Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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You can do this.
I repeat it like a mantra as I walk up the stone pathway to Mattis' house. It's been four days since my conversation with Chloé, and while I've barely been able to think about anything but coming here, I haven't felt ready.
I still don't, but Chloé pesters me with daily texts, knowing I need a somewhat gentle push.
Besides, what's the worst that can happen? Mattis gives me a taste of my own medicine, sending me away, and I spend the next however long heartsick?
Okay, that doesn't sound too fun.
My steps falter, and it's a conscious effort to push forward toward that door. I haven't heard a peep from Mattis since he dropped me off from the airport Sunday. It makes me wonder if he's come to some decisions himself.
The thought makes me nauseous.
With my heart beating irregularly in my chest, I knock on the front door. There's a sound of footsteps on the other side as I attempt to get my breathing under control, and the door is flung open.
Aran's face break into a big smile.
"Cat! Nice to see you," he says, pulling me in for a hug.
I return the embrace, both relieved and disappointed to find the house's gentles occupant. Still, as my chin rests on his shoulder for a second, I realize I've also missed Aran. I'd expected to miss my two best friends out here, Ava and Emmy, but Mattis' teammates snuck their way in at some point. I wouldn't mind saying hello to the twins, either.
"You too. How was your Thanksgiving?" I ask as we break apart.
He steps aside, so I can walk inside and leans against the wall as I take off my jacket and boots.
"Oh ya know, lots of good food was eaten, lots of thanks were given. Nothin' like being home." I can hear his southern accent a little more prominent than usual, probably from spending the weekend at home. His voice cracks at the end, but he covers it with a couch. Maybe I'm not the only bad liar. Perhaps it takes one to know one.
I wonder what it was like for Aran, growing up in the deep south. Was it warm and carefree the way I remember many a day spent with the Reeds under the LA sun? Or did it come with challenges, too? Some I couldn't even imagine?
Aran leads the way into the living room, the silence of the usually busy house unnerving. Where are the rest of them?
Aran dumps down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "What about you? Was it good being home?
I grimace, probably still the worst liar between us. "Meh. Being in LA was a bit ambivalent, but I'm glad I got to spend some time at the Reeds."
It about sums it up. When my siblings aren't home, Janice's house is the only good thing about the city I grew up in.
