WHEN SCHOOL ENDS, I ride home with George since John had football practice after school and he was planning on hanging out with the guys for quite some time. He told me it would be pretty late when John comes back home. I told him I was fine by it and just to be careful and safe, giving him a quick kiss goodbye before following George through the school's parking lot and climb into the passenger seat, fiddling with my thumbs nervously as I try to figure out what to say to Mr. Laurens tonight. George notices my nervousness and eyes me with concern as he starts up his car. He frowns a little, tilting his head as he brushes back a few fallen auburn bangs that's in my eyes.
"You alright, Alexander?" George asks. I worry my lower lip, glancing at him quickly and then back at my hands in my lap.
I nod, swallowing the lump down my throat.
"Mhm. I'm fine, Dad," I say. "Just uh...just nervous..."
"About what, son?"
"Um...John told me that his father, Mr. Laurens, he uh...he told me that his father wants to meet me."
"Meet you?"
I nod. "Personally..." I glance at George's profile. His face remains straight, eyes on the road now. "Like interview me, is what John compared it too. Uh..." I clear my throat. "To uh...ask what my intentions and stuff are with his son and all that..."
George's lips curl slightly. "Ah, yes. Meeting the parents. I've done that before. Martha's parents aren't exactly the um...accepting and trusting people immediately type...they're more of the..." George clears his throat. "Paranoia type people."
"Just like you, huh?" I say, arching an eyebrow and folding my arms over my chest, leaning against the window sill in the car.
"What?" George splutters. "I'm not...paranoid..."
I give George a knowing look. "Dad..."
He sighs, running his hand through his ginger-colored hair, his cheeks puffing out as he exhales sharply. "Okay, maybe I am a little paranoid. But I'm just trying to look after you, Alexander."
Before I could open my mouth to protest, George snaps with his finger pointed at me, "I don't care how old you are, son. I know you're old enough to make your own decisions in your life, Alexander, but like I said before: I'm just trying to look after you, my boy."
I smile sheepishly a little, glancing out the window now instead of his profile, staring at the massive steel skyscrapers towering over us as they blur together as we zoom past them, flashing random advertisements on their sides. Pedestrians mill about, chatting with one another and laughing a little bit and children rushing through the crowds, playing tag on the sidewalks it looks like. I smile a little at them, my palm resting on the corner of my chin.
"You remind me so much of him, Alexander," George says suddenly after a few minutes of silence in the car, attempting to start a conversation. I frown with curiosity as I whip my head over my shoulder. I raise an eyebrow.
"Of who, Dad?" George's lip curls upward slightly when I say the word "Dad" probably out of pride. He clears his throat and glances at me for a split second before returning his gaze at the road in front of him.
"My brother. Your uncle," he says.
"My uncle?" I prompt, suddenly intrigued. George never told me he had a brother the three years I've lived with him.
YOU ARE READING
Helpless (Book 1)
FanfictionSeventeen-year-old Alexander Hamilton should feel lucky. He should feel lucky that he survived the hurricane and the illness he and his mother had when he was twelve. He should feel lucky that he has a family now, an adoptive one at that. He doesn't...
