"Who is that?"
"You don't want to know." I glanced in the direction of the fan and sighed, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind my ear as I looked from her to my brother.
"So I'm just supposed to ignore the phone pointed in our direction?" he asked in return. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the suitcase, pushing it toward him with a sweet smile as he mumbled, "Okay then."
One long flight to Grand Rapids was more than enough time for me to become acquainted with Brittany and her obsession with the curly haired boy who had come into my life and just as quickly exited it.
She knew his background, every speck of it from his family and their names to the school he had attended. She knew his favorite color, his favorite drink, what the tattoos on his arms and chest stood for, where the band would be the next few months, and even showed me a picture of the tickets she had bought to see them perform at a venue the following year.
She was a Directioner, as she put it, and I came out of the flight knowing a great deal more about Harry than I had previously. To the point that I wasn't quite sure whether or not she should have been the one dating him instead of me.
But I wasn't dating him.
I never had been, really.
I pulled the car door closed and gave her a small wave, eliciting a cry of protest as she ran after the car with her hand still clutched to the phone. Jake gave me a strange expression and I just held up my hand solemnly.
"What happened in New York stays in New York."
"Eventful then?"
"That's an understatement."
He lifted an eyebrow in my direction but I just shook my head. My brother was the last person who needed to be fed the grisly details of mine and Harry's New York adventure. Even if he did need to know, now was not the time. I wanted to clear my head of the chaos and get back to my roots -- roots which included a quick trip to my mother's house and what I hoped to be a home cooked meal.
"How's mom?" I asked, shifting the conversation in a neutral direction.
And that was all it took to start my little brother venting about her incessant prodding at his choice of college.
The venting lasted the entire drive back to Allendale, but I would be lying to say that my attention was on Jake and his problems. Call me a bad sister, whatever, but my eyes were glued to the text message I received from Jules at the notification of me having landed in Michigan.
<Jules>: WTF?!
One of the grainy pictures was attached, and she followed the text up with a series of Emojis that would have been humorous had the pretense of the situation been different.
<Claire>: With my brother...will call you later.
<Jules>: You were snogging at the work function?
<Jules>: No wonder you two were gone for so long.
Clearly she didn't understand the idea of talking around company of a more discreet variety.
<Jules>: What else happened?
Nope, not going there.
<Claire>: Will call you later.
I shoved the phone in my pocket as Jake pulled the car to a stop in front of the red-bricked home on the corner. It went off immediately but I ignored it and took in a breath, readying myself for my mother and everything that came with her.
I loved her, really, but I'm not quite sure that overbearing would be enough to cover her full range of personality traits.
Jake sighed and raked a hand through his medium length brown hair, frowning over the console at me as he unclicked his seatbelt. "So help me if she says one more thing about college--."
"Then we'll leave," I interrupted. "I'll just tell her you forgot to let Lynx out before you left. Deal?"
"And that, Claire, is why you are my favorite sister."
"I'm your only sister."
"Minor technicality."
I followed him out of the car and strolled up the concrete walkway, which was as immaculately trimmed as usual. That was the gardening service's doing. My mother wasn't a dirt person and the sight of a bug would have sent her to an early grave.
Bugs were the devil, or so she claimed. She claimed a lot of things, actually, but I can't say that I didn't agree with her about insects. I too ran away at the sight of them.
Either way, she was not the one responsible for the freshly cut grass, neatly trimmed hedges, and/or blooming flower gardens that ran along the right side of the house. She could probably lay claim to the wreath hanging on the door with a G on the front, but only because it mirrored her vintage taste and need for home adornments.
Jake knocked on the door and we stood there quietly, the sound of heels clacking against the floor until they came to a stop on the other side of the threshold.
The door opened shortly after and there stood my mother, perfectly coifed blonde hair and makeup to boot. It would be a cold day in hell when Charlotte Grant did not have herself dressed to perfection.
Luckily, that need for perfection hadn't rubbed off on Jake or I. I would have killed him if there had been another human running around the house squawking about missing hair products.
"Claire!" she squealed, enveloping me in a hug the minute her blue eyes found mine. I returned the hug and she pushed me back a little, scanning my appearance from head to toe. "Oh my goodness, you dyed your hair! And you got it cut! It's lovely."
"Thanks."
While happy at her approval, I didn't necessarily need it. Still, it was nice to be greeted with warmth from someone I knew loved me than from someone who had treated me terribly.
Stop thinking about him.
She released me and moved on to my brother, wrapping him in the same kind of hug I had just been encased in. "Jake!"
"Hi mom," he stated, giving her a small pat on the back. With her heels she stood just at his shoulder, and the pair of them made me feel slightly disinclined in the height department. "Come in, the both of you. Spaghetti is on the stove and I'm just about to pull the French bread from the oven. Are you hungry? I hope you're hungry."
Jake and I followed behind her, the sound of classical music humming dimly in the background. The house was warm and cozy, and smelled of baked apple pie Yankee candles...the smell of my youth.
"How was your flight, Claire?" she questioned, reaching for a large slotted spoon that sat just beside the stove.
I took a seat on one of the bar stools near the island and shrugged, resting my chin in my hands as I watched her. "It was long," was the only answer I could formulate.
I could go into detail about my encounter with Brittany, but to do that would mean to divulge more than just a short story about my exchange with a semi-obsessed Harry Styles fan. That divulgence would only bring about more questions, and given the circumstance it was best to just keep things simple.
"Well, I for one am happy to have you home. Katie Baxter next door has also been asking about you. You remember her, right?"
I nodded, raising an eyebrow at why in the world Katie, a high school senior whom I tutored in my younger years, would be asking about me.
My mom, however, followed up her statement with, "She's been talking to her mom about colleges and is looking into a fashion major. She wanted to interview you for the school paper. You know, get an inside prospective on the fashion world. Who better to ask than a friend?"
"I wouldn't say I'm a pro on the matter, mom."
"You have more experience in that department than any of us," my mother argued. "Besides, it's for the paper and she won't be doing the piece until the fall when they get back to school. You have plenty of time to gain experience."
"I'm not very good with interviews."
"It's Katie."
"Katie is a person, asking questions. It's not any different than anyone else. I'm not good with interviews mom--."
"Claire, just do the interview. I'm not asking much." I sighed, biting my tongue at the question that had quickly turned into a command. That hadn't taken long. Seriously, it was probably a new record or something. "Her mother asked me as a favor and I told her you would."
And that was what she always did -- volunteered me for things without permission.
"It won't take long and it would mean the world to her," she continued. "You remember what it's like to be that age."
"I do," I agreed, "but did you really volunteer me without my consent? You told Mrs. Baxter I would? You know I get uncomfortable with those sorts of things."
"You have an irrational fear of everything," my mother answered in return. "A fear which I honestly thought New York would have ridded you of. Did you not have to present anything to anyone?"
I scoffed at her lack of sensitivity. My fears weren't irrational. The clown one might have been, but I blamed that fear on the babysitter who let me watch Poltergeist when I was young and impressionable. Any kid who watched someone get sucked under a bed by a clown would have been scared too.
"I gave a few presentations, yes, but that was for work. That's my livelihood, and it doesn't make it any easier." I took in a breath. Today had already been a long day and this was not the way to cap it off. "You know what, it's fine, I'll talk to Katie but please don't volunteer me for things. You know I hate it when you do that."
My mother clearly didn't like being reminded of things which she already knew and answered with, "Well, somebody is being melodramatic."
"Says the woman who makes a big deal out of everything," Jake butted in.
I turned to see my brother chomping at the bit to get in a dig. I wagered that was probably due to their unresolved disagreements over his college situation, but none-the-less I was happy for the backup.
My mother's lips spread into a thin line as she leaned against the counter. "Jacob Nathaniel Reynolds, don't you dare say I'm making a big deal out of anything. Your sister is being trivial."
"Pardon my disrespect, mom, but you're being trivial. She doesn't want to do the interview. Leave her alone."
"She is my child. I'll talk to her with or without your permission."
"I'm not listening to this," was all I managed to get out before Jake answered with: "You're pressuring her to do something just like you're trying to force your opinions on me. You're so controlling."
So much for the peace and quiet of Michigan.
I found the bathroom and locked the door, staring at myself in the mirror. I should have just gone straight home, skipped the visit with my mother and dealt with her wrath over the telephone. It would have saved me the drama and I would have been tucked away safely in the confines of my apartment. The one place, it seemed, where I was free to do as I pleased.
Honestly, the argument was stupid and I knew it. We were in a heated disagreement over whether or not I would be doing a school paper interview, but it was the principle behind it that really nagged at me.
My mother always did this-- she always made decisions for me.
Growing up it was an understandable concept because frankly she was the only one around to raise two children, but as I got older I thought her helicopter tendencies would lessen. They hadn't.
I doubted they ever really would.
I sighed and ran my hands over my face, taking just a second to survey the exhausted female in front of me. She was tired, still wearing the last ill-fated interaction with Harry, and the long flight with an overly-talkative teenager. Now she could tack on an argument between her, her mother, and her brother.
The end result was someone who looked like a zombie rather than a human. All I needed was the rotting flesh to complete the look.
My phone buzzed against my leg and I took it out, figuring Jules probably wasn't one to wait on baited breath for anything. As it turned out, I was correct.
There were at least seven texts from her; a few of which held the additional photos of Harry and me that were pasted on TMZ and the rest questions about what exactly had gone on between us while in New York.
It's not like I had kept some huge secret from her, but there was no denying the contents of the photographs and I typed in a quick response to remind her that I would call her as soon as I got home.
I moved to return the phone to my pocket but it buzzed before it was all the way in.
"Seriously, Jules."
The name that flashed across the screen, however, was worse.
Harry Styles.
I felt my cheeks heat as I stared at the name, knowing good and well that he should have been prepping for a flight to South America. I didn't want to read the words, I actually didn't want anything to do with him, but I turned off the screen and made a conscious effort to read the words later -- when I was somewhere I could digest whatever it was he had written without fear of my judgmental mother or worse...an emotional breakdown.
If I was going to cry I could at least do it in the confines of my room.
Save myself some dignity and a whole lot of questions from my family members who were already at odds.
It seemed like the most reasonable option at the time, and my only option given the fact that Jake was the driver, so I gave myself a quick pep talk and pulled open the door.
Only to be greeted by, "Mom, I didn't spill the spaghetti sauce on purpose."
"It's all over my white rug!"
I cursed, instantly reminding myself of Harry, and cursed again as I entered the dining room to find my mom knelt on the carpet with a dish rag in hand, and my brother looking quite shocked that the incident had taken place at all.
"It's fine," I stated, walking directly to my mother whilst shooting Jake a look that read good going you idiot. "We'll pick up one of those heavy duty carpet cleaners from the store."
"What about dinner?" my mom questioned, doing her best to mend what I was ninety-nine percent sure would be a stained carpet. This was why people didn't let young adult males around blindingly white pieces of furniture and/or home décor. It was like putting a bull in a china shop and asking them not to break something.
Common sense people.
"Who's up for pizza?" My mother groaned and Jake instantly raised his hand. "Good. Pizza it is."
***
One large box of pizza, one tense family conversation, and one car ride later, I found myself at home in the small confines of my quaint apartment.
It was good to be home, though Jake clearly hadn't cleaned since he'd been there, but I would take it for what it was worth and just enjoy the fact that I was finally able to proceed with my life in a place that was mine.
I pushed open my bedroom door, Lynx nipping at my heels for attention as I placed my luggage inside the room and flipped on the light.
It was exactly as I had left it and that in and of itself brought a smile to my face. All of the chaos, all of the crazy insanity that I had endured the last two weeks had been eye opening, but this was exactly the same. This was me and it was where I belonged.
I shut the door and walked toward the bed, throwing myself atop the grey and pink color-blocked comforter. I wanted to lay there forever, my blue eyes focused on the plain white ceiling, but the buzzing just off to my left let me know that there would be no avoiding the inevitable.
"You have zero patience," was how I greeted my friend, knowing good and well she would agree before she simply stated true. "I told you I would call when I could," I continued. "Harry Styles isn't necessarily a conversation topic I can entertain in front of my brother."
"He would be opposed to the idea of you snogging a celebrity in public, behind a venue in which you were supposed to be attending a work function, and whom you had been assigned to style while in New York?"
I needed to make a mental note to have Jules summarize all of my major life conflicts.
"Yes," I answered, not oblivious to the scoff she let out at the idea of Jake not being happy with the fact that I had indeed done those things. "I'm slightly conservative and I doubt my brother or my mother would have been thrilled with any of that."
"Prudes."
"Says the girl who was raised around that scene," I answered, shifting to get closer to the headboard. "Seriously, though, calm down with the texts. I was in the middle of a family dinner. How awkward would that have been?"
"Slightly," she agreed, her semi-accented voice coming across the line sounding a little thicker than it had in person. "So, what's the scoop here? You, Claire, have been a terrible friend and have neglected to divulge what exactly happened between you and wonder boy. Clearly the paps weren't oblivious."
"Clearly," I answered dryly. "I wagered that much from the photos posted all over TMZ. Would it be illegal to sue for privacy invasion?" It was a shot in the dark, but when Jules laughed at my mention of doing anything I shrugged it off. "I figured that would be the answer."
"It comes with the territory," she replied. "Why do you think people in the public eye tend to go off the deep end?"
"Because of things like this."
I knew that from having spent the time with Harry that I had, but I didn't understand it fully until I was faced with it. I hated to think of how he'd felt all those times.
Nope, I wasn't thinking at him at all.
This was only a recollection of what had happened, not a reopening of Claire Reynolds' attraction to Harry Styles. That was practically asking for trouble and I couldn't change things.
I wouldn't change things.
"So what happened?"
"It's a long story," I started.
"Trust me, dear, I've got the time. Get to talking and don't stop until you tell me everything."
~~~===~~~
A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry it took me longer to update than usual. My brother got married Friday and I spent the majority of the week helping them get ready. =) Anyway, I'll try to update soon. Thank you so much for being patient.
Please don't forget to vote and comment. It was fun writing a chapter in a different place and I'm anxious to know what you think about Claire's family.
xx