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But he doesn’t look. Again, I’m not even here.
I drop my gaze and stick a spoonful in my mouth. I should tell Jake what happened last night after I left his room, but that wouldn’t hurt Kaleb. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and Jake can’t control him. The most annoying thing I can do to Kaleb is to keep doing exactly what I’ve been doing.
I stick another bite in my mouth and look back down at my copy of Beloved, turning the page.
“Have you ever seen snow before?” I hear Noah ask. “Oh, never mind. My mistake. You’re totally a Swiss Alps girl.”
“French, thank you,” I say without looking up from my book.
I take a bite, remembering the last time I skied. Another activity I could do alone, so I loved it. Winter and snow don’t suck if you’re having fun in it.
I look up again. “Yes, I’ve seen it,” I tell Noah, joking aside. “I haven’t played in it much, though. Or driven in it or lived in it. But I have seen The Shining, and I do know what happens to people cooped up at a remote location through a long winter in Colorado. It can be quite deadly.”
He chuckles, and I look back down at my food, but catch Kaleb’s eyes and stop for a moment. He watches me, his body still and his hot, green eyes hard on me.
I clear my throat.
“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Noah jabs me in the ribs, teasing.
I squirm away in my seat. “Stop it.”
“All play and no work means I got a new toy,” he sing-songs and slides his chair over to mine, tickling me harder.
“Noah, stop!” I protest, but I giggle anyway as I squirm in his arms.
I’ve never been tickled before coming here, and I don’t like it.
But I can’t stop laughing.
I shake my head and kick him under the table, the silverware clanking. I’m dying to hit him, but I’m too busy trying to twist away from his fingers as I tear up through the laughter.
“Hands off,” I hear Jake chide. “Now.”
But Noah doesn’t listen.
He brings his hand up under my neck, and I go to bite it, but he pulls it away. I jab him back, tickling him, too, and we push back our chairs, the legs scaping against the tile as I start to fight back.
When I was little, my parents’ friends had a daughter who invited me to her birthday sleepover—because of who my parents were and not because we were friends—
but I remember seeing the dad wrestling with his toddler on the floor that night. They laughed and played, rolled around and he let the little boy tickle him back. It was such a weird thing to see. Families who played together.
I dart out for his glass, ready to threaten him with a little shower, but before I can take it, Kaleb shoves his bowl, hitting the pot in the middle of the table.
It slams into my cup of milk, making my drink topple over, hit the table, and spill across the top. I can’t make it out of the way before it spills over the side and right into my lap.
I shove my chair back, my bare thighs and sleep shorts already soaked as I dart my eyes up to Kaleb.
“Shit,” Noah mumbles, and I see him get up, hopefully to grab a dish towel as Jake shoots his eyes over to Kaleb.
I clench my jaw.
Spoke too soon. Not everyone in this family plays together, I guess, and someone certainly isn’t in the mood. I look up, meeting Kaleb’s eyes.
He stares at me across the table, the kitchen now silent, and if there was any doubt about whether or not that was deliberate, there isn’t now. The cold milk streams down my thighs and drips to the floor, and Jake stares down at him, breathing hard.
Noah tosses a towel into my lap and takes another, quickly wiping up the mess. Kaleb and I are still locked in a stare.
He’s all over me one minute. Can’t stand me the next. Pulls me into his lap, so I don’t get soda all over my clothes, and then turns around and douses me.
