by Mia Belle
I slink toward my room, my body bent over like I can’t support myself. “Whatever you get is fine with me.”
He watches me go, and I don’t need to turn around to know what’s on his face. Pain mixed with hopelessness and uncertainty. I wasn’t the only one who lost someone a little more than a month ago. Dad lost his wife. And now he needs to raise a teenage daughter all on his own.
I enter my room and stop dead in my tracks. The blinds are up, enabling me to peek into the room across from mine.
One of the Armstrong guys is crouched on the floor, digging things out of his box. His shaggy black hair falls over his face. Zane, I think.
Crap. His room is across from mine. And he doesn’t have a shade.
Charging to the window, I reach to shut the blinds. His head jerks up, his hair falling back, and his eyes greet mine. I freeze in place. Even from here I can see just how bright and green they are.
We must be staring at each other for a good few minutes before I come to my senses and pull the blinds shut. Stupid. I’ve warned myself to stay away from boys, to not have anything to do with them.
I read my book and watch some TV until Dad calls me down for dinner. It looks like he ordered Chinese.
He smiles that same empty smile as I take my seat at the kitchen table. My eyes automatically shoot to the empty chair across from mine. Mom’s seat.
Dad watches me, a hard swallow making its way down his throat. He reaches for one of the food cartons, but his hand is a bit shaky and he knocks it to the floor.
“I got it,” I say, reaching for it. Dad reaches for it, too, and our heads bang.
He chuckles as he rubs his head. It also sounds empty. “Strike two. I don’t think my head can handle any more trauma.”
It’s supposed to make me laugh, but I don’t have it in me. The last time I laughed or even smiled was the day Mom let me skip school so we could spend the day together. That day went from being one of my best to my absolute worst.
Dad clears his throat, opening the cartons and passing me the food. I dump a bit of everything onto my plate and eat. The food tastes like sandpaper.
“Lia,” Dad starts, but I hold up my hand. I know what he’s about to say. Same thing he says every night.
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“But Dr. Wang—”
“Was a waste of time.”
He sits back, his lips pressed together. After Mom died, I went to see the therapist. Like I said: complete waste of time. As if talking about my dead mom would heal my wounds.
“I just thought you might want to see her again,” Dad says.
“Dad.” I shift my eyes from my plate to him. “I’m okay. I’m not going to hurt myself or others. I’m not going to jump off a building. My mom died, okay? I’m dealing.”
He winces.
“Sorry,” I say.
He holds out his hands, as if pleading. “I’m trying here, sweetie. Really, I am. I just can’t…” He intakes a sharp breath and releases it slowly. “I don’t know how to make you happy. When you were little, you used to love dessert. It was your favorite part of the meal. And I try so hard to buy you something I think you’ll love, but…”
“Dad. Desserts aren’t going to make me happy. She….she died…” Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back. “And buying me all these things isn’t going to help.”
“Then what will? What can I do to help you?”
I stab my fork into my food. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Sighing, he resumes eating, and the room is bathed in silence.
***
The doorbell rings, but I pay no attention to it, too engrossed in my book. I usually like to hide in my room and not deal with people. It’s too exhausting to put on fake smiles and pretend the world’s a perfect place. My room is my sanctuary.
But when I hear multiple voices downstairs, my curiosity gets the better of me and I sneak out of my room. I bend over the rail for a peek.
The neighbors Julia and Craig Armstrong are in the living room. Dad shakes their hands and invites them to sit down. I spot shadows behind them and when I stretch my head further, I catch three guys standing there.
The Armstrong boys.
Great. As if I didn’t get enough of them already. What are they doing in my house?
“Your daughter was so kind to welcome us to the neighborhood,” Julia says as she and her husband sit down. Two of the boys—I think Aidan and Caleb—follow them, but the other lingers behind. “We wanted to come and introduce ourselves, Mr. Kelly.”
Dad waves his hand. “Please, call me Alaric.”
They discuss the house and the neighborhood, boring stuff really. The two guys sitting with them seem just as bored as I am, stuffing their faces with the store bought cake Dad offers them.
If Mom were here, she’d be feeding them her delicious cakes. I used to love baking with her, but I hardly had time. And I definitely didn’t inherit her baking talent.
I shut my eyes, forcing myself to stop thinking about her so much. How will I get over her death if I can’t accept it? Or refuse to?
When my eyes open, I find myself staring into familiar green ones. Zane, the guy from the room next door, stands at the foot of the stairs, gazing at me.
I duck. Damn. He caught me spying on them.
“Can I come up?” he calls.
“No.”
“Fair enough.”
Assuming he walked off, I stand up and peer over the railing, only to find him planted there.
“Do you mind?” I hiss. “This is my room. You shouldn’t be here.”
His eyebrows scrunch. “No. It’s the stairs leading to your room.” He winks. “Neighbor.”
He doesn’t just mean neighbor because our houses are side by side, he means because our rooms are side by side. Damn. What am I supposed to do? Tell Dad to switch rooms with me? Of course not. There are only two bedrooms in our house, so it’s not like I can just switch to another.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He gives me a lazy smile.
“Lia?” Dad calls. “Can you come down here for a minute?”
Come down to a room filled with teenage guys? No thank you.
“Amelia, sweetie?”
Zane’s eyes are glued to mine and he still wears that lazy smile that makes me want to slap it off his face. I know this guy hasn’t done anything to me, but they’re all the same. I won’t make that mistake again.
Footsteps approach as Caleb comes into view. He stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets. “Your dad’s asking for you, Lia.”
Zane and I lock eyes on one another before I drag myself down the stairs and into the living room, the guys on my tail. Caleb plops down between his parents—I mean aunt and uncle—on the sofa while Zane leans on the wall, his arms crossed.
I lower myself next to my dad, where he sends me one of his empty-trying-too-hard smiles. He clasps his hands. “Lia, Aidan, Caleb, and Zane will start Willow Lake High tomorrow. I’d like you to show them around.”
What? “Why?” I blurt without thinking.
Julia and Craig’s smiles drop, their shocked eyes moving to me.
“I mean, I’m sure they don’t need a babysitter.”
Dad forces another smile. “Of course they don’t need a babysitter, Lia. And that’s not what I meant. First days can be very daunting and I’d like the boys’ transition to be as smooth as possible.” He looks at the guys. “Unless you’d rather figure it all out on your own?”
Caleb and Aidan shrug, their eyes flicking in my direction.
From where he’s leaning against the wall, I spot the green-eyed Zane smirking. Again, I wish I could slap it off his face.
He pushes off the wall. “I think I do need a babysitter. This would be my first time going to a new school and honestly, I’m a little nervous.”
Oh my god. I can see right through that lie. It seems Dad and his parents are totally oblivious. Is he trying to piss me off? He probably figures I won�
�t refuse in front of my dad and his parents, who were so kind to me only a few hours ago.
“That settles it,” Dad says. “Lia will show you guys around.”
For the past year and a half, I didn’t really care that my dad was principal of my high school. I mean, of course it bothered me because kids would always tease me here and there, some claiming I tattle about everything that goes on, but mostly it wasn’t a big deal. Because we never get new students, I never had to show anyone around. And now Dad wants me to spend alone time with three teenage boys? No. They suck. I’m sorry, but they do.
That’s why I only read adult romance novels. Teenage boys are immature pigs who don’t know how to treat a girl with respect. Maybe that’s a little harsh, but after what I’ve been through this year, I have a right to crap on them.
Dad and the Armstrong parents discuss more school-related topics, while I allow my eyes to roam around the room. I make sure not to look at the guys. They’re hot and there’s something about them that could draw any girl in, but I refuse to let that happen to me. Nope. Never. No way. I won’t let my guard down again. I need to protect myself.
My phone pings with a text.
Sophie: Was your dad mad about the pie?
Me: Nah. It’s fine.
I’m about to inform her that the guys are at my house, but stop. The last thing I need is her freaking out on me. Why couldn’t these people move into the house next door to her? I don’t need this much testosterone thrown in my face.
I get to my feet. “Can I go now?”
All heads move to me. Dad gives me a look like I’m being rude. Yes, I’m being rude, and I don’t care. It’s bad enough Sophie dragged my butt to meet these people and it’s bad enough that my room is right across one of theirs. And now Dad’s practically forcing me to spend time with them? With boys I need to protect myself from? No, not cool at all.
I don’t bother waiting to be excused. I whirl on my feet and stride to my room. I know I’m giving Julia and Craig a bad image of myself. They probably first saw me as a sweet girl. Maybe I used to be her, and it’s time they got to know the new and improved me. No, not improved. Downgraded.
As I climb the stairs to my room, I hear Dad apologizing, no doubt telling them we’ve had a hard month.
In my room, I splat face-down on my bed and inhale my pillow.
I don’t know how much time passes before there’s a knock on the door. “Lia?” It’s Dad. I guess our house is free of the new neighbors. “Can I come in?”
“I guess.”
The door opens and my bed sinks. Dad’s hand lightly pats my back, like he’s unsure what to do. Mom was the one who comforted me while Dad stood at the door, watching. I know he loves me and cares about me. Truth is, I don’t exactly know what I expect from him. Maybe to just leave me alone. To let me deal with it by myself.
“Sweetie,” he says. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”
Pushing my blanket aside, I sit up. “Why did you have to volunteer me to show those guys around? I don’t want to.”
Shock fills his eyes. “Lia. This isn’t like you. Both you and your mother used to love helping people. What happened?”
She died. That’s what.
I flip onto my side, dragging the blanket over me. “Just go away.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me exactly what’s going on in that head of yours. I know this was your mom’s department, but…” His voice trails off.
I expose my face again. “You know how I feel about guys.”
With surprised eyes, he places his hands on my shoulders. “This is about Josh? Honey, not every guy is like him. How do you expect to have a relationship one day if you’re going to compare them all to Josh?”
I shove his hands off. “Because I’m going to wait until after high school to date. Guys my age are so stupid and immature. I want nothing to do with them. Nothing. That includes our neighbors, so go find someone else to babysit them.” I heave my blanket over my face and twist away from him.
He doesn’t leave my room, and a good few minutes pass before he speaks again. “I asked you to show them around because you’re the only one I trust.”
“What’s trust got to do with anything?”
He hesitates. “The boys have been through…difficulties. And I want to make their transition to our school as comfortable as possible.”
I sit up. “What have they been through?”
“That’s confidential.”
I roll my eyes. “Really, Dad?”
He holds up his hands helplessly.
“So they’re little babies who need their hands held?”
He shakes his head. “Of course not. Their situation is very delicate and Mrs. Armstrong has confided in me. She sees something good in you, someone she can trust, and she feels safe entrusting the boys in your care.”
I gape at him. “This makes no sense.”
He hesitates. “All you need to know is that the boys need someone to have their backs.”
“I’m sure all the girls at school will line up for that.”
He replaces his hands on my shoulders. “No. Not just anyone. You. Your classmates could be a little…careless sometimes. And with social media, things can get a little out of hand.”
I continue to gape at him. “What in the world are you talking about? Are they hiding from someone?”
“Sweetie, I’m just asking you to be their friend, all right?”
Their friend? Me?
He squeezes my shoulder. “Thank you.” He bends forward and awkwardly kisses my forehead. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
He gives me an encouraging smile before shutting the door behind him.
“That was sweet,” a voice says in the distance.
Scrambling off the bed, I lift my blinds and peer out. Zane is sitting in his window, his legs dangling outside. He’s not wearing shoes, just his dark socks. His T-shirt strains against his heavily muscled chest. Is this the guy with the abs? The one Sophie was practically drooling after?
“Are you insane? You’ll fall!”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Why do you hate guys?”
“How much of that did you hear?”
He gives me that lazy smile again.
Chapter Four
Zane
I can see straight into the girl next door’s room. Of course her blinds are down, but a few slats are pulled apart, providing a view of her and her dad sitting on her bed. I can also hear every word. I listen intently, curious if Mr. Kelly will keep our secret. And he does. No matter how much Lia begs him to tell her what’s going on, he doesn’t relent. He’s gained my respect. And not just as my new principal.
Once he leaves her room, I can’t help myself. Lia’s got a hard shell, and I’d love to see her crack a smile. So I do the only thing I do best—I push her buttons.
She’s at her window within seconds, demanding to know how much of the conversation I heard.
I give her a smile. “Every word. And that kiss? So sweet. I don’t think my dad has ever kissed me like that.”
Her hands cross over her chest. “Craig?”
“Nope. My bio dad. But he’s not in the picture.”
Her eyes fill with curiosity, but that’s the last thing I’m going to say on the subject of my biological father.
“Where is he?” she asks.
I tilt my head from side to side. “So why do you hate guys? Something about a guy named Josh? What did he do? Not matching shirts with you? Did he forget to text you? Oh, he probably didn’t kiss you enough.”
A dark look overtakes her face and my heart skips a beat. I’ve never seen such a haunted look on someone. Other than my brother, but that was years ago.
Damn. I’m an asshole.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Anger fills her eyes. “You don’t know anything about me, jerk.”
“You’re right. I’m so—”
“How many rooms are in that house? No,
I know how many.” She does a quick count in her head. “Four.”
“Yeah. Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. So we’re stuck being neighbors. And I think we should work something out.”
Her hand reaches for the pull cord. “Or you can get a shade and we can pretend each other doesn’t exist.” She pulls the cord and the blinds shut.
I remain sitting with my legs sticking out the window as I think about what a jerk I am. Damn it. Why do I manage to always hurt someone? She’s a stranger, but it’s obvious she’s been through things. Everyone’s been through something—I should know—but it seems different with my neighbor. I don’t know why, but I feel it. It’s practically eating her alive.
She doesn’t have a mother. My bio parents are dead, but I have a loving adoptive mother and father. So why do I keep hurting people? I think I’m helping them, but I always ending up causing the opposite.
A few minutes pass before her blinds lift and she sticks her head out. “You’re still here?”
I shrug. “Got nowhere to go.”
Her face contorts like she ate something sour. “I like to look out my window at night, but you’re ruining my view.”
I shrug again. “I have as much of a right to be here as you do.”
“I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“So that gives you the right to kick me out?”
“Yep.”
I regard her for a little while. Her eyes are still haunted, but there’s anger mixed in there. And sadness. A sadness I can feel deep in my core. I understand it. I understand loss. I’m probably the only one who gets her.
“Look—”
“I’m waiting for you to leave,” she snaps.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She glares at me. I glare back. That’s how we remain for a few minutes. Lia’s chest heaves as she tries to contain her anger. I’m more interested in this challenge. In her. What can I do or say to get this girl to lower her guard? To smile?
I’ve been her. I still am her. But I’m learning to deal with my problems. Of course they’ll never disappear, but if I don’t work on myself, I’ll be stuck. And I don’t want that for her.
“I’ll leave on one condition,” I say.
