Complicated

Chapter 19: Part 3; Natalie and others.

During the time I spent in Nicholas' parents' bookstore, I managed to finish The Da Vinci Code, and damn, it was so amazing that I nearly cried (although I managed not to, especially since I'm in front of my mentor). And let me tell you that I had to finish it quickly since Nicholas keeps on annoying me with his stupid one-second-long glances.

And I am pissed. Yeah, pissed, so pissed that when I was done reading the epilogue, I slammed the book *hard* on the mahogany table and slid it to him with an annoyed smile. 'Thanks for ruining the excitement of slowly cherishing a good book' I thought.

He replied with raised eyebrows, which only made me more annoyed. He slides the book into his coat and clears his throat. And with that, my anger was replaced with guilt. I should've treated him nicely.

"So, it's been an hour, and I was thinking if you have any other plans and what not." he asks. "Actually, I'm going to pick my sister up from the airport. Do you want to go with me? We're having dinner after, and dad's gonna be there." I answer as I sling one strap of my backpack over my shoulder. "That'd be great. I'm just going to tell my mum about it." he says, and nods to the woman behind the counter. 'Mum' I thought. 'Pfffft. British people'.

He tells her something and she nods, and he kisses her on her cheek as he did a while ago. He nods to me, and i stand up.

We bid goodbye to his mum and exit the bookstore. We take a taxi to the airport, and as kind as I am, i offered to pay for him, and as always, I got shot down.

It was 4 pm by the time we arrived at the airport. On schedule. It's crowded as usual, with people crying from departures and arrivals.

"So, um, what does your sister look like?" he asks. "Oh, you know, blond hair, gray eyes, long hair, skinny, fair, prettier than me, though we slightly resemble each other" I answer. "Oh, I slightly doubt that." he says. "What?" I say. " The prettier than you thing. I doubt it." he answers with a smile. I manage to smile. He seems so sarcastic. 'Oh, shut up, Nicholas' I think, sarcastically. "I think your opinions are going to be changed after you see her." I tell him, and he smirks. "Oh, really now?" he says, and I gulp.

After a long, long time of spotting blonde haired girls, I spot the right person. "Natalie!" I shout to her, and she spots me back. When she appears in front of us, she looked as stunning as ever. Nicholas, on the other hand, is in awe and his jaw dropped open when he saw her. I smirk at him, and he rolls his eyes at me. Typical Nicholas

"Hey!" Natalie says as she approaches us, eyeing Nicholas and I. "Hey! I missed you so much." I tell her, and she opens her arms for a hug. After all the hugging and the reminiscing, she finally greets Nicholas. "Hi. And who is this?" she asks with one of her eyebrows raised. Before I could introduce them to one another, Nicholas swooped in and insisted that he introduced himself.

"Nicholas Kingsley. I'm Avery's sort of mentor on writing. I saw her potential." he says with a smile as they shook hands. "Natalie. Natalie Weekes." she answers. I raise my eyebrows at Nicholas, and he raises his back.

We took a taxi to our home, and all throughout the ride, Nicholas kept stealing glances at Natalie, who is riding shotgun. "So that's how it is." I whisper as I smirk. "No it's not, love." he whispers back. "Pfft, if you're gonna make a move, please do tell me." I whisper, my smirk staying in place. "That'd be helpful, though at the same time, it's not." he whispers. "I already warned you that you're gonna doubt your opinions." I whisper. Our series of whispers catches Natalie's attention, so I quickly shut up.

As the car stopped in front of the house, Nicholas swooped in (again) and offered to pay for the taxi, but got shot down by Natalie. I smile at him as if to say: Touche, Nicholas, touche indeed.

The house was already packed by the time we enter. I could hardly recognize any of the people, excluding Tom and Renzo and their parents. 'Oh, this is gonna be an awkward night.' I think.

My mom calls us to the massively huge dinner table they've prepared in our dining area. On the table is my mother's signature dishes, its smell whafting in and out of our nostrils, causing a flood comprised of drool to appear in each and everyone's mouths.

I was forced to stand between my dad and Nicholas, with Renzo and Tom across from me in the room. Once I take the last bite of the piece of lasagna on my plate, I rush to the kitchen to dispose of it. Though as unlucky as it is, I catch Tom there.

"Hey" I say as warm as I can manage. "'Sup?" he says as he turns round from me. "Whatcha got there?" I ask, almost annoyingly. "Um... Okay, okay, you got me. I stole another piece of strawberry shortcake. I couldn't help it, it was just so.... Ugh." he says, and he backs away from the sink, revealing a piece of strawberry shortcake the size of a wrestler's fist. "And you wonder why you got fat." I tease. "I swear. I am never going to go back to that era of myself." he answers back. "Good luck with that." I say, and after the last word escapes my mouth, this really long awkward silence scoots between us. I look at everything around me to distract myself from trying to put up a conversation with him.

So the thing about awkwardness is that it's like a whirlpool. Once you get in it, you just have to wait until it spews you out, or you just have to spew YOURSELF out of it. And the thing about me is that....I don't like the idea of both options. So.....

"So what's up with you?" Tom asks. Thank God, I thought I'd have to put up another awkward conversation. "Hm? What's up with what? I'm fine, no worries." I lie. Outside, I look like rainbows and sunshine, and inside, I'm a graveyard of dreams. "How 'bout I paraphrase my question: What's up? With you and Renzo?" he says, anger or envy obviously in his voice. His nails seem to claw on the paper plate that contained the shortcake. "What? There's nothing, and I mean nothing, going on between us. We just have this unusual mutual love for sci-fi." I snap at him. I admit, I used to like him at some point, when we were, like, ten, but we're older now, and Renzo's just a thing of the past. "Um... Okay." he answers, the guilt present in his now shrinking voice. "I just... I'm sorry, Ave. It... It shouldn't be like this." he answers, and he sighs as he walks out the room.