Cliché with a player

Chapter 34 - The picnic

A/N: So...Matt's POV, finally.

I know Myles. I've known him for years, we were best mates in middle school, even before we met Dan and Jack. And he is a good guy — but a player. And rage flies over me at the thought of him playing Iry.

But I didn't have the need to look at another girl for months. Laken is everything I desire to look at, to touch, to breathe. So I suppose it could be the same with him.

Still, Irina is sixteen and he eighteen. Two year difference may not be a big deal with the adults, but it is when she is still a kid. I cannot see her as anything else but the little girl with two ponytails who jumped around our house, singing to Adele at only four years old.

My sister notices me first and meets my glare, which I soften in a moment. I can see in her eyes the woman she would be, she already is in a way. I couldn't be prouder.

Her eyes flash with warning. Don't come after him. And my eyes tell her that I'm going to flatly ignore her.

Now Myles notices me also, and tenses. I don't like that. He's my friend and he fucking tensed when he saw me. Guilt ripples trough the smallest part of my body, the majority still believing it's the best for my sister.

I hug Iry and squeeze her tight — let Myles know who she's got protecting her. Because that's what I'll always be doing.

"Hey," I nod towards him. He bobs his head in response. After an intense staring match, I finally add, "I came to talk, nothing more."

"Then talk," Iry pushes.

"I'm going to be frank," I glance sideways at my sister, "I think you're old enough to make some decisions for yourself, that's why I'm not having this talk with Myles alone." Then to my friend, "But I also think this isn't right. Have some sense, dude, she's two years younger, she..." And what I'm about to say it's probably the part that bothers me most. "She's my sister. You have a whole school of girls throwing themselves at you and you go after the one I love most." I love Laken with everything I am, but I love my sister in a way I obviously could never love Laken.

I love Iry more than Laken. And I love Laken more than Iry.

"Matt..." My sister wants to say something, her voice breaking.

"Now, I know you two are going to do what you please, regardless of my opinion," I cut her off, "but just know that I will never stop loving or love you less, Iry, and on my side we won't stop being friends." The last part I say to Myles.

Relief is evident in their features. I love them both, Myles saw the ugliest of me — he's a good friend.

"But that doesn't mean that if you play her like all the others I won't beat the shit out of you." It was the last pity-worth attempt, mentioning other girls Myles has slept with, to maybe get Iry to sway.

When both of them stay silent, I gesture with my hands. "Talk."

Iry steps forward and hugs me around the waist fiercely. "Thank you for trusting me."

"I always trust you." I kiss the top of her head, murmuring the words in her hair.

Myles says, "Right now, we're just friends. And I have no intention of ever hurting Rina. In any way."

Rina. No one calls her that. What a stupid nickname. It isn't tho, I'm only a bit angry. The way he says it it's...gentle.

He was never someone to talk a lot, so I know he won't say anything else. And while Iry is still hugging me, I give him a look that says, I trust you on this one.

God help me, I hope I didn't make a huge mistake.

~~~

Laken is still talking to Nessa's aunt and cousin by the time I return. I put my hands on her shoulders, kissing the top of her head, and she twists in her chair to look at me.

God, I love her eyes.

They're staring at me with the intensity of a thousand moons, with wit and courage. The soft brown turns honey in the sunlight and suddenly I have a huge lump in my throat.

I am about to tell her how beautiful she is, when a loud, "Hello!" interrupts us.

It's Michael. Aka my mom's boyfriend — or partner or whatever. Aka Noah and Iry's father.

And the guy that's going to help Mr. Davis bury Laken's mom.

He goes over to Mom and kisses her, and she smiles at him lovingly. She's too good for him.

He was on some kind of a trip for the last mont or so, so we haven't seen much of him, but now he's apparently back and invited to Moore's grill.

Can't. Stand. Him. I try for the twins' sake, because we still live under the same roof, and he's still their father, and he treats Mom and them good, but he never actually accepted Wylan and me. We're not his sons and it stayed at that. He never even bothered with Wylan even though my brother was desperate for a father figure due to the lack of it, and Michael simply dismissed it as childish stubbornness. With me...He'd tried a bit harder, mainly because my dad was in the picture for a part of my life and I met with him on a regular basis, plus, I think Michael was a bit afraid of what he would do if I said he mistreated me — I won't even begin about how he has always felt threatened by Dad. Just because Mom and him didn't work out, didn't mean she wouldn't go back to him. Or at least that was what Michael has always thought, Mom wouldn't do that.

Irina runs up to him to hug him, Noah strolling over slowly, probably not wanting to come off as, god forbid, eager. It is a weird phase he is going trough.

Wylan walks in behind him looking grim. Surprise, surprise. Michael managed to fuck something up already.

Laken notices the sudden shift in my behaviour, stands up and wraps her arms around me. She pulls back a little, just so she can look me in the eyes, and whispers, "Come with me."

We make our way in the house unnoticed. She's leading me past many doors, probably of Nessa's many siblings, and stops short in front of the living room.

With a grand piano.

A grand piano.

I nearly fall to my knees at the sight of it. It's...remarkable.

"I thought you may like it."

Still holding my hand, she walks over and taps the tiles lightly. I don't dare touch it.

"It's meant to be played."

I know, but still stand perfectly still.

Her hand releases mine and my fingers buzz with the newfound cold, my hand missing hers. I need her body against mine — I crave it. So I hurry up and sit on the too-small-for-two piano chair.

Everything she does is music to my ears, every sound she produces...but the actual music, that's just divine.

I love seeing her like this, when she bends the piano to her will, when she becomes one with it. I know I'm a good pianist, even above average, but I can't compare to her elegance. I can't compare to her, period. Laken is way too good for me but I have always been selfish enough to take what I don't deserve — even though she makes it feel like I deserve the world.

I stopped deserving that when I was fourteen.

A/N: I hope you liked the little dive into Matt's mind. I think he is, in a way, the hardest character out of these to write about.