𝐏𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄𝐒 🝮 𝒳𝒶𝓃𝒹ℯ𝓇 ℋ𝒶𝓌𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇𝓃ℯ

THREE

[y/n]
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The foyer was very large.

I mean, what do you expect?

"You've arrived. And right on time. I trust there were no problems with your flight?"

A boy wearing an all-black suit greeted us. He had steely-gray eyes, similar to Mr. Hawthorne's, with light hair and sharp features. He looked to be around Avery's age.
"Grayson," he greeted me simply.

Libby had mentioned him. He came to the school to tell Avery about the will reading.

One of Mr. Hawthorne's grandsons.

"You." Alisa greeted him with a steely-eyed look.

"I take it I'm not forgiven for interfering?" Grayson asked.

"You're nineteen," Alisa retorted. "Would it kill you to act like it?"

"It might," Grayson replied with a smile. "And you're welcome." It didn't take me long to realize that 'interfering' meant Grayson coming to fetch Avery. "Ladies," he said, "may I take your coats?"

"No," I replied bluntly. I trusted him. Of course I did. He was practically raised by Mr. Hawthorne. But I couldn't go around giving people my coat just yet.

Avery elbowed me, shooting me a look. "I'll keep mine," she replied, in a much nicer tone than the one I had used.

"And yours?" Grayson asked Libby smoothly.

Still agog at the foyer, Libby shed her coat, handing it to him. Grayson walked underneath one of the stone arches of the foyer, where there was a corridor. There were small square panels lining the walls, and Grayson laid a hand on one and pushed. After hitting a few others, there was a pop, and a door appeared, swinging open as it sperated itself from tbe rest of the wall.

"What the..." Avery started to say.

Grayson reached in and pulled out a hanger. "Coat closet."

Of course it was.

Alisa took that as her cue to leave, and as Grayson went to close the closet, a creak and then a bam sounded from deep within.

There was a bit of shuffling, before a boy, probably my age, stepped into the light.

Oh my.

He was tall- VERY tall. He looked disheveled, like he had taken a nap- or several- in his suit, but it looked oddly... endearing. He had a baby face framed with a mop of dark, curly hair and light brown eyes and skin.

And he was extremely cute.

"Am I late?" he asked Grayson.

"One might suggest that you direct that query toward your watch."

I felt a bit flustered- a strange feeling for me to feel. Some (really cute) guy had just stumbled out of a closet, and I already had butterflies in my stomach. Get a hold of yourself!

"Is Jameson here yet?" the dark-haired boy amended his question.

This must have been Xander.

Grayson stiffened. "No."

The other boy grinned. "Then I'm not late!" He looked past Grayson to Libby, Avery, and, finally, me. "And these must be..." he paused as his eyes landed on my jet-lagged, just-went-on-a-plane face. "Holy shiiii...."

He leaned against the wall, probably trying to look cool, correcting his flustered expression quickly. "Hey," he greeted me, his voice, like, eight octaves lower than it had been previously.

Oh, lord.

A muscle in Grayson's jaw twitched. "Avery Grambs," he said formally, "and her sisters, Libby and (Y/N). Ladies, this is my brother, Alexander." He arched an eyebrow. "Xander is the baby of the family."

"I'm the handsome one," Xander corrected, still smirking at me. "I know what you're thinking. This serious bugger beside me can really fill out an Armani suit. But, I ask you, can he jolt the universe on and up to ten with his smile, like a young Mary Tyler Moore incarnate in the body of a multiracial James Dean?" Xander seemed to have only one way of speaking: fast. "No," he answered. "No, he cannot."

He finally stopped talking long enough for someone else to speak. "Nice to meet you," Libby managed.

"Spend a lot of time in coat closets?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

Xander dusted his hands off on his pants. "Secret passage," he said with a wink at me. "This place is full of them."

𖦷⁂𖦷

Libby had her phone out, snapping pictures of the interior of the house. Not embarassing at all, Lib.

"Mademoiselle..." Xander sidestepped to block one of Libby's shots. "May I ask: What are your feelings on roller coasters?" He was asking Libby, but I think it was directed more towards me.

Libby's eyes looked like the might have popped out of their sockets. "This place has a roller coaster?"

I'd seen blueprints of the Hawthorne house, and I'd even help decide for a few of the old man's yearly additions.

And yes. There was, indeed, a mini-sized rollercoaster.

"Not exactly," Xander replied with a grin, taking mine and Libby's wrists in his hands and dragging us to the back of the foyer, leaving Avery and Grayson alone together.

He pressed his hand into a panel, with the wall beside it raising up, revealing a large room occupied by a small, winding rollercoaster with inclines, dips, and even a loop.

I tried not to act too impressed, but that's a bit hard to do with a fricking household rollercoaster right in front of you.

Libby's eyes darted around the room, her jaw basically detatched from her skull as she ogled at the sight in front of her. "Damn."

"Damn is right," I said quietly, running my hand along the shiny, red rollercoaster car in front of me.

That's when it hit me. At that completely random moment, I realized something.

Of course.

This was a game. Mr. Hawthorne had left me one last game. That's why Avery was in the will, and not me. It was a message. He needs me, or possibly Avery, to find something.

Or maybe someone.

But was I playing the game, or holding the answers while someone else plays one?

Or both?

𖦷⁂𖦷

XANDER'S HERE 🤭🤭