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three

            "Would you like something to eat? We've got poptarts, waffles, eggs if you don't mind staying for a bit..." I listed the options as Brooklyn looked around the kitchen. He had come bright and early, just as I'd suggested, although he did still look a little sleepy, as if he'd be out cold if he so much as sat down. It was clear that he wasn't used to being up at 7:30 – either that, or the jet lag was setting in.

"I'm good," He said politely, wringing his hands together.

"Are you saying that out of kindness or out of an actual lack of hunger?" I questioned his sincerity based on my knowledge of teenage boys. Maybe it was different in England, but the boys that I knew were always hungry, no matter how much they'd eaten or how long it'd been since they had. He looked down, ashamed, and traced a small circle with his shoe.

"I guess I'm a little hungry. What flavors of poptarts do you have?" He asked, and I grinned.

"Loads." They were my brother's favorite snacks, so we always kept a cluster of boxes of them in the cabinets, although, more than not, you'd reach in and only find one packet left. That frustrated my mother to no end, something to do with "storage space." More than once, I'd been greeted with an empty box when I went down for a midnight snack. He looked at the stack in awe.

"We don't have these in England," he said, reaching for a packet of s'mores.

"Really?" I asked, shocked. I could hardly imagine a life without them in it. He simply nodded instead of saying yes, because he was already scarfing them down as if he'd been traveling the desert for a week and this was his first time eating since finding his way back. I grinned, enjoying how we were already settling into a little routine where I guess his next move before he did. It was like playing a game of chess – checkmate.

He was halfway through his second package when Monster came wandering in. I scooped up the orange ball of fluff, and walked over to introduce him to Brooklyn. We'd found him at a local shelter and named him out of pure irony – The little guy wouldn't even harm a stray beetle that somehow made its way into the house.

"Brooklyn, meet Monster," I said, grabbing his paw and shaking it. I looked up to find that Brooklyn had set his half-eaten poptart down on the counter and was staring at the cat with a look of tense defense on his face.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked, a little confused by his reaction.

"I'm afraid of cats," he admitted, taking a step backwards.

"Aw, come on, he's harmless." I chided.

"His name is Monster!" He exclaimed, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Boo!" I stretched the cat out, and Brooklyn jumped, startled.

"Don't worry," I smiled, setting Monster down in the living room. "He knows when he isn't wanted." He purred and brushed against my legs, but I pouted down at him, saying, "I'm sorry bubs, but this lad over here is frightened of you, ya little fluffball." Brooklyn had cautiously resumed eating, watching us nervously out of the corner of his eye.

I strolled back to the kitchen, leaving Monster behind, and poured myself a cup of orange juice, asking, "So, why are you afraid of cats? Did one scratch you when you were little or something?" He shook his head, crumbling up the wrappers in his hand and looking around for a trash can.

"Under the sink," I guided him as he said, "I just always have been."

"Well, there's no reason to be afraid. The only thing to fear is fear itself, and such."

"Don't you have any irrational fears?" He looked at me curiously. "Spiders? Snakes? Thunderstorms?"

I had to think about it for a moment. "No, not really," I said at last.

"Come on. You must be scared of something."

"Tornadoes, maybe. But we don't really get those around here, anyways."

"Wow." He let out a low whistle, impressed. "I'm just gonna warn you now, I'm pretty much afraid of everything."

I had never lived in a way where I let fear hold me back, and I never planned to. There were too many beautiful and fantastic things in the world, even in the things that most people found scary. There was no use in missing the beauty of a spiderweb for the fear of the spider coming back. Truth be told, I'd always kind of liked spiders – They were the world's most underappreciated artists.

"How about this..." I offered. "By the end of the week, I'll help you get over your fear of cats." He looked a little uneasy at the suggestion, knowing that such a thing would include having to spend more time with one.

"But, uh, what could I do for you?" He asked, clearly a little proud of himself for being able to pull up an excuse on the spot.

"You can sing for me," I smirked, letting him know that I hadn't forgotten about his promise from the other day. He blushed, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"I mean, you already survived your first encounter with Monster," I pointed out, starting to wash my now-empty cup.

"Barely." He grimaced.

"Drama queen," I said, teasing him for his overdramatics

"I'm not a drama queen!" He shouted out in defense.

"Sssshhh." I giggled. "The rest of my family is still asleep."

"Oops."

"But I do think that I have a crown somewhere from when I was younger that you can wear..." I turned towards the stairs, where my room was, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, which made me let out a small squeal. I hated to admit how nice his touch felt, and I couldn't help but wonder what his kiss would feel like...I couldn't wait to see how the rest of the day would turn out.

I grabbed the car keys and broke into a light sprint, saying, "Catch me if you can!"

Either way, I had a feeling that I would end up happy.