— RORI —
After dinner on Monday evening, my brothers told me everything. Though i can't say i feel better knowing the real reason behind Zephaniah and Yakov's return
"He's a business man, not a family man," were the exact words Uvaldo told me in reference to our eldest brother, and he was right.
The same goes for Yakov.
Of course they are only here due to gang related conflict; God forbid they actually missed us.
Still, it breaks my heart knowing that the only time my brothers care for the welfare of our family is when it concerns themselves...
The mystery of Wyatt's potential betrayal has been cleared up also, as Xavi explained what he was doing on the night i spotted him at Aunt Tosca's cafe.
Still, i can't shake the feeling that there is more to it than what he revealed.
Xavi was aware of Wyatt working for Yakov...and he was okay with it?
It seems like the two of them have been in contact with our brothers for a while now.
I only wish they had told us sooner.
"This is a stupid idea, Annalise. I hate you for this! And leave my hair alone!"
Friday rolled around quicker than i would've liked (which is saying something, considering it's usually the highlight of my week) and, much to my dislike, Annalise insisted on giving me a 'makeover' ahead of Lindsay's party.
"Will you two hurry up already?" i hear Seamus holler from the other side of the door. "Seriously, what's taking so long?"
"She's trying to make me look like an American girl doll," i grumble in response.
"Giuro su dio." he scoffs.
My best friend grabs her purse and then drags me out of the room, all the while ignoring the baffled expression worn by both Seamus and Quentin.
She thrusts me in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror, clapping her hands and jumping up and down like an excited child on Christmas morning.
Annalise has managed to make my pale skin look a touch healthier, as well as concealing the bags underneath my eyes. My naturally curly hair has been straightened, sitting much nicer than before, and she made sure i wore my emerald green, lace body suit because, apparently, it makes my eyes stand out and my tits look perkier.
"Your hair is straight," Seamus points out.
"Well done!" i respond in a mocking tone.
"You never wear your hair straight."
"I do sometimes," i say, with an unsure frown. "Doesn't it suit me?"
He narrows his eyes at me, unimpressed, as he looks me up and down.
"I guess," he says, with a nonchalant shrug.
Quentin laughs, now standing beside him.
"You look beautiful, Rori," my younger brother says, a fond smile gracing his face. "You too, Anna."
"Thank you!" my friend beams at him, before turning to glare at Seamus. "You could learn a thing or two from your brother, Seamus."
"Hmm." he flashes her a bitter smile.
Even though my brothers are identical, people rarely struggle to tell them apart.
The contrast in their personalities is obvious to the eye; Seamus with his grunge style of clothing and Quentin who is the epitome of elegance.
Physically, they have a few minor differences such as Seamus's single dimple (in comparison to Quentin's two) and the elder also has a slightly wonky front tooth from the time Teddy punched him.
"Remind me why we're going to this party again?" i ask — correction: groan.
"Because Annalise demanded it," Quentin mutters, causing my friend to glare at him.
"It'll be fun, Ri. I promise," she knowingly reassures me.
"I should hope so." i shoot her a pointed look. "Anyway, we better get going," i say. "The three of us have to be home before our brothers are."
But as we head out the door, i am unable to shake the feeling in my stomach which tells me tonight will be anything but fun.
— SUCKER PUNCH —
Lindsay's mansion is decked out as if she were hosting the Queen of England, rather than a party for us Sophomores, and it is times like this when the differences of my upbringing in Eastern Europe versus The States become apparent.
Annalise and Seamus were the first ones through the doorway, my brother being bombarded by his friend group, as-well as Lindsay's.
I hang back with Quentin, sensing his apprehension, as i glare at the girl from a distance.
"You okay?" i ask him.
"Fine." he nods, failing to reassure me with his unconvincing smile.
"No, Quentin. You're not," i correct him, sternly.
He sighs, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.
"It's the anxiety." he rolls his eyes, sitting on the stairway as i place myself next to him. "It's the worst feeling in the world...getting overwhelmed over something so insignificant." he laughs, softly, shaking his head. "God, i wish i could trade places with him sometimes." he gestures towards the house. "Seamus rarely shows any signs of worry. How the hell does he do it?"
I spare a glance in the direction of our older brother, watching as he tips his head back in laughter. Annalise hands him a drink and he leans towards her as she whispers something in his ear.
Seamus is in his element when surrounded by large groups of people, at a party, drinking like there is no tomorrow.
Quentin is only here because of me.
"I sound jealous, and maybe i am." he scoffs. "The bottom line is, i shouldn't have come out tonight."
"You shouldn't feel pressured to be here, Quentin," a voice says from behind us. "Nor should you compare yourself to others."
Our heads swivel as — hot but potentially gay — Mikey comes into view. Emphasis on the hot part because, objectively, he is.
"Sorry for eaves-dropping..." he offers us a sheepish grin, joining us on the stairway.
Mikey is originally from Venezuela, and his real name is actually Miguel.
I know this from the brief interaction we shared during our first lunch together, where we both acknowledged each other's accents.
He assumed Rori was a nickname too, given that it is neither Polish, Russian, nor Italian.
I didn't bother to tell him that one of my siblings is named after a soft toy bear.
"It's fine." Quentin briefly glances at him. "I'm just...having a moment...i'll be fine."
"Just a minute!" i yell at Annalise, who begins calling my name.
I lock eyes with Mikey and he sends me a knowing smile.
"Go ahead," he tells me. "I'll stay with him for now."
Glancing at my brother once more, he offers me a curt nod as-well as a meaningful expression which reads 'I'll be fine.' Though, knowing how dependent he becomes when in an anxious state, i hesitate to leave.
"I'll be fine, Ri," he reassures me aloud. "Honestly."
I smile, sympathetically. Quentin always puts others before himself.
"Text me if you need anything."
— QUENTIN —
"You know, your sister has to be the most direct person i've ever met," Mikey muses. "She seems pretty cool."
I watch as my sister enters the house, slinging her arm around Annalise's shoulder as she narrowly avoids Lindsay.
My brother stops the girls — clearly to lecture them — and Christian laughs at the retort Rori makes.
"She's the worst," i deadpan.
"Really?"
"Nah." i chuckle. "She is pretty cool."
We sit in the midst of a comfortable silence for a few minutes and i pay no attention to those coming and going from the party.
During my anxious episodes, i tend to dissociate a bit and often find it difficult to focus on my surroundings.
"Something on your mind, Quentin?" his voice manages to pull me away from my thoughts.
I glance up at him, admiring each little strand of curly hair on his head.
His eyes don't once leave mine, as the question lingers in the air.
"I don't know..." i trail off. "I just...crowds make me feel claustrophobic and parties aren't really my thing," i admit. "I only really came here because Annalise insisted we all go. I didn't want to disappoint her, or my siblings."
Mikey nods in understanding, a sympathetic smile on his face.
"Well, i can definitely relate to the latter," he says. "It's human nature, not wanting to disappoint those we care about, but i'm sure they would understand if you were to explain how you feel," he tells me, and i nod in agreement. "But hey, i'll stay out here as long as you need. I can even walk you home...if you really don't want to be here."
I'm pretty sure i must be gawking at Mikey right now, like he is some angel sent from above.
And, in fact, i wouldn't be surprised if he is, as he has all the beauty of one.
But seriously, this guy is merely an acquaintance of mine yet is advising me and offering to walk me home.
Who does that?
"No...no, it's fine," i dismiss him with a shake my head, looking up at him with awe-filled eyes and a smile which i am unable to suppress. "Thank you, though. It means a lot."
We lock eyes for a long moment and i continue to admire his features.
His tan skin, his brown eyes which match the colour of his hair so perfectly, and his cream t-shirt which so generously highlights his broad, muscular shoulders.
Mikey seems...perfect in every way.
I want to know him.
"So...you're from Venezuela, right?" i ask. "When did you move to The States?"
"I must've been around six years old," he says. "What about you?"
"I was eight," i tell him.
"Who did you come with?"
"Just my siblings and i."
Mikey nods, knowing better than to ask where my parents are.
"How many do you have?" he queries. "Siblings, i mean."
"Nine...that i know of," i answer, watching as his mouth drops at the figure.
Never does get old.
"Nine siblings?" he questions, in sheer disbelief. "God, how on earth do you put up with them?"
"I don't." i shrug, and we both laugh.
"And how many of each gender?"
"All boys, except for Rori. They were hoping for a girl after the firstborn," i explain.
"Your poor sister." he shakes his head, amazed. "And you guys are the youngest?"
"Yup. I'm the youngest triplet, as well," i tell him.
"And here i thought being the middle child of three was bad." he says, causing me to snort a laugh.
"Can we trade?" i joke.
Mikey and i remain on the stairway for what feels like hours but could only be a matter of minutes.
We chat about all sorts of things. Pointless things, like our favourite music or what we want to do when we leave school.
It is the first time in a long time where someone has made me feel heard and seems interested in what i am saying.
And when he insists we trade phone numbers, i swear my heart flutters.
"I think you and i are going to become great friends, Quentin," he says, smiling at me.
I beam at him, not bothering to conceal how elated his words make me feel.
"Me too."
— SEAMUS —
"This party sucks," my friend Jason says, as his ping pong ball lands in my Solo Cup.
"It's Lindsay. What did you expect?" Christian smirks. "To be honest, i was hoping there would be face painting and pony rides. Disappointed is an understatement," he mocks, as i take a swig from my cup.
"Tastes like ass." i grimace, eyeing the suspiciously coloured drink in my hand.
"Your favourite flavour," Jason says with a snort, causing the other guys to laugh.
Christian hands me an expensive vodka and i begin drinking that instead.
"How the fuck has he not passed out yet?" Andy — Lindsay's neighbour — gestures to me. "I swear he's had a full bottle of that shit already, if not more."
"It's the Russian in him." Christian teasingly nudges me.
"Even my light-weight of a sister would agree that this isn't strong enough," i say, slamming the bottle against the table.
"What are we doing now, boys?" Jason changes the subject.
"Literally anything but this," my best friend groans, pouring himself another drink.
"I say we go get some," the wasted — and down-right annoying — Andy sings. "There's gotta be, like, twelve hundred rooms in this place," he slurs.
The rest of us share unimpressed glances, rolling our eyes at him.
"Shut the hell up, Andy," Jason says.
"Relax, Man, i'm just kidding," Andy insists. "Like i'd fuck anyone under Mr Ferguson's roof."
"What about Lindsay's sister. Didn't you guys hook up, like, last week?" he asks, as the ginger's eyes widen in realisation.
"Ohhh, Rochelle? Yeah. We did," he proudly agrees. "Not here though...that was Melanie," he says. "Or was it Georgia?"
"My God, you must be swarming with STDs," Christian shudders, causing me to snicker.
"You're one to talk, Taylor. Heard you lost it at thirteen, to none other than Rori Łabanowski."
My head snaps in the direction of the drunken voice; another boy from our year, Marcus, comes into view.
"Watch your mouth," i seethe, my jaw clenching as i try to keep my temper at bay.
"I'm just repeating what i've heard, Bro," he slurs. "There's no need to get all anger-issues on me."
As if expecting the guys to laugh at his statement, he soon learns he was wrong when he sees the unimpressed glares on each of our faces.
"You don't wanna go there, Buddy," Christian warns.
"You're not denying it, though, are you Chris?"
"I have never, nor will i ever, get with my best friend's sister," Christian speaks in a raised tone of voice, now catching the attention of others nearby.
"I don't believe you," Marcus says, a shit-eating grin on his face. "I catch the two of you flirting all the time in Mr. Fuller's class. It couldn't be more obvious." he releases a loud laugh. "Little Chrissy has a crush on the Łabanowski's little sissy."
Christian — being the saint in the room — merely scoffs a humourless laugh.
"Just back the fuck off already, Marcus," Jason snarls.
"Or what?" Marcus continues. "I'm just making conversation, Dude. No need to be so hostile." he then turns to face me. "I'm so sorry, Seamus. Truly, i did not mean to offend you."
I say nothing as Marcus approaches me, simply biting my tongue, knowing that he is purposely making a scene.
"But you know...you're not always gonna be there to hold her hand when she crosses the street," he says, smirking as he looks me dead in the eyes.
But before i can react to his words, an ear-piercing scream redirects everyone's attention.
My eyes widen, as does Christian's, and he mouths one word to me...
'Rori?'
(Edited)