Masked Risks

Chapter 3

I shouldn’t have been surprised that Erik was the son of my parent’s old friends. It made sense, since my mom did say they had just moved into the neighborhood and wanted to welcome them. It wasn’t even a big deal that he was there because I barely knew him, but the only time he did see me was the day before at school and I sounded like a complete bitch to Lindsay, and she probably told him things about me to make me seem even worse.

I was paranoid. But I also didn’t trust Lindsay and I didn’t like it when people make assumptions about me, which Erik may very well have already done.

I snapped out of my stupid paranoia and gave the group before me a small wave and a smile. “Hi, I’m Olivia.”

“Nice to meet you, Olivia,” Erik’s mom, Patty said. She seemed pleasant and calm.

“Come, come, sit down,” my mom gestured towards the sitting room that we hardly used.

The Turners followed in line behind my mom, but not before Erik smirked at me again, like he did at lunch on Friday when Lindsay pulled him away. What is with him.

I felt my dad’s hand on my back. “You look… nice.” He coughed. Maybe it was too revealing for my dad’s liking.

“Mom bought it,” I replied.

He simply nodded and we continued walking into the sitting room. Luckily, my mom was already sitting near Erik, asking him every question she could think of, so I was able to sit at another couch. My dad sat down next to me.

“These couches are kind of uncomfortable,” I mumbled to my dad.

“I always thought they were for decoration,” my dad laughed. “I didn’t know they were intended to be sat in.”

We chuckled quietly with each other. The doorbell rang again. My mom stood up and nodded at my dad. There’s always someone already standing at the door to answer it, but my mom always has to greet them. At least I could wait to see them later.

A caterer dressed in black pants and a white dress shirt came into the room. “Champagne?” They held out a tray with several flutes of champagne to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, who each took one. “Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked Erik.

“No, thank you,” he answered.

The caterer looked at me. “Diet Coke Lime, please.” He nodded and returned to the kitchen. I didn’t usually drink soda, but on special occasions, like tonight, I indulged myself with the fizzy drink.

I felt Erik’s eyes on me. His parents had abandoned him to walk around the room and look at some of the art on the walls.

Please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me, I silently chanted, pretending not to notice him sitting alone. Why do I care so much, though? He probably doesn’t even remember seeing me at school. I have that kind of forgettable face.

“Rick, Patty, I’d like to introduce you to Mary and Paul Simon. They live across the street,” my mom came back into the room with my dad following.

The caterer came back with my drink and continued making rounds as more guests arrived. I tried to distract myself with my drink. I looked up at the large clock mounted above the fireplace. 6:05. Oh my God, it’s going to be a long night.

Suddenly, I felt a presence beside me. I turned to my left to find Erik sitting next to me. Was I the only young person here, right now? Does he not have anyone else to talk to?

“I don’t think we officially met. I’m Erik.” He held out his hand for me to shake it.

Deciding to be pleasant, even though this was the third time we had met, I shook his hand. “Olivia.”