Aurora

Chapter 3

"Raspberry", I said as soon as we entered the parlor. Already tired, I ran and sat on the nearest table for two and batted my lashes up at Ian.

He shook his head, a smile curving on his lips. My brother was perfect. I know many siblings don't like to say this, but hey, who said? These small realizations were glorious in my head. And not outside of the head and mouth.

While my brother had waited patiently for me to take a shower, I had washed out all the lingering traces of exhaustion with a steamy, hot shower. I had donned an oversized white hoodie with black tides, my hair up in a messy bun, and strands escaping from all directions.

As I waited for Ian, the parlor around us chirped and roared with laughter. It was only down the street from our place and had the best ice creams served in the entire Boston. I looked around, taking in families gathered around tables, enjoying, dancing and their kids trying to get rid of the clothing. God, I loved kids. I laughed silently, observing a blond woman running around their table as her kid challenged her to "catch" him.

Another roar of laughter and I looked towards the rightest corner of the parlor, my eyes landing on a table by the floor-to-ceiling window. A family of ten sat there, the grandparents, the parents, and the kids, all laughing at something the youngest kid said. My heart warmed at the sight, but among all the merriment, two harsh voices reached me, breaking me from my observation from the table to the ice cream counter.

"What do you want, woman? I came first, join the queue.", Ian thumbed behind him, where two people waited, to a girl in khaki pants and a white t-shirt, her jet-black hair in pigtails.

"Oh, please I was in the queue before you even joined.", she retaliated, her voice rising to match Ian's.

"I don't care, you weren't here when I joined, so technically, I'll collect my order first." Ian seethed into her face, the veins on his neck popping and a red hue rising to his face.

Oh my god.

The girl backed a few steps, trying to maintain the personal space my brother just wrecked. She raised a small, pale finger at him, her jaw clenched. "Stop behaving like a creep."

Ian laughed at her, his voice so loud, silencing the entire parlor. "You stop it, and join the fucking queue." His curly brown hair danced as he focused on the employee behind the counter.

The girl seethed, stomping at her foot on the ground. Oh no, not the ground but at Ian's feet
.
I gasped while I witnessed my brother's jaw locking, staring down at her so intently with his huge green eyes.

Ouch. That must have hurt.

My brother straightened his shoulders, groaning as the words escaped his mouth, "Fuc—"

"IAN", I was out of my seat within seconds, the chair emitting a loud groan as it scarped on the polished marble floor, and made my way to the counter, my eyes wide.
He opened his mouth to say something and closed it when he recognized death polling in my eyes.

"Apologize or you'll regret it"

It was as if the words dancing on the tip of my tongue had escaped but in a completely different voice.

The realization dawned as I registered that the words came from a source behind me. It was a male's voice. Strong. Piercing. And icy.

A faint voice inside me echoed that I somehow knew who it belonged to, my eyes widening further as I turned.

My heart stopped beating.

All together.

Mr. Hawthorne stood behind me, clad in a black sweater and black slacks, his hands in the pockets. His casual demeanor is icy. He stared at my brother with pure, honed violence his hair perfect and for a second, just a second, I wondered what it felt to run my hands among the dark, thick strands of black.