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“Okay.” Audrey beams sunshine and rainbows up at him, her smile so broad she’s in serious danger of popping off her purple braces.
Minutes later we’re all in the kitchen. Audrey and I take a seat at the island while Martha Stewart, also known as Ethan, is making fancy hot chocolate. I eyeball the purple container with French writing as he turns and slides two mugs across the granite counter.
“You get your hot chocolate powder at Vosges? Really?” Across from me, he takes a sip, heavy-lidded eyes watching me over the rim of his mug.
“You know I like the good stuff,” he murmurs in a voice that can only be described as seductive. It makes me uneasy, this subtle, but not so subtle change in him. “Why are you squinting?”
“Hmm, no reason,” I answer. I’m suspicious by nature, therefore I shrug his strange behavior off as me being suspicious by nature.
“What’s with the A names?”
I shrug. Because really, the truth is simply that pathetic. “Most likely Eileen was too lazy to get beyond the first letter of the alphabet.”
“That can’t be true,” he says with a one sided smile.
“I wish I was kidding.”
“I want to be just like you when I grow up.”
I glance at Audrey and find her staring at Ethan with a goofy grin decorating her face. “No, you don’t,” I argue, horrified at the thought of Audrey aiming so low. I want so much more for her.
She turns to face me, her expression suddenly serious. “Yes, I do. You’re my hero.”
“Did you sniff glue before you came over? I’m not even a grown up. In fact, you’ll probably beat me to it. You’re probably a better grown up at thirteen than I am at almost-thirty.”
“I’m nothing like you. You’re super cool and I’m a loser. You’re not scared of anything. And you have a super hot boyfriend.”
I’m speechless. Also, I stopped listening after she called herself a loser.
“I will address the ridiculous things you’ve just said in order or importance. First of all, don’t ever, ever call yourself a loser again. I hate that word. Hate it. What does that even mean? What are you losing at? From where I stand you’re smart, funny, and you have your whole life ahead of you to get it right. I don’t even have medical insurance. I eat all the wrong foods at the wrong time of day. I didn’t finish college.” I can tell by the look on her face I have yet to sway her opinion. “I don’t even know how to drive a car! Second, let’s use the word super a little more judiciously. You’re throwing it around willy-nilly.”
“You don’t know how to drive?” says the eye candy across from me, the baby v between his brows only making him more appealing. This attraction thing is getting really inconvenient.
“No. And him––” I say, pointing to said eye candy. “He doesn’t even like me.”
“I like you,” someone murmurs in a disgustingly low, sexy voice.
The hell?
I do a double take, my focus returning to the hot piece who just spoke. Casually leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, highlighting his spectacular biceps, his smug expression is directed straight at me. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. My eyes narrow and my lips curl around my teeth in displeasure. At my are you freaking serious face, his smile gets even brighter.
“He had to bail me out of jail for starting a fire at my ex-boyfriend’s house!”
“That is sooo cool,” says the junior criminal in training that I share blood with. All I see is purple metal for days.
“Stop smiling. That is not cool. Not even in the least bit, Audrey. I could be going to jail. Real jail. Not Orange Is the New Black jail. Bad stuff happens in real jail. I don’t want anybody calling me Sparkles.”
“Why would somebody call you Sparkles?” she asks with an adorable look of confusion.
Sighing loudly, I answer, “Never mind.”
“You’re not going to jail,” Ethan announces as if he’s judge and jury.
“Thanks, Nostradamus, but you can’t say that for certain, can you?”
“Do you trust me?”
My irritation crumbles in the face of that sweet, earnest way of his. “You know I do,” I mutter sourly.
“I won’t let that happen.” Underscoring his promise, those devastating eyes hold mine.
“This is sooo cool. I’m so happy you’re my sister.” I glance at Audrey and find her mid-swoon, licking fancy hot chocolate off her top lip. I take in the happy expression and metallic grin.
“Time to let your parents know where you are,” I say, holding my hand out for her phone.
As if our differences weren’t already glaringly obvious, where we shop for our food is another perfect example. He’s a hardcore Whole Foods fanatic where as I’m more likely to shop at the corner Seven-Eleven than walk ten blocks to go to a real grocery store.
