I walk toward Economics class, Logan catches up with me on the way in and hurriedly opens the classroom door for me.
I grin slightly, "Thanks, but I could've gotten it on my own."
"Nonsense!" He says eagerly. His eagerness, especially this early in the morning, is amusing to me and I walk into the classroom. He lets the door go in the face of the student behind him and follows me over to my seat, rushing ahead of me to pull my seat out.
I sit down hesitantly. "Why're you being weird?" I ask as Rowan takes the seat at the double desk behind us. Double desks are the enemies of trio friendships. She drops her bookbag in the seat beside her, ensuring no one else sits there.
Mr. Janison, the Economics teacher, is late as per usual. So Rowan busies herself with absently pulling my hair into a ridiculously tight ponytail. It's something she does often when I sit in front of her, I think it's just a habit of hers.
"How did your meeting with the person go?" He asks, before clarifying, "Yesterday?" His voice is quiet, only between us.
"Oh...Well um..." I hesitate, partially flattered he cares, "It went fine. It helped in some ways. I feel a little better now that it's over."
I haven't realize the way it feels as though I've just gotten a huge burden out of the way. I don't have to worry about Daniel anymore because I spoke my piece, it's said and done, and I feel lighter for it.
"That's good," He says, "I'm really happy for you, Mads."
I smile. The teacher walks in and turns boredly to the chalkboard, I knock my pen to the floor when I turn. I bend down to pick it up but Logan quickly bends down to do the same and our heads collide.
"Ow!" I exclaim, bolting upright and holding the throbbing point on my head.
"Jeez, Logan, I said spoil her, not annoy the crap out of her!" Rowan hisses.
"I'm not annoying her! I'm helping her!" Logan whispers in frustration.
"You damn near knocked her to the floor pulling out her chair this morning!" Rowan shoots back, "You've bruised her head!"
I ignore their bickering as I rub my head, "What's going on—?" I begin.
"Do you want to get a milkshake with me?" Logan asks quickly. I stop rubbing my head and look at Logan.
"Like..." I don't know what I'm confused about.
He's blushing furiously and he turns his full attention toward the desk, "Like, together? Alone together?" He clarifies.
I just watch him for a moment, Rowan pokes my back, "Well?" Even she sounds slightly invested.
I smile slightly, "Yeah," I say, "I would really like that actually."
"Mr. Evans, pay attention if you would please," The teacher says sternly. I've realized they never scold me, they don't even look in my direction hardly, I'd call it a perk of being a Rossi. I could get away with quite a lot if I wanted to.
Logan just asked me hang out.
Logan just asked me to hang out!
I'm not even sure it qualifies as a 'date' or whatever, but nonetheless, I still feel giddy inside through the rest of the class.
. . .
"What's got you smiling like the Cheshire cat?" Carlo asks me, leaning against the locker beside my own.
"Nothing," I say. It isn't very convincing, but I do drop the smile. I'm sliding the rest of my books into my locker. Carlo slips around me and before I know it, he's holding my phone just out of my reach.
"Carlo," I snap.
"I'll give it back when you tell me," He says.
"I got good marks on my math test," I lie, grabbing my phone out of his hand.
"Bullshit," He says, replacing the phone with my failed math test out of my locker.
I huff, snatching it back. "It's pointless anyway," I say in defeat, "Logan asked if I want to hang out."
"Sandro already said its fine," Carlo says.
"No, not like that. Like...You know," I shrug, "I think he likes me. But I know you guys don't really want me to be happy." Low blow. I know. But I'm still bitter about the stupid rule.
He frowns, "Come on, Maddie. You know that's not the case."
"Regardless."
I shut my locker and walk around him.
"Go on the stupid date then."
I turn to him, "Really?"
He rolls his eyes, "I mean, obviously my word isn't enough and you have to ask Sandro. But you said I don't want you to be happy, I obviously do. And if going out with that 14 year old football kid makes you happy, then I don't care."
And then I feel guilty because I know (for the most part?) that all of my brothers just want me to be happy, and while I can't speak for all of them, I know for some of them, it disappoints them that I'm not able to live the life of a young 14 year old.
And while I'm sure even if they weren't in the mafia, there'd be a no boys rule, I can still understand partially.
I hug him quickly, obviously not for too long as we're in school, but long enough to let him know I appreciate him.
When I walk toward the exit, I'm near shocked to see Sandro standing there. He's getting a lot of awe-struck or terrified stares, mixed in with giggles and whispers from students and teachers alike.
I walk over to him, "What happened?"
"Collect your things. I'm picking you up today."