It only takes one moment to change your life forever.
It only takes one decision to alter the course of your future.
It only takes bravery to open your heart.
But once your heart is open...it's open to being shattered.
Lyra and her mom had little in...
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Lyra:
"...I'm both of you guys' new stepsister." I've just finished shouting this out when my morning, if possible, gets infinitely worse. A very familiar, unwelcome voice joins the fray. "Ahhh, Zach, Trent, I see that you've met Stefan's little kid that we heard so very much about." Xavier's voice is like ice cold water thrown onto my very hot and embarrassed face. He throws his cold words out there and they freeze the very blood in my veins. There is no doubt in my mind that Xavier hates me, truly hates me. I don't know why. And I don't know what I've done to incur his disdain and ire, but it's there...and it's not subtle—he's not subtle. If I was embarrassed and flushed before, I'm positively burning up now. Stop it Lyra. You are strong and capable, and you are not a meek mouse like everyone in the ice club said you were—like he said you were. You aren't a doormat...you aren't gullible and...naive—well, okay, maybe you're a little naive, but naive doesn't make you stupid. Suddenly, I realize that no one is speaking, that it's silent as death in the kitchen. I look between Zach, Trent and Xavier and I swallow...hard. Zach and Trent look a little green...well Trent looks green (that's probably the lingering effects of his hangover) and Zach, well, I'm not exactly certain how Zach looks...Xavier, Xavier just looks pissed—nothing new there. "Well," I clear my throat, I guess it's up to me to break the uncomfortable silence. "Good morning Xavier. Yes, I've met your brothers. Actually I kinda met both Trenton and Zach last night. But we didn't have a lot of time to get acquainted." I wait...and wait, and still no one speaks. In fact, now all three of them have these weird expressions on their faces. What the hell? I'm not speaking Swahili. "Uh, yeah..." I look down at my knees. "If you hand me the tape, I can finish this up, Zach. And, seriously, thank you again." I smile at him, hoping to illicit another one of his beautiful smiles. All I get is his slack jawed, glassy eyed expression. Okaaay. I hop over to the counter and grab the medical tape. I have the gauze and bandage affixed and taped up in less than a minute. This is old hat for me, as I had already told him. If they don't snap out of it in a second, I'm going to have to resort to pulling a quarter out of one of their ears. Well, it always worked one me when my mom pulled that trick. "Yesssss...Zach made the coffee this morning, score. Give me a fucking cup, bro." I hear the loud voice and words just before Tallis boulders into the kitchen from the back door, the one that I had used. "Is there a reason we're all standing in the fucking kitchen like assholes?" Tallis asks, I'm fairly certain he hasn't noticed me yet. Uhm, so should I try this talking thing again? Cause it went over real well a second ago—not. "Hi, uh, again, Tallis, right? I say, having turned to face him. His mouth drops open, and I won't lie, it's kinda comical. "Uh...Hi...Lyra. Uh...you, uh, you're in our kitchen." I barely hold back my laughter. God, he's even more adorable now than he was down at the rink. "That would be a yes. Yes, I am in your kitchen." "Why?" The minute he spits that out his face goes bright red and I smile a huge bright smile. Oh my goodness, there is a God. Here, in front of me is someone who may blush as hard as I do. Of course, he looks freaking gorgeous, even blushing. I know I look like a total red tomato faced idiot when I blush. It honestly isn't fair. "Tal, meet Lyra—" Xavier starts. "—Yeah, I ran into her down at the rink earlier." He cuts Xavier off. "...Stefan's kid..." Xavier finishes, the familiar dark, angry glower on his face. "Uh, what?" Tal says, he looks stupefied. "Lyra, is Stefan's kid." "I'm not a kid," I spit out. God, I'm really starting to dislike Xavier. Hell, forget that, I already dislike him. "Yes," Xavier drawls, "I think we can all see that." Ass. "Hi, Tal," I smile at him. "I'm sorry I took off so quickly earlier. Like your brother said, I'm Lyra, uh, your new stepsister." "Stepsister..." he mutters. "Oh, all my kids in one place!" Bethany's voice rings out loud and clear, and the acoustics in the kitchen only seem to magnify her overly cheerful voice. Bethany gives Trent and Xavier big hugs before moving over to Zach to do the same. She starts to walk over to Tal but he puts a hand up to stop her. I notice the hurt in her eyes and almost say something, but stop...it's not my place. "Lyra..." Bethany's smile fades when she gets a good look at me. "What happened?" I frown. What's she talking about? "I'm sorry?" She motions to my legs. "What happened? Are you okay?" "Oh, nothing, nothing happened. I'm fine." She doesn't appear to believe me, but after a minute she speaks. "Well...since we're all here, how about I make everyone some breakfast?" All four of my new stepbrothers start to laugh. "What?" She looks abashed. "You don't think I can make breakfast?" Trent's the first to speak out. "No mom, we know you can't make breakfast." "Hell, mom, when have you ever made breakfast?" Xavier adds. Bethany shrugs. "Well, it's an occasion. And, well, how difficult can it be to make breakfast anyway?" I can't help it, I burst out laughing. The expressions on the guys faces were priceless. They ranged from disbelief to utter horror. After a few minutes, when I'm able to get myself off of the floor where I had basically fallen (from laughing so hard I almost peed in my pants) I hold up my hand and speak. "How bout' I cook breakfast." I look at the clock, it's early still—very early. I had gotten up before the sun rose to head to the rink, so fuck yeah, it's still early. "Seriously, Bethany, you're right, it's an occasion. And well, I haven't cooked for more than one..." I almost choke on a sob but manage to compose myself, "...in awhile. Since I don't see anything out, is it safe to assume that your uh, cook, has the weekends off?" Bethany nods. Her eyes are bright, I think with relief. "Yes, Andrea is a wonder. I don't know what we'd do without her." "Probably starve," Xavier mutters. I shoot him a dirty look before continuing. "Okay, then sit, all of you. I've got this." I won't lie. I'm kinda shocked that they all actually listen to me, and sit. After blinking a few times I look down at my feet and grimace. "Uhm, okay, just give me a second here." I unlace my skates and shuck them off. Sorry babies, that's no way to treat you. But I had things I needed to do...like bond with my uh, new...family. I tried not to shudder or cringe at the thought. After ridding myself of my ice skates I open the fridge, and the freezer and take stock of what I have available to me. "Hmmm savory or sweet..." "Or both," a voice shoots out. "What? She asked?" I jerk around, that came from Trent. I'm happy to see he no longer looks quite as green as before. "Okaaay, so how many of you like sweet for breakfast, and how many of you like savory?" It's pretty much half and half so I decide, in for a penny in for a pound, I may as well do both. I pull out eggs, and milk, cheese, ham and other random ingredients and lay them out. "Oh, Lyra, honey, I feel just awful," Bethany says. "I didn't introduce you. What in the world has come over me?" She giggles, she honest to God, giggles. "I guess I'm just so excited. Lyra, these are my boys, Xavier, Zachariah, Trenton and Tallis. Boys, this is Lyra, your new stepsister. Isn't she just gorgeous?" I haven't stopped moving. I keep bustling around the kitchen, taking out ingredients, and half listening and half absolutely fucking freaking out. I mean, I'm being introduced to my new stepbrothers by my new stepmother. But, I kinda have already met my stepbrothers and have had very un-stepsibling thoughts about them...again, there isn't a "rule book," for this kind of stuff. "It's nice to meet you," I mutter, as I begin to crack eggs into a large bowl. I haven't looked up...I can't look up. I don't want to see their eyes...their faces...their condemnation. "She's beautiful, isn't she boys?" Bethany continues. And I feel my face get warmer. Please...just please stop talking. Oh God, I'll cook, I'll clean, I'll do anything...just PLEASE stop talking. "Lyra, you really don't have to cook for us, honey. I can probably figure something out..." Bethany says. I bite my lip, and try to hold back a smile. If my new stepbrothers reactions were anything to go by, I REALLY did not want Bethany to cook. "Bethany, it's fine. I actually love to cook. I'm used to it, really. In fact, mom used to say that I didn't know how to cook in moderation, that I should have been a cook in the army." My hands go still as I realize what I just said. Suddenly I feel light headed. I brace myself against the counter and mentally count to ten. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10...mom...my mommy...it was just the two of us but we would happily cook traditional Chinese banquet meals for just the two of us. We would spend all day preparing...chopping, separating...cooking for just the two of us...always...just the two of us. Oh God...how can I do this without you, mom? "Lyra, honey?" I jerk back, almost dropping an egg on the counter when I realize that Bethany has come to stand beside me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "I'm fine," I murmur. "I'm sorry." I finish with the eggs and toss them to the side on a paper towel. "Really, I'm fine, Bethany, I don't know what's wrong with me, probably just a little bit tired...jet lag and all." What a crock of shit. I'm a full blown mess, and two seconds from losing it. But no, I have to get my shit together. I have to...I can do this. I kneel down to get to the lowest drawer and open it. My eyes widen when I see the fancy cookware. Wow, I've stepped onto a food network set. I know I'm now probably vibrating with excitement, but gah, I absolutely LOVE fancy cookware. Mom and I used to spend what little free time we had going through recipes and adding our own flare to them. Mom had been a fantastic home cook. Fuck. I'm doing it again. I'm getting sucked into the memories. I can't. I have to have a reprieve or I'm going to sink, drown and die. I swallow, and pull out a few things. How do I separate my now...from then? And if I separate myself...my memories...how much of her will I lose? I quickly put the utensils on the counter and brush away a few stray tears, hoping that they went unnoticed, but smart enough to know they probably were caught immediately. It's so quiet. There are five other people in the kitchen with me, and yet it is silent. It this "normal?" I wouldn't know. It had always just been my mom and I, and when we ate it was loud, and boisterous and...fun. I continue to go through the motions. I chop, separate, and pre-heat pans and the several ovens. This is a home chef's dream come true. This kitchen would make Julia Child's weep. Hell, this is a professional chef's dream. I'm just finished separating egg whites when I hear a voice...a new voice speak out. "Did we hire a weekend cook, Beth? And why wasn't I notified?" I freeze, half the yolk of an egg drops to the counter with a definitive plop. This voice is deep, and authoritative. I'm instantly reminded of my old coach and my body turns to ice. I can't help the shudder that overcomes my body. No. No....Lyra, pull it the fuck together. Oh God. "Lyra...sweetheart, are you okay?" Bethany, that's Bethany...my new stepmother speaking to me. She puts her hand on my arm and I begin to even out my breathing. "Stefan, darling, I'm so happy you're here. Perfect timing too..." Bethany continues, her hand still on my arm. Oh my God, Oh my F*ing God, do I turn around? Should I run? No, no that's a cowards way out. This is my FATHER. I. Can. Do. This. I have to do this. I slowly turn around. The first thing I see, as I look up...two bright violet eyes...eyes so like mine, it's very unnerving. I have a lot of my mom in me, but the one, blaring difference...the one difference that could NEVER be ignored...my eyes. I was often asked if I wore contacts, and few believed me when I told them that my eyes were totally 100% natural. I wouldn't even know what to do with contacts. I had a crap load of Melanin, which chose to show itself in a strange "mutation" in my eye color. My eyes, although technically/scientifically "blue," often, due to light showed up as violet, very, very, very, violet. Elizabeth Taylor had the same condition, although I was often told my eyes were even more violet than hers. Whatever. I knew I was freaky even before my violet eyes were pointed out. Yeah, I was an X-man, without any of the superpowers, F*ing great. "You look like Mira." Those were the first words out of my father's mouth. You look like Mira...Mira, my mom. I felt the bile work its way up my throat and I fought to keep it down. "Except for the color of your eyes. I see you did get something from me. Good, that's good." Uh yeah...I got your freaky fucking purple eyes. Should I say thank you? "Beth, I'm assuming since you're not cooking that..." Bethany interjected, "Lyra..." Stefan continued, "Lyra is taking the role of chef this morning?" His voice was even, and, dare I say it...bored. "Mira always did enjoy cooking...If I remember properly she was an excellent cook, even if the only stuff she made was...that traditional stuff." I stiffened. Traditional stuff? Was he talking about about the Chinese and other Asian foods we prepared? "I don't remember her ever making any breakfast foods, in fact. Oh, perhaps once, it was some odd doughy thing. I think it was filled with...I actually don't know what it was filled with. Frankly I don't know what she was thinking. It was absolutely against our dietary regiment. And I'm pretty certain her coach told her so later." "包子 , bāozi /baoww-dzrr," I murmur. "Excuse me," Stefan says, still perfectly composed. "You're probably talking about steam buns. Mom and I would make them on occasion. We usually filled them with spiced pork, eggplant and chives." "Hmmm...that sounds about right." Stefan frowned, "Again...I don't understand why she would make such a thing for breakfast during training." What was I supposed to do, say? I settled on shrugging my shoulders. "We only made them on occasion, or, well, when we were celebrating. Usually mom and I fixed..." I gestured to the counter top. "An assortment of stuff." I bit my lip. My heart was pounding. This was my father, my "sperm donor." The man that had contributed to my birth. I remember a little about him...bits and pieces, like a DVD that has been scratched and burned. "Uhm, Bethany offered to cook—" Stefan snorts, "—Bethany can't cook." I stiffen and catch the fleeting expression of hurt on Bethany's face before it's hidden behind her perfectly composed mask. "Well I offered," I say, quietly. "If you'd like to sit...I'll finish up. Do you prefer savory or sweet?" "Pardon?" I swallow, hard. "Uhm, do you like sweet for breakfast, or salty?" "Healthy." Is my father's response. "Are you going the way Mira went? Or do you have more sense than that?" Oh my God. Could I run now? I felt my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm and I took a few deep breaths. Do not hyperventilate, Lyra. Keep it together. "I...I...I'm making both. But, uhm, Bethany told me that your uh, sons, are athletes and well, I was always on a strict diet, so I learned to cook healthy, but with flavor. Mom always did appreciate flavor," I finish with a small smile. "Well," Stefan walks over to the French nook where the large "loveseat" is located and sits, stiffly, "Beth would poison us. I cannot imagine it would be worse than what she would try to make." I choose not to speak, instead I busy myself around the kitchen. I hear the beep of the double oven and rush over. "Do you need a hand, Lyra?" I almost drop the baking sheet I'm so startled by the beautiful, husky voice coming from so close to me. I swallow, heavily, and look up, It's Zachariah, staring at me with a small smile on his ridiculously handsome face. "I...uh, well you could set the table, I guess," I try out a tiny smile, "since you probably know where the plates and silverware is..." Zach nods and his smile broadens. "Well, honestly, no one would know you haven't been cooking in this kitchen forever, Lyra. You've managed it like a pro." I shrug my shoulders. "It's not that difficult. I just imagine where I would put all my fancy stuff, uh, if I had fancy stuff. Oh..." And I feel my blush creeping up my face again, "and I like the cooking network. Your uh, kitchen, is set up a lot like a professional kitchen." Zach laughs then. "I'll just have to take your word for it." "Are you going to just stand there with the China, or are you going to make yourself useful," this comes from Stefan, and Zach noticeably stiffens, but heads over their way to set the table. I use a spatula to turn over the last piece of French Toast and quickly platter it. Casting a look over my shoulder I see the table is expertly set, and that there are six very tense individuals sitting ramrod straight staring right at me. I gulp, and try to ignore the looks burning their way into my back. This isn't at all awkward—nope, not at all. I use both hands and easily maneuver two large platters over to the table. "Uhhh, I'll be right back with the rest..." "The rest?" Bethany's voice is full of wonder. "Yeah, I mean, yes, just a second." I hurry back to the kitchen island and pick up a few more plates, bringing them over. "Sooo..." suddenly my tongue feels stuck to the roof of my very dry mouth. I look down the table and bite my lower lip. Stefan is staring at me with an expectant look on his face, expectant, and...something else I can't quite place. Bethany, sitting next to him is smiling widely, showing off those perfect white teeth of hers. Xavier is scowling, again, I've come to equate scowling with Xavier. Next to Xavier, I see Trenton sitting, his jaw clenching and unclenching and hands balled into tight fists, and next to Trenton, Tallis. Tallis is pale, and somber. And for some odd reason I want to reach over to him and wrap him up in a big hug. He looks like he needs one. At the end of the table, Zachariah sits with perfect posture. He is the only one of the six that has a small, welcoming smile on his face. Nothing like Bethany's plastic smile, this smile is simple, tiny, and genuine. I find myself answering his smile with a small one of my own. I take a deep breath, and remind myself that I am my mother's daughter...strong, capable, resilient...I. Can. Do. This. "Okay, soooo the plate in front of Trenton has French Toast on it, I used the Brioche that I found in the pantry...Brioche makes for the best French Toast. I, uh, hope your cook won't mind." I'm encouraged to continue by Bethany's wide smile and Zach's small nod of encouragement. "The plate next to the French Toast has Sous Vide Egg Bites—" "—Wait, like Starbucks?" This comes from Trent, who is now almost bouncing in his seat like a Terrier pup. I giggle a little. It's nice to see that food can get anyone out of a funky mood. "Yes, but better, and..." I cast a quick glance over at Stefan, "...healthier. I use egg whites, and julienne vegetables, and season with a group of seasonings instead of salt. I also don't use the heavy cream or butter." "Well thank God for small mercies," Stefan mutters under his breath, and I choose to ignore him. But by the stiffening of the boys shoulders I can see that they all heard him. "Uh, well, then I made a frittata...you know, it's a large uh, omelette like thing, but made with hash browns and eggs, usually. I use egg whites and, well sweet potatoes. Oh, and I saved a few hard boiled eggs for anyone that likes those, and I can easily do soft boiled or poached if you guys want that too. Since Zachariah already made coffee, I, uh just put on the water for tea, and I saw that there were lemons in the fridge so I cut those us and seeped them in filtered water." I finish with a small shrug and start to fidget when no one speaks, or moves. "I..." Oh God, I'm going to break out into a sweat any second now. "I...I hope that's okay?" Another beep interrupts my stuttering and I jump, "Oh, and that's the bacon and sausage." I scamper over to the oven and get the bacon and sausage out. I drain both and then plate it, bringing it over to the table. "It's lean bacon and I used the turkey sausage I found in the fridge." I wait, expectantly, but they are all still staring at me. I suddenly stop, feeling stupid. "Oh jeez, you're waiting for the blessing, right?" How could I be so dumb? Mom would pop my hand right now if she knew how bad my manners were. I told my new family to go ahead, but I didn't wait to say the blessing with them. "What?" This from Trent. "Huh?" This was from Tallis. "You're fucking kidding me," That was of course from Xavier, charming fellow that he was. "The blessing. I'm sorry, I didn't understand why you weren't plating up, then I realized you had to be waiting for uh, Stefan to say the blessing." "Stefan...say a blessing?" Xavier's eyes got wide right before he burst out laughing. It was an honest to God, belly laugh and it was beautiful. "I'm sorry...but...oh fuck, that's hysterical." "Xavier, watch your language!" Bethany scolds, but Xavier just continues to laugh. "Silence!" Stefan suddenly bellows. I watch as Xavier wipes a few stray tears from his eyes before he gives Stefan a mock salute. Stefan gives Xavier a glacial look before turning to look at me. "Your mother, Mira, raised you Roman Catholic?" He spoke, and his voice was bland, dull...bored. "Well, yes. She's," I gasp, realizing my slip, and try again, "She was Catholic, she believed it to be important to my upbringing...uh, the Church that is, she wanted me to be raised in the Catholic Church...in the faith..." I finish, lamely. "I...see..." Stefan says, but it doesn't look like he "sees" at all. "Well, I consider you raised." "Excuse me?" I frown. "You're 17, correct?" When I nod he continues. "Again, almost an adult. So, your mother got her wish, you were raised in the Catholic faith, now that that's settled we can move forward. I'm sure you've realized that neither my family, nor I, are Catholic, we are not going to say the whatever prayer, blessing thing before we eat." Stefan arches one patrician brow at me. "I'll take two of those hard boiled eggs you mentioned you had set aside, and two slices of turkey sausage, oh and one tablespoon exactly of the sweet potato frittata." For a minute I can do nothing but stand there, stupefied, letting my father's aka sperm donors words roll over me. He had been waiting for me to take his order, oh my God, had they all just been waiting for me to take their orders? That's why they were staring at me? That's why no one had plated up their food? My cheeks burn with humiliation, and I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole, I want to run away and disappear, sadly, I can do neither of those things. Guest, Lyra, you are just a guest here. Hell, you're less than a guest, you're a serving girl. Remember your place. I turn back toward the middle of the kitchen and start to walk toward the sink, where I had left a bowl of hard boiled eggs, when I hear Zach's voice, and it's definitely Zach...I recognize his voice easily now. "Christ, Lyra, sit down, we are all old enough to get our own food...well most of us are, anyway," he growls out the last part. I pick up the bowl of eggs and force a plastic smile onto my face. " It's okay, Zachariah, I...I needed to finish making the toppings and whip for the French Toast anyway." "Zach..." Zach mutters, "I told you, you can call me Zach." I place two hard boiled eggs onto Stefan's plate (having decided it was easier to think of him as Stefan than father or sperm donor) and use a fork to place two pieces of turkey sausage next to the eggs, when I reach for the frittata Stefan's voice cuts through the tense awkward silence once again. "Don't use an actual spoon, the measurement is incorrect, Americans and their stupid naming system, naming silverware after actual measurements, ridiculous. Far drawer to the left of the oven, you'll find a box that has actual measurement spoons, European conversion, of course." I bite down on my lower lip so hard I taste blood as my teeth break through skin. Count Lyra, just count...1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10... "Are you listening?" I come out of my counting by the sound of Stefan's harsh voice. "I'm sorry...what?" Stefan shakes his head and shoots me a disgusted look. "Did you even find the spoons?" The spoons? Oh yes, the measuring spoons. I turn, and open the drawer, easily finding the spoons. I hold them up. "Yes. Uhm, here." "Well?" He says, looking at me like I'm a total idiot, hell, I probably am. I walk over to the table and use the correct spoon (I checked twice to be certain) to scoop out one tablespoon of frittata onto Stefan's plate. After I'm done I look up to find that everyone else has plated their food. I catch Zach's eyes and the expression on his face makes me want to hide away forever. "Lyra, sit," Zach says softly. I shake my head. "Uh, not yet. I haven't quite finished." I rush back to the kitchen and finish slicing the fruit. I take the whipped topping out of the fridge and add the fresh fruit. "I've spoken to the headmaster at Alastair Day Preparatory Academy, and have set up your class schedule. You have a full roster of advanced classes, but two blocks of independent study which will be used to take your college courses." "My...college courses?" I blink, feeling my cheeks heat again when Stefan gives me that look again, the "are you totally stupid," look. "Unless I'm mistaken," Stefan smiles slightly, it's not a warm smile. "And I'm never mistaken, you could have graduated last year, possibly two years ago, if Mira—" he frowns before continuing, "—had been atop of the matter. ADPA is the finest Prep School in Atlanta and Trenton and Tallis attend, so you won't be all alone. But I'll not have you slacking the way they have been doing. I've pulled some strings and have managed to get you into first year college courses...and if they fail to invigorate you, we can reassess and perhaps move you up a year." "Darling...Lyra just arrived, and well, she's put all this work in already, maybe we could speak about this...later?" Bethany says, between bites of her food. The look Stefan gives her, silences her immediately. "This is what I was talking about, Beth. If I don't take care of things...then they do not get done. It's deplorable. Mira should have had her graduate at fifteen, perhaps even fourteen, she could have been through college by now and not adding to my work load, what with figuring out her studies and skating schedule. This is what a responsible adult does, Beth, this is what a responsible parent does." I go ice cold. My head feels light. I'm barely aware that I am washing my hands under scalding water until I feel them gripped tightly in a hard clasp. I look up, and into deep, beautiful eyes. Xavier is staring down at me. His face is unreadable. "Stop it, Lyra. You're hurting yourself." Xavier caresses the red skin of my palm. "That was scalding hot." "Was it?" I murmur. "I didn't realize." "Let me get you something—" He begins to say, but I cut him off. "—It's fine, Xavier, thank you." "You'll be in pain later," he says with a frown. "Pain don't hurt." I say with a perfectly straight face. I'm surprised, and stupidly gladdened to see a lightening of his fierce expression, and a slow smile crawl up his lips. "Did you just quote Road House?" He asks, in a whisper. "Did you just actually recognize it as a quote from Road House?" I say, equally soft. "Hey, Road House is a classic," Xavier says. I giggle then, I can't help it. "You're right, Road House is a classic, and Patrick Swazye is just, well..." I can't help my widening smile, "he's totally yum. I mean come on, Dirty Dancing...no one puts baby in the corner..." "Fraid' I haven't seen that one." My mouth drops open. "You haven't seen Dirty Dancing?" Xavier gives me a look—the look "Why would I have ever had had the need to see Dirty Dancing?" I'm about to make my point, the Dirty Dancing is a necessary movie to life, point when music blares through the room at an almost deafening level... Superstar Where you from, how's it going? I know you Got a clue, what you doing? You can play brand new to All the other chicks out here But I know what you are What you are, baby Look at you Gettin' more than just a re-up Baby you Got all the puppets with their strings up Fakin' like a good one But I call 'em like I see 'em I know what you are What you are, baby Womanizer, woman-womanizer You're a womanizer Oh, womanizer, oh You're a womanizer, baby You, you, you are You, you, you are Womanizer, womanizer Womanizer
My mouth literally drops open. I look around, and realize that everyone else has similar looks of disbelief on their face...except for...Tallis...Tallis? Tallis' face is bright red and he quickly shuts off his cell phone and shoots a murderous look at his twin. "I'm gonna kill you, you motherfucker. Messinwithmyphone..." the last comes out all in a rush, like it's one word. There is a huge grin on Trent's face now. He pops another piece of bacon into his mouth before saying. "Hey, I thought you loved Britney...and, face it bro, the ringtone is very, very appropriate." "Enough!" Stefan wipes the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin and stands up. "You'll take that trash off of your phone immediately, Tallis, and you—" he looks over at Trenton, "—we'll talk later." "Whatever, man..." Trenton rolls his eyes and snags a piece of sausage from the plate. Stefan turns his oh-so-familiar purple orbs onto me, "Now that our breakfast has been thoroughly disrupted, we may as well get some important things sorted. I have a few more matters to go over with you, Lyra. We can discuss these things in my office...where we won't be disturbed by such..." he snorts, "nonsense. Come now. I don't have all day." I look down at the reddened flesh of my palms and pull my hands free from Xavier's. "Coming..." I turn to leave when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up, Xavier is staring at me intently...and for once there isn't a scowl on his beautiful face. "Fuck that, she hasn't even eaten anything." He says. I swallow hard. "It's fine, I actually ate a little as I prepared," I murmur. Stefan snorts, "You see, she's fine, come on. And Xavier, watch your language." Xavier's eyes narrow, "You don't have to listen to him. Come on, sit down and eat something. I don't believe for a minute that you already ate." I shake my head. "I...I...like I said...I ate already. I'm fine. And anyway...even if I were hungry, I don't have much of an appetite anymore." I quickly scurry away, aware of the muffled voices behind me, the voices that are raising in volume. But I'm afraid to wonder what these heated voices mean...or if they have anything to do with me. I have strange feelings...emotions for these boys...these men that I have just met, my stepbrothers no less. They are disturbing feelings, feelings that are unknown and foreign to me. I can't. I can't focus on them, and I can't feel for them. I can't feel for anyone anymore. Feeling is too hard. Feelings leads to pain, real pain, and pain inevitably leads to death...and then I'm left alone—again.
