DAYSLEEPER |

03| midnight

"Cursed by the love that I receive."

SUFJAN STEVENS | MYSTERY OF LOVE

• • •

A disembodied male voice rung alarms in Eden's ears.

She could hear Birdie's boots pivot around to face the source of the sound. That's when the dreaded protective instinct kicked Eden in the ass and she knew she was going to have to get her sister out of this one.

Eden whisked around and faced Smith who held his white front door open with a loose grip. He was dressed in olive green sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, judging by his bedhead he was either extremely tired or was interrupted while studying.

"Wrong house—sorry," Eden said quickly with a small wave.

Smith watched the two girls with crinkled eyebrows. "Nah, you came to the right place. My mom told me to wait for you here. Luckily, she's not here 'cuz if she heard this—phew."

Suddenly, Birdie had no issue stepping forward. "It's mostly my fault. Not entirely because the other half decided not to show. Point is, I'm sorry for ruining your garden. Honestly, I didn't think I was sorry but I think there's a piece of me that feels something."

He quirked an eyebrow as if she was speaking a foreign language, and Birdie might as well have been. Smith let out a low humorless chuckle, his washed-out bohemian green eyes beamed with amusement. "Well, thanks for that almost-apology, I guess it's no big deal—for me," he said.

Smith looked at me intently, but it was almost as if he had never seen Eden before.

"I'm Smith." He extended his hand out.

Eden reluctantly took a few steps forward, staring at his hand dubiously before shaking. His hand was as warm as a fireplace in Christmas and she never wanted to let go. "Eden."

"Birdie." Her sister merely lift a hand up for a small wave.

Smith grinned, and ran his hand through his hair shortly after our hands drifted apart. "Anyway, don't worry I'll drop my mother a message. I know there's something else she wanted from you in return of her 'ruined prized possessions.'" He air quoted–prized possessions–like he heard it all before and was sick of it. He thought for a moment. "Oh yeah! You're definitely not going to like it but she wants you to mend her flowers."

"I'll ask her when she wants you to start and I'll let you know sometime?" he said, somewhat unsure. Without another word said, Smith slowly closed the door and left the two sisters in the unknown.

• • •

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to put that much baking soda in there." Sage watched Braden pour two tablespoons of baking soda into a milk chocolate brownie batter.

Braeden couldn't cook for shit—in his defense, none of them could anyway.

"It doesn't really make a difference," Braeden insisted before picking up the cooking book and his eyes skimmed over the instructions. "It's going to come out the same way isn't it? I saw it on TV once."

Sage continued to leaf through her worn magazine. "Your idea of TV are competition of people actually eating roaches, worms and scorpions. Let's just say your opinion should be taken with a light grain of salt."

"Fear Factor is doing all that stuff for fifty-thousand dollars—sounds worth it to me," he retorted and Sage shot him a look of disgust before going back to her article.