Just Talk to Him! (IM5)

Chapter 21

“I don’t like you, Kylie. You’re nearly as bad as the haters.”

“Aww, I like you too!” I gush. Dana rolls his eyes. We’re waiting in the lobby of the hotel we’ve been staying in the last few days, our luggages ready to go at our feet. The other boys are here too, watching us bicker. After a midday interview, they are tuckered out from recording a live video and answering questions for their fans.

“I swear you were born in 2001,” Cole complains. “There’s a five year age difference between us, not three.”

“Are you saying I’m twelve?” I accuse. “So rude, bro!” I pick up the pillow near me and shove it at him.

“Whatcha gonna do, sis?” he taunts, causing everyone else to either look exasperated or amused.

My eyes widen. I consider bursting into action like the Black Widow, but instead I find myself clutching Dana from behind. “Save me.”

“No, fight your own battles,” he scoffs. “Do you think I’m dumb enough to get in Cole’s way?”

“Yeah, last time Cole colored his whole face in with metallic Sharpie!” Dalton crows. “He refused to show his face in public for days!”

“Um.” I glance back at my brother, who now has an evil look on his face. For some reason, I get a flashback of being thrown in the pool. “Uh oh.”

Cole explodes out of his seat and lunges for me. Like a hunted rabbit, I jump up in a panic, sprinting as far away as possible. I skid to a halt when I hear someone yell, “No running in the lobby!”

In that split second, Cole tackles me to the carpet and tickles my stomach and sides. I thrash and kick. Is this what it feels like to be attacked by a pack of ravenous wolves?  When Cole finally stops, I curl in a ball to catch my breath. From across the lobby, the other boys’ hysterical laughter rings in my ears. Cole reaches out a hand to help me up. “You look a little pale there.”

I shakily push myself into standing. “I don’t trust you, Benedict Arnold.”

He blinks. “Who?”

“Go back to fifth grade history.” I dust off my clothes and stalk back to the couches.

“Hey, wait! Are you saying I’m not smarter than a fifth grader?”

“Yes, dummy!” I want to say something else, too, explain why it was insensitive of him to attack me like that in public. But I bite my tongue because there’s still the attention of nearly the whole hotel on me. I don’t cry easily, but who knows if I’ll start bawling when I talk about my own insecurities.

July 26th, 2013 - 8:30 p.m.

At the airport, in the lounge the boys have access to because of their constant flying, we raid the free food counter, piling our plates with salad, crackers, and other hardly-filling foods. After we start to chow down, I see Cole standing by a wall, typing on his phone obliviously.

Sidling up to him I bump my shoulder against him. “Hey, Cole?”

“What?” He doesn’t look up.

“Tickling me earlier was really… insensitive.” I gulp. “‘Cause, you know, I trusted you. I thought you’d realize I have a massive phobia of public embarrassment.”

He turns off the screen and stuffs his phone in his pocket. “Sorry, Kylie.”

I’m about to leave it at that, but my heart twinges and I fidget a bit. “You don’t understand, Cole. I’m not outgoing like you. I can’t laugh at myself when I’m embarrassed like you do. I’m not… I’m not confident.”

“Ky,” he states solemnly, “If you think people have a negative impression of you, if you think we think you’re stupid or or ugly or something, we don’t. Truly. But honestly, Ky, I know it’s hard for you to think so, but the opinions of others really don’t matter. Do you think we let the comments of haters get to our heads? We can’t and we don’t, because what matters is what we ourselves think of us.”

Thoughts swim in my mind, some of them protesting, some of them agreeing. And still, some thoughts remind me that I will never be impassive about what others think. I have always been too shallow, too anxious to be confident. Tears begin to moisten my eyes, still a long way from leaking. “I’m too shy to be confident,” I say. “Words will always get to me.”

“Obviously you don’t know what it means to be confident,” Cole chuckles. When my expression falls, he hastily adds, “I swear I’m not mocking you. It’s like how you can be terrified and still have courage. It’s a mindset, an attitude, not a personality. You have to tell yourself words don’t hurt and pretend, act like it until they really don’t. You play soccer. You weren’t born with strength and muscles, you were born weak. But you told yourself you would get through practice and conditioning until you finally did. You tried to be strong until you were strong.”

I nod, blinking to dry my eyes. I hope he never saw them glisten in the light.

“Kylie, you know I care about you, right?” He asks. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” He looks around, spots his bandmates still lounging at a table, and sighs. “There’s a lot of dumb things I do to seem cool.”

“You’re a jerk.” It’s my turn to berate him. “At least I know not to give in to peer pressure. Don’t make dumb decisions for dumb reasons. That never gets you anywhere.”

“At least it got me the chance to give you worldly advice,” Cole grins.

My lips curl up slightly. For the first time in years, I reach up and hug my older brother. “I love you.”

He stiffens. I begin to doubt my action, but soon he hugs me back. “I, um, love you, too, Ky.”

Afterward, Cole and I join the table with the boys. Five minutes later, Dalton bolts out of his seat, calling to someone across the room. “Kate!”

A/N: Favorite part of this chapter? Let me know in the comments!

(Sorry I'm not saying the winner from last chapter. I'll do that next time. I'm really busy and have been for the past weeks. Thanks for bearing with the slow updates!)

-Delaine