dipped my finger in the muffin batter she was mixing.
"They've moved from the Hills," Mom said, her voice low, "the marriage broke up. I think there's a bit of an adjustment to be made."
"Oh," I said. That might explain things. The Hills was the exclusive neighborhood, the one with multi-million dollar mansions, landscaped gardens and pools three times the size of ours. As nice as our neighborhood was, Cole Parsons had certainly downgraded.
Mom shooed me away, increasing the vigor of her beating. “George, did Selina tell you she turned down a date yesterday?" Her eyebrows raised. "From a boy."
George looked up from his laptop, with an exaggerated expression of surprise. "What? From a real boy? A real live boy?"
Mom nodded. "Yes. Point blank turned him down."
"Wow, harsh," George said, “I suppose the boy's nursing a broken heart now."
I scowled, beginning to regret I'd told her. I should have known they'd make a big joke about it. Mom abandoned her mixing bowl and put her arms around my shoulders, holding me as she laughed uncontrollably. "Aw, hon, you're so cute."
"I didn't turn him down point blank," I defended, "I told him I had plans already."
"That's good," George said, "make him sweat a little. You don't want to appear too keen."
"Hmpph," I huffed, "you're ridiculous."
Mom pinched my cheek. "You're growing up so fast sweetie. Daddy and I just want to share every moment that we can."
"Yes, every single moment," George said with silly glee, as he pulled me onto his knee, rubbing his beard all over my face.
It was our own little thing between us—for the past year I'd been mocking his beard, telling him he was trying to look hipster cool. He always responded by brushing his whiskers all over me. I didn't really mind, but I feigned disgust at the scratchiness on my skin. Though not my biological dad, George had raised me from the age of four, when he'd met Mom. I couldn't remember my real Dad, who had died of stomach cancer. My Mom and Dad had been high school sweethearts but he'd gotten sick in his first year of college. Medical appointments and treatments ruled their lives, but they battled through to finish their education. I was their miracle baby, my conception against all odds because of the chemo he'd had. Sadly, the cancer came back when I was a year old—there was no remission that time.
Mom says George rescued us, literally. Our car had broken down on the side of the road and Mom didn't have her cellphone (yes, there was a time when people went out without their phones). Mom was flustered and panicking, and I was crying in my car seat. It was almost an hour before George, a roading engineer stopped. Seems Mom had let the radiator run dry. It was a simple fix, but I often wonder if subconsciously it's the reason I'm scared of driving. Like some part of me remembers that stressful day and hates cars because of it.
"So, what was wrong with this boy," George asked, "why didn't you want to go out with him?"
"I dunno," I shrugged, fighting to get free from his prickly face. "I just don't think we have anything in common. We were standing together at Ella's gig, but we hardly talked."
"Well, it can take time to get to know someone," Mom said, going back to her muffin mix.
"I think you're right not to jump in," George said, releasing me with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Maybe get to know him at school first."
"Oh wow, am I supposed to take dating advice from my father?” I expressed mock disdain. “By the way George, did you know you've got oatmeal in your beard?" I called, as I laughed my way into the living room.
I intermittently called George Dad, or by his name—there was no pattern to it. Both Charlie and Hayley, my little sister, did too. He didn't mind.
I was expecting to see my twelve-year-old brother planted in front of the television screen; I wasn't expecting him to have company—not this early.
A kid I'd never seen before was sitting next to Charlie, controller in hand. My heart rose into my mouth, because in an instant I guessed who it was—Cole Parsons' little brother. His hair was lighter and longer, and his cheeks chubby, but when he looked up at me, there was the same dark eyes, same perfect nose, same full lips.
Chewing gum with an open mouth, he smiled and said, "Hi there. I'm Ryan."
"Parsnip," Charlie said, without taking his eyes off of the screen.
"Parsnip?"
"Ryan Parsons." He introduced himself with an emphasis on his last name.
"Ryan Parsnip," Charlie said, howling with laughter. Typical, they'd been friends all of five minutes and Charlie already had a nickname for him. He quietened down and said, "That's Selina."
"I guessed," Ryan said, glancing at me from head to toe, with a trace of a smirk. "Nice pajamas," he said with a childish giggle. Well, he was a child.
I crossed my arms across my chest, hiding SpongeBob SquarePants, which until now, had never caused me any embarrassment. It might be silly, a seventeen year girl still fangirling over a cartoon character, but my favorite photo of me and my Dad had me wearing a SpongeBob onesie. I'd had a SpongeBob blanket on my bed right up until high school, and I still snuggled the pillow I'd won at a fun fair years ago.
"It's all right," Ryan said, with the intuitiveness of someone more mature, "Cole's a fan too."
I felt my face flushing, though I wasn't sure if it was the acknowledgment that I was a SpongeBob fan or the mention of Cole, or the realization that we had something in common.
"See ya later," I muttered, scuttling away before Ryan noticed my reddening cheeks. I leapt up the stairs two at a time, almost crashing into Hayley on the landing. She was precariously carrying a tray of her collection of little llama toys. Hayley's obsession of all things llama eclipsed her obsession of all things pony from last year. And puppies before that. The girl was a chronic collector.
"I'm showing Ryan," she said, "he doesn't have any llamas."
"Cool," I said. Seemed Ryan had already made friends with the whole family. Pity his brother wasn't so likeable or affable. It seemed inconceivable that they shared the same blood, and how somebody who liked SpongeBob could be a mean, idiotic jerk was a mystery that didn't fit.
The afternoon was spent cheering up Ella, who had farewelled Damon on his long drive back to college, and being a guinea pig for Ainsley's makeup tutorial for her YouTube channel. Consequently, I arrived home looking like I was ready to walk the runway.
Mom texted to say they would be back in about an hour, that they were stopping at the mall. I decided I'd hit the books. With exams only weeks away, I wanted to get on top of my study.
I had always done well in school, never top of the class, but I had a good memory and aced my exams. But with college applications imminent, I needed to step things up.
I'd been a little bit slack in the last year, not putting much effort into my piano lessons, and now it was showing. Ella had streaked ahead me in terms of playing ability, even though we'd started out at the same age. And she was composing music and writing songs. It was the same in tennis. I'd taken lessons with Ainsley and Dominique when we were younger, but never followed through with it. Even Dominique's six year old niece, Daniela was better than me.
I had dropped out of the Environmental Club because I hadn't wanted to overload myself. It had a lot of excursions and weekend events and I didn't want that level of commitment. I'd joined the Yoga and Wellbeing Club instead, which met once a week and I'd started going to a yoga class at the gym. I felt like I'd found
my niche with gentle exercise.
I also did babysitting around the neighborhood, but since the Singhs, my best clients had left, my work had all but dried up. Unfortunately, it seemed that Cole Parsons wouldn't need babysitting.
I put on a cardigan and took my books outside to the swing. The temperature had dropped a little but the afternoon sun shone directly on the spot. I called out to Ruby, our little Scottish terrier and made her sit next to me. I opened my psychology textbook and read two sentences.
Then I heard Cole Parsons' voice, husky, dreamy, captivating. "No, it's a dive. It's down a shared driveway and you can practically see inside the neighbor's bathroom."
I frowned, stilling the squeaky hinge of the swing, hoping he didn't know I was a few yards away, behind the seven foot high cedar fence.
There was a throaty laugh, followed by, “Yeah, like living in a fish bowl."
I carefully put my books to the side, stroking Ruby to keep her quiet. I strained my ears, trying to catch the phone conversation, "A family...a kid Ryan's age...a girl...senior...nah, the local high school..." His voice continued, “Nah...seemed a bit of a nerd," followed by a mocking laugh, then, “didn’t look like the type who’d date...”
I froze. He was talking about me! Intending to creep away, I stood, but Ruby startled, letting out a yelp as the swing suddenly swayed backwards. She darted off, making my books crash to the ground.
"Ruby!" I called in a half-whispered growl of frustration. Down on my knees I quickly gathered them up.
“Oops, thought I heard a crash."
I stopped, scared to look around, knowing that Cole Parsons was peering over the fence. Realizing that several seconds of unresponsiveness was weird, I turned to see his full face above the fence, meaning he was standing on a planter box.
"Oh, hi," I said brightly, trying to pretend I hadn’t overheard his insulting words, trying not to look at his damp hair plastered across his forehead. Was he shirtless back there? "Um, something scared the dog. She took off inside." I stood, smoothing down my dress.
