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GOLD RUSH ✹ THREE (NATE PLEASE.)
" THE PRODICAL SON RETURNS." are the words that my brother elects to use when he opens the door to the dining room where myself, my sister and mum are currently sitting around — teetering around a conversation that doesn't include Nate Archibald ( which I'm finding near impossible as Sloan is constantly bringing him up, hoping I spill about our conversation this morning).
He's in a suit that he's quite obviously tugged at the tie of on the car ride over here — hairs ruffled with and his eyes that are the same sea glass green colour that all three of us share look tired. But that comes with being the firstborn son, the heir to the dynasty — a burden I'm glad that I don't shoulder, and one I don't know honestly how James deals with.
He's been working at the company for years. full-time since he turned eighteen and decided to skip out on university but internships when he was in school. Now at the ripe age of twenty-one, he's destined for a hopeful future at Buchanan Inc.
Mum drops her cutlery in a sudden clatter on her plate — ushering herself to stand up and go and hug her son. Mothers and sons, am I right? I got a hug on the steps of a house after six months but he gets a welcome back like he's been off to war in a day or two he's most likely not seen, my mother. But I think it's just expected when he has the entire weight of the Buchanan name on his shoulders since the day he was born.
My mother's future sits in my brother's hands like it did once my dads. More so now that she and my dad are divorced.
James looks around as Mum lets go of him, clocking his younger sister who sits in the chair closest to him and is aching her neck craning her head to look at him ( aka me).
He gives me a small smile " Oh Stella, I didn't know you were back. Is it Christmas already?" I roll my eyes at his comment as Sloan scoffs in my defence.
" she's been all over gossip girl.." the youngest of us three speaks as James swats his hand slightly in the air and pulls out a chair beside me.
" Sloan, you know I don't care for those teenage gossipy things you three read." he hums, toying with his suit jacket as he slouches beside me " I'm far too mature for that."
Sloan too similarly drops her cutlery to my mum and gives him a small glare " James didn't you cry at Notting Hill the other day?" my eyes widen as I whip my head around to look at my older brother who looks intently displeased with our younger sister for speaking what was not to be spoken. We make many promises between us a siblings, and many of them are broken. Except for the important ones, we never break the important ones.
He folds his arm "It's a sad movie." He mumbles under his breath, I stifle on my laughter as I exhale.
"But now that you've noticed my appearance, no it is not Christmas." I tell him, as he furrows a brow, " and I am in fact, back for good."
