Don't go.
Hearing the urgent plea in his tone, I almost wanted to say yes, but I held on strong.
I knew if I stayed any longer, those fake smiles and laughs will eventually turn into something real. If that happened . . . forgiveness might be a possibility. And I couldn't let that happen. Forgiveness was a sign for the weak, and I was no longer that pathetic, loser anymore.
"At least stay for dinner."
"I can't. I need—"
His eyes rounded and became glacier under the sheen of light. "Please. It's not everyday Megan gets to see another guest at the dinner table."
I squeezed my eyes shut. Why did he have to bring his sister into this?
After everything, why was his words affecting me so much? Why was I even feeling guilty about anything? Why wasn't I saying no? And why the hell was his eyes looking at me like that? The sorrow that flowed through them was like nothing I'd ever seen before; dark and endless.
I let out a loud sigh and pushed my hair back. "Fine." God. John was right—I was a pushover.
His lips immediately formed a smile at my answer. "Thank you! I promise, you won't regret it."
I nodded. His words better ring true, otherwise, I'm screwed.
Not moving an inch, he continued to look at me. A glint filled his eyes. I ducked my head down and realized his hand was still wrapped around my wrist. I tugged on it, hoping he'll get the hint. When he didn't, I waved my other hand in front of his face.
"Um, Thomas."
His eyes blinked close. "Yeah?"
"My arm."
His eyes bulged, releasing my hand quickly like it was hot lava. His cheeks tinted pink, while he mumbled something under his breath and said a quick, "sorry", and backed away.
I laughed at his reaction, catching myself when I saw what I was doing. Why was this happening? "It's um . . . fine." I swallowed, and looked away so I wasn't looking directly into his eyes. "Do you mind if I make a quick phone call? Just to let my mom know where I am."
"Go ahead," he said. I could tell he had a huge smile on his face, even though I wasn't looking at him. Just knowing that, caused my face to burn up.
Not wanting him to see me, I turned around and took out my cell phone. Immediately, I saw a bunch of missed calls from my mom, and a text from my brother. The urge to run back home and rush to his college attacked my senses when I realized I couldn't see my brother whenever I wanted anymore. He'd gone back to college earlier this morning knowing full well I would stop him if I wasn't at school. But when I saw that he was doing fine, I sent him a quick reply, wishing him luck on his classes.
Now onto my mom...
Taking one deep breath, I quickly dialed her number and brought the phone up to my ear. Her voice came on the second the call went through.
"Honey?" She breathed heavily. It sounded erratic. "Where are you? I'd been trying to reach you for the past—"
"—Mom, I'm okay." I heard a sigh when I finally said something. "I'm at a friend's house, and I guess we sort of lost track of time . . ."
"Whose house?"
I groaned loudly. "Mom." Sometimes she could be worse than my brother.
"What? I need to know just in case something happens to you."
I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. "Mom. Nothing is going happen to me, and if you must know, I'm with Thomas. He wants me to stay for dinner."
"Thomas?" she questioned. "Sweetie, what are you—"
"—Mom, please don't say anything. Just, trust me on this, okay?" I whispered. I knew she wouldn't understand. At first I didn't either. But Amanda was right. I shouldn't let this go. I was humiliated, pushed around, and bullied. I had scores to settle, and backing out wasn't an answer.
"Fine. But—" Ugh. I knew it was too good to be true, "—don't think you're off the hook yet. I want a full explanation when you get home. Seven o'clock. No later. And have your friend drive you back. I don't want you walking home alone, got it?"
I groaned under my breath. "Yes, Mom." For some strange reason, she never wanted me to walk anywhere alone, even if it was perfectly sunny outside. If I had to go anywhere, it must be within the perimeters of the house. If she ever found out I'd broken that rule numerous times, she'd have a heart attack. No joke.
"Good." It was clearly heard in her tone of voice that she was smiling right now. "I'll see you soon. Love you, honey."
"Love you too, Mom."
When the call ended, I put my phone away, and turned back around. In the midst of a silent panic, I visibly jumped seeing Thomas so close to me. I clutched my shirt, and took in short, choppy breaths. "Don't fucking do that!"
He slunk meekly, his shoulders hunched. "Sorry."
My body stiffened momentarily. I cleared my throat, ignoring the freaking heartache stirring in my chest. "Just, don't do that again."
He only nodded, and stood there with his hands in his pockets. A second passed, and the guilt was still pestering me—almost eating me. "Ah . . . so um, what's for dinner?" I sputtered out. A fire burnt in my throat the moment his eyes met mine. God. What the hell is wrong with me today?
Remember the fucking past, Izzy. Remember everything you had to endure because of him.
"Whatever you like," he stated with a wide smile. "I'll do my best to make anything you want."
"Anything I want, huh?"
He smirked. "Anything."
"Mmh . . . what about spaghetti and meatballs?"
He grinned. "You're in luck," he said as he headed towards the kitchen. "That's Megan's favorite dish." He reached forward and grabbed his apron. I laughed when I saw the tiny pig with a toque hat, a size too big on its head with the words "kiss the chef" embedded in the middle of the material. It was honestly too cute on him.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Wait. Did I just call Thomas, cute?
No. I called the apron cute. Not, Thomas. God. What the fuck am I thinking?
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing." I looked down and ran a hand through my hair. "So, um . . . spaghetti and meatballs is Megan's favorite as well?"
His eyes lit up at the mention of his sister's name. "She loves them."
"Really? Me too. I've been craving them so much lately, but I haven't had them in a while," I told him the moment he ran the water in the sink.
"Why's that?" he asked over his shoulder.
I shrugged. "I kind of went on a diet."
He turned around the second I said that. "Why? You're already skinny enough." I snorted. And yet he told me the exact opposite last year.
"Thanks," I said, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes at him. It got even more difficult when he told me I shouldn't be losing weight anymore.
Me. Not lose weight. Ha. If only he knew who he was talking to. He wouldn't be saying that anytime soon.
"—don't you—"
I sighed. This guy really doesn't stop. "If I promise I won't, can you please start dinner? I'm starving."
He smiled. "Deal."
We seal the deal with a handshake, his hand warm in mine. The longer he held my hand, the stronger I felt this nerve tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach. The feeling washed away the moment he let go. I watched as he glided across the kitchen, stopping when he got to the stove.
"Do you want any help with that?"
He stared at me with raised brows. "You mean with the stove?"
"No, not that. I meant with the cooking."
"You want to help me cook?"
I nodded. "I always wanted to learn, but my parents doesn't want me touching the stove."
"How come?"
"They don't want me near anything dangerous, especially stoves that could potentially harm me with their 'explosive flames'."
He chuckled. "Well, since this is your first time cooking, how about we start off with something a bit easier?"
"What's that?"
"Salad."
I pressed my lips firmly together. "Only if you help me cook the main dish next time."
"Sounds good to me." His mouth twitched upwards, dimpling his cheek. "Follow me."
I did what he said and kept pace with him. Thomas went over to the fridge and took out a handful of ingredients. He laid the dressing and romaine lettuce on the counter and placed the spinach and carrots on top of a cutting board.
"I'll boil some water, and you can start putting the salad together. Just be careful when you slice up the carrots."
"Okay."
I glanced around the kitchen and looked for a bowl I could toss the salad in. Seeing something I could use on the top cabinet, I walked over and stood up on my tippy-toes. I reached out for one of the bowls but I was having difficulty touching it.
"Here, let me." My eyes enlarged and the hairs on the nape of my neck bristled when his hot breath blew across my ear. Knowing that he was right behind me made my heart raced at tremendous speeds.
"Thanks."
With my eyes focused on the ground, I took it quickly, and made my way over to the countertop.
Setting the bowl down, I gathered up the fresh vegetables and ripped open the bag of spinach and Romaine lettuce. I threw a generous amount into the bowl, and seal the leftovers away.
Now, for the carrots.
"Um, where are the knifes?"
He looked up from the pot of boiling water, and pointed to the drawer underneath me.
"Thanks." I opened the drawer and knelt down. I grabbed the knife with the green handle, and stood up straight.
I snatched the carrot and placed it in the middle of the cutting board. I held the carrot steady in my left hand, and lowered the knife slowly. In the end, the slice looked like a wedge, thin at one end and thick on the other.
It wasn't until I got to the tip of the carrot, that my cutting skills became somewhat decent. Hopefully, Thomas and Megan didn't mind eating weirdly shaped carrots.
"Okay, I'm done."
Thomas gave the pot a good stir, and then made his way over to me. He sampled the salad I put together, and gave me a thumbs up as he chewed. "Not bad."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Really."
A smile curled around my lips. To anyone else, it was a just a simple bowl of salad. But to me, it represented something entirely different—my independence.
"Izzy, can you please get Megan for me?"
I glanced up from my phone just in time to see Thomas setting the table. Finally. I could almost taste the pasta covered with tomato basil sauce, and I couldn't wait to actually eat it.
"Yeah, sure."
Heading down the hallway Thomas had gone through earlier, I noticed a sign with Megan's name on it. It was spelled out in big, blocky letters with musical instruments decorating the space around her name.
I reached my arm out and opened the door. I peeked inside and saw the color purple literally everywhere. Her bedsheets, the rug, even her desk was purple.
I stared in awe as I quietly stepped inside. Megan was sleeping soundlessly in her bed with a stuffed bear attached to her arm. When I saw how peaceful she looked, I almost didn't want to wake her up. But, I knew I should. She probably wouldn't want to miss dinner anyways.
Kneeling down next to her, I placed my hands on her shoulder, and gave it a gentle shake. Her body stirred for a moment, but her eyes didn't open.
"Megan." I shook her again and called her name a bit louder.
This time, her eyes immediately opened.
Her eyes were stunning. To think Thomas' blue irises were striking was a lie compared to her irises. They were the deepest shade of blue...almost translucent, glossy, like sapphire gems.
She sat up straight and let out a loud yawn.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Isabella, but you can call me, Izzy if you want."
She nodded. "Are you Tommy's friend?"
I didn't want to lie and say that we were and ruin the possibility of her finding out later. So, I just smiled, and lowered my head. "Your brother wanted me to get you for dinner—"
Her eyes lit up the moment dinner was mentioned. "Tommy makes the best food ever! You're going to love his cooking." She pushed the covers back, and scrambled out of bed. The second her feet touched the ground, she grabbed my hand, and tugged on it. "Come on, Izzy. Tommy's waiting!"
I laughed, and let her drag me forward. She was definitely a friendly girl.
When she saw her brother in the living room, she let go of my hand and ran towards him. Her arms wrapped themselves around Thomas' waist the moment she reached him.
"Hey there, kiddo." Thomas' large hands ruffled her hair, affectionately. "How was your nap?"
"Great!" She let her face flood with a smile. "What's for dinner?" she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Thomas chuckled and lowered himself so they were eye level with each other. "Spaghetti and meatballs."
"You're making my favorite? You're the best big brother ever," she shouted, and threw her arms around his neck.
"Only because I have the world's greatest sister." He grinned, and lifted her up. She giggled, while her head rolls onto his shoulder. "Come on." He patted her back, "let's get you seated."
He carried her over to the dinner table and sat her down on her feet. Megan took the offered seat when her brother pulled it out for her.
With her seated, he glanced back at me, and motioned his hand at the chair next to his sister.
"You can sit next to Megan."
I smiled, and headed over to where they were and took the seat that sat opposite from his. I licked my lips when I looked down at my plate. The rich aroma of the dish wafted down and beckoned me to stuff my face with its delightful taste. Picking up my fork, I slathered a general helping of salad on top of my plate.
I was about to mix the ingredients together when I heard a gasp from Megan. I immediately thought the worse and dropped my fork. I gazed at her, and felt the tension leave my body. My breathing returned back to normal when I realized she was only pointing to my plate.
"You do that, too?" she asked, her eyes round.
"What? This?" I asked, referring to the lettuce on top of my spaghetti.
Megan nodded. "I thought I was the only one! Tommy said it was weird."
"What?" I gasped in mock horror. "But that's the best part!"
He held his hands up in surrender, took a step back, and finally sat down. "Okay." He laughed with a slight curve to his lips. "I take it back. Mixing food isn't weird."
"Prove it."
Glancing down at his food, Thomas threw a good portion of the salad into his bowl of pasta and took a huge bite out of it. "Happy?" he mumbled around a mouth-full of food.
Megan giggled quietly at her brother.
"Peachy." I smirked.
After dinner, and some light conversations with the Reed siblings, Megan showed me some of her musical instruments she had stored in her room. According to Thomas she was a pro at it. I only heard a couple of notes, but by the sound of it, she was definitely a promising young talent.
"So, would you say you enjoyed yourself tonight?" Thomas asked. His cheeks grew warm when our eyes met.
"To be honest, I did," I confessed. More than I thought I would. "And the food was delicious. Megan was right, you do make the best food ever."
He looked down. "T-thanks." He laughed, and scratched the back of his neck. "Um, do you need to go back anytime soon?"
"Yeah, my mom wanted me home by seven."
"Want me to drive you back now?" he offered. "It's already half past six."
"Please. I mean . . . if that's not too much of a hassle for you."
"It's not," he reassured me with a grin. "But, I have to bring Megan as well. I can't leave her behind."
"That's fine with me." Megan was a sweetie, and I wouldn't mind spending time with her.
He acknowledged my comment with a nod, and shouted his sister's name. "Grab your coat. We need to drive Izzy back home."
"Coming!"
When Megan raced out of her room, she already had her coat on. Thomas went ahead and carried her to the backseat of his car and buckled her in. I stood behind him, and waited, not sure if I should sit up front. But, when he held the passenger side door open for me, I gladly got in and told him thanks.
The engine roared to life soon after. He glanced behind his shoulder, switched the car to reverse, and pulled out. When he reached my house, the night had already fallen, and the street was enveloped in a blanket of darkness.
"I guess this is where we say our goodbyes."
"Yeah."
A heavy feeling threatened to consume me. It was almost like my body was telling me not to leave. Like it wanted to be near Thomas. Like it wanted to stay, and that scared the shit out of me.
"When you visit Tommy again, I'll play his favorite song for you," she said. Her voice snapped me back to my senses. My heartbeat returned back to normal.
I twisted my body around and saw her hand clutching the back of my seat. Excitement poured out of her like a beam of ray; she glowed from the inside out.
"Promise?"
She beamed. "Promise."
I smiled and cast my eyes back on Thomas. "Good night, Thomas."
A grin spread over his face.
"Good night, Izzy.