The front door creaked. I stood behind the spiral staircase, half-hiding half-snooping. Mom invited her client to our house???? Wasn't that a breech of privacy?
I texted Wyatt.
Messages
Me: her client is here!?!??!
Me: she invited them to our house
Me: without telling us 🤬🤬
Me: i-
Wyatt: business brunch
Wyatt: got it
Wyatt: clean room?
Me: why?
Wyatt: trust me
Me: clean-ish
Wyatt: i can't survive business brunches w/o a few edibles 🤪
Me: 👀
Wyatt: kidding
Me: conversation topics???
Wyatt: school
Wyatt: plans for university
Me: she didn't
Me: fucking
Me: tell US
Wyatt: good luck
Wyatt: you're goooood
Wyatt's had experience in this field. Mr. Maganlith, his father, brought him into the unique world of business owners and their clients lived in. Social anxiety was a burden, but I knew I could count on Wyatt to ease my worries.
I stepped out of my hiding spot.
Lively voices and heavy footsteps entered our home. A short blonde woman wearing a hand-knitted sweater walked into the kitchen with an even shorter brown-haired woman with a blazer on.
Mom introduced us, "Zaydence, this is Missus and Missus Chloros, my client's parents,"
These aren't the clients?
Chlorox?
Chloros???
No.
No.
FUCK!!!
"Nice to meet you," I said with a clenched jaw.
Milo entered the foyer. He wore an ironed dress shirt, and slacks. He copied my outfit. It was my first idea when Mom yelled from downstairs 'business casual!'.
She led them around the staircase, through the hallway into the dining room. I followed suit.
HOW COULD SHE DO THIS TO YOU?
MILO IS IN YOUR HOUSE!!!
MILO!
THAT MILO!
"Ohhh, you skate?" He pointed to a picture on the shelf beside the dining room table. In it, I was rollerblading backwards. Fun fact, it was taken the exact moment before I fell.
"Rollerblade," I refused to look him in the eye. I was unprepared for his arrival. Shivers didn't run down my back, they fucking sprinted.
I was supposed to be schmoozing Mom's clients to make her look good. The sole purpose of a business brunch was to schmooze. I didn't want to schmooze Milo.
"I picked up skateboarding in my free time," He tied his hair back.
Oh my Alurozor.
Those kind brown eyes were in full view. Smile lines at the sides of them.
Stop staring creep.
Maybe it was a good thing that he was here. I'd never seen him outside of school, the wellness center, or Kalsart.
No, how dare you?
This is Wyatt's crush you're talking about.
You know better.
Don't be selfish.
I smoothed wrinkles out of my shirt, and picked the seat across from him. I had no right to be excited. I shouldn't like him. He's already liked. Wyatt's claim on Milo was to be recognized. He was to be regarded as off-limits.
Mom beckoned Zeriah from out of her study session. She sat in between Mom and I. I never sat next to Mom, I never wanted to.
Dad and Milo's blonde mother brought out the quinoa bowls from the kitchen.
"My name is Trish." The brunette mother sat across from Milo. "Nice to meet the famous Denholms."
Mom talked about us? Often enough for us to be referred to as famous? Who was this woman and what has she done with my mom?
"I'm Kell," The blonde mother chose the chair across from Mom.
Milo held his phone over his bowl and the flash went off.
"Are you UpTo-ing?" Kelle raised a pierced brow.
UpTo was for old people—anyone over the age of thirty.
"It's aesthetic, it's going on my Bloqi story," he said.
Dad's eyes widened, "Youngins these days speak in codes."
"It's pretty, Dad," Zeriah translated.
Milo was pretty. His shaggy hair was pulled back in a low bun and he wore earrings with dolphins on them. Smart guys with long hair, and brown eyes were my niche.
Focus!
Trish grabbed a bottle of ketchup, "Zeriah, your mom mentioned you're applying for college."
Zeriah nodded, she was an expert at talking. She could start up a conversation with anyone. How did she do it?
It gave me an opportunity to dig in. My bowl had tofu, diced tomatoes, bell peppers, spinach, quinoa and romaine lettuce. The flavors spun around in my mouth. Dad belonged in the kitchen.
"Sorry I called you Jada that one time!" Milo whispered to me.
My mouth was full. I covered my mouth and chewed quickly. I swallowed an unchewed bit of tofu like a champ. "I'm over it."
Oww.
"Do you know what you're majoring in?" Trish scooted her chair closer to the table.
Psych.
"Psychology. I want to be a therapist."
Kell and Trish recanted their wild college days. Drinking and more drinking. Frat parties, sorority parties, club parties. They said they were bookworms in high school and university was an outlet for their untapped druggie potential.
"It's good to know whatyouwant. I changed mymajor threetimes." Trish's words slammed into each other, one after the next. She spoke as if they were her last words.
I studied them and offered tidbits of information about myself when they asked. ]
You were overthinking again. This is not bad.
Contrary to popular thought, socially anxious extroverts existed. I would know, I self-identified as one. I liked to talk, to be around people, but I rarely had the chance. Friends were needed for that. I currently had one.
Dad reminded us that we were here to celebrate Milo.
Mom's grin couldn't be contained, "Your son is very disciplined, attends every session, starts early, cleans equipment afterwards. It's a pleasure to train him."
A pleasure?
I was seeing a different side to her. A hospitable one. A nice one. It was unnerving, unusual, irregular.
"We're grateful for your expertise, Dr. Denholm," Kell bowed her head, "Aren't we?"
"Incredibly grateful," Trish chimed in.
Milo lifted a spoonful of tofu into his mouth. He grimaced and then added an unprecedented glob of ketchup to his food.
Doesn't like tofu.
Likes ketchup.
Mom did the unexpected, "Call me Evonne, we're not at the W.C."
The anger she harbored about them living in Vido wasn't present today. A handful of people were allowed to call her Evonne. Either we slipped into a parallel universe or Mom liked Milo's family. Wyatt's Dad couldn't even call her Evonne until a year into our friendship.