Expectations

Chapter 21

What was that for? Sure, we may be going to my place, but I didn't put up the fight to go or initiate the idea of going. That was all Alex. And I couldn't be rude and flat out tell Alex that he can't come over. But I guess it doesn't really matter. Deep down, I already know Chris doesn't like me and this is just another mark on his Why I Hate Joslyn list.

I don't get it. Alex is a twenty year old man, not an adolescence. Chris isn't even his parent. I know he's trying to look out for Alex, that's his job as his manager, but he can't keep him locked up like Rapunzel forever. Alex is fully capable of making his own decisions and doing what he wants. Granted, given his position, it's a little harder to go out like any other person, so maybe bringing along Milo isn't such a bad idea.

I look over at Alex and his mood has instantly turned sour despite his victory. I don't blame him, though. Again, sometimes Chris treats him like a five year old instead of a twenty year old.

"So, what are you thinking about making tonight?" I ask, trying to thin the tension in the air.

Alex lets out a gust of air from his lungs, pushing his cereal around in the bowl with his spoon. He lets the spoon fall in the bowl with a small clank, looking up at me, shrugging. "I don't know," he says, leaning back in the seat. "Do you like pasta?"

"Love it."

"Good, cause I make a mean chicken alfredo," he says, mood instantly brightening.

"We'll see about that," I tease.

Stepping onto the familiar welcome mat, I dig my key out of my back pocket and jiggle it into the door knob, twisting. Opening the door, I'm welcomed to warm air and the familiar scent of home, putting an instant smile on my face. I'm also met with tiny dusk partials flying around the air as soon as I step forward and open the curtains, the bright sun streaming in through the widow. 

"Sorry." My smile instantly turns sheepish when Alex and Milo walk through my door. "Let me turn up the AC and tidy up a bit," I say, rushing to lower the thermostat and grab a duster.

When we leave for tour we typically turn up the thermostat a few degrees so our bill doesn't skyrocket with no one here. Then, naturally, with everyone gone for a few months, a very thin layer of dust collects on the furniture.

"Make yourselves at home." I gesture to the couch and Milo takes it upon himself to sit down, grabbing the remote.

"Need any help?" Alex politely asks.

"Nah, I'm good. This should only take a minute," I say, quickly ducking in and out of rooms to dust and make sure everything is in good condition.

I take a moment to soak in the feeling of being home. As much as I love being out on the road, home will always be that comforting place I want to come back to. I love this place. I love the little home me and the boys created for ourselves only a few short years ago.

I love the white walls that are contrasted by the dark wood floor and furniture. I love the big comfy beige couches that we spend way too much time on when we're here. I love the subtle décor and photos scattered around. I mean, I should. I'm the one who decorated this place because the boys sure as hell weren't going to do it, so I took it upon myself. I tried to make it feel as warm and welcoming as possible, something we'd all enjoy and feel at home in since we're out on the road most of the time.

The overall vibe of the apartment is rustic, we are in the south after all. But, living with all boys, I didn't decorate too girly or over the top with abstract paintings and knickknacks. It was modern, but simple. It just felt like home.

Although we all technically live in this apartment, only my dad, Joe, and I truly live here. Each apartment only has three bedrooms so the other boys have the apartment next to ours thats way less decorated. Aside from sleeping, they're practically in our apartment twenty-four-seven. If anything, they occasionally used the other apartment for band practice.