COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 25

THE PHONE-CALL

Nick gives me a lopsided smile, one of those satisfied smirks that lights up his entire face.
"I knew the cupcakes would do the trick!" he exclaims triumphantly.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself; I only accepted because I want to settle this situation once and for all," I retort, slamming the bedroom door firmly.
Whether I’m furious or calm, nothing ever seems to change; this vicious cycle between us is the only constant. And since Mr. "One-second-I-feel-nothing-and-the-next-you’re-everything" has decided to keep beating around the bush, it’s up to me to break the rhythm.
​He doesn't stop smiling or staring at me. Has he fallen into some kind of trance?
"Yes, alright! Credit to the cupcakes too, now drop it! You’re making me nervous with that evil smile. Do I need to remind you of the total fool you just made me look like in front of my brother? I’m even angrier with you now, so look ahead and stop staring."
I quicken my pace to escape his gaze, but in the blink of an eye, he’s already beside me. I still delude myself into thinking I can be faster than him—how naive.
​"I wasn't the one who invited Paul into the room, and anyway, consider it a little payback for last night!"
I freeze suddenly in the hallway, my heart racing with the feeling of an impending disaster. Nick notices my confusion and bursts out laughing, a clear laugh that nonetheless promises nothing good.
"Me, you, me carrying you to your room..."
"What? I don’t follow where you’re going with this."
"You, blathering about how your parents let me come up and accusing them of not even having a doubt that we might be having se—"
​And there they are. The flashbacks resurface like lead weights.
"No, no, stop. That’s enough. I think I owe you an apology but, as you can see, I didn't remember a single thing."
Never again alcohol, never again alcohol, never again alcohol. I’ll repeat it like a mantra until it’s imprinted on my brain.
"Don’t worry, it was actually fun in the end," he says, nonchalantly fixing his copper-colored hair.
Sure, I bet. Apparently, I had fun too—too bad I wasn't remotely in my right mind.
​We head down the stairs wrapped in silence.
"Wait for me in the living room; I’m going to tell my parents I won’t be here for lunch."
I know Mom is out for her usual meetings, while Dad will surely be holed up in his study, immersed in his new manuscript. I reach the door to their room, but his voice, charged with an unusual threat, forces me to stop. Through the crack in the door, I see he’s on the phone, and he sounds furious. I move closer, holding my breath.
​"It’s the last time I’m telling you: stay away from me, or you’ll have to deal with me. I told you not to call me anymore; it wasn't a request. So, as soon as she arrives, you have to disappear. Don't you dare get even a millimeter closer or I swear..."
"Dad?" I step into the room, hoping my presence will calm him down.
He spins around abruptly. A vein in his neck is pulsing violently and his eyes are wide. He’s beside himself.
"Yes, sweetheart, I’ll be right with you," he says, forcing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He turns back to his anonymous caller. "It’s none of your business who it is! You heard me, don’t call again!" he hisses before abruptly ending the call.
​"Is everything okay?" I ask him, placing a hand on his cheek. He covers it with his own, trying to regain control.
"Y-yes, it’s just... I was on the phone with a bastard trying to steal my agent right from under my nose. He’s been trying for months, but it’s nothing serious."
"It must be stressful."
"Believe me, you have no idea. Anyway, have you recovered? Did you want to tell me something?"
"It’ll all work out. I just wanted to tell you I’m not eating here; I’m going to Central Park with Nick for a picnic."
"Oh, I see, alright..." he says, giving me a wink.
He and Paul are identical: the habit of winking must be in the DNA. But he’s completely misunderstood the situation.
"As usual, you don’t understand a thing. Anyway, sorry for what I said last night."
"No problem, you were dead drunk; it was obvious from a mile away."
I burst out laughing at his still-shocked expression. "Gosh, was I that bad?"
"Bad enough. But you know the rules: no boys in the room during the night!"
Ah, there it is. I thought it was strange he let it slide.
"Unless you let him in through the window; I can't check that..."
"Okaaaay, I’m going, bye!" I run off, feeling my cheeks go up in flames.
​I return to the living room and find myself in the middle of a heated dispute between Paul and Nick. The topic? Video games, obviously.
"Nick, you’re so thick-headed! How can you say God of War is better than Monster Hunter?!"
"No, you’re the thick-headed one! In God of War, you’re a god protecting his son; in Monster Hunter, what do you do? Kill random monsters?!"
Are they serious?
"It’s not like that! Your game sucks."
"Sucks so much that it was Game of the Year."
"Shut up, or do I need to remind you what I saw this morning? Things a ten-year-old shouldn't see... who knows what Mom and Dad would say..."
I can’t believe it: my brother is blackmailing him.
"Um, Emma?!" Nick calls me, a hint of genuine terror in his voice.
​I intervene to save him from the clutches of the little devil.
"Paul, leave him alone. You both know a ton about this, call it a draw and no more arguing," I say, using my most authoritative tone.
"Alright, you’re right. I like you, Nick, and I’ve known you forever, but I’m still keeping an eye on you."
"Perfect, little Rocky! Now we have to go," I say, dragging Nick toward the exit.
​"That kid gets more lethal every day!" he comments once we’re outside the gate.
"Hey, that’s my brother!"
"You know I adore him; I’d play for hours and hours with him. He’s my champion."
Even if they’re always bickering, I know how close they are, and seeing them like that has always made me happy.
"You would do anything just to..."
"No, I can't believe it!" Nick exclaims, his voice turning icy. I follow his gaze and my blood freezes.
"There’s the blonde I was looking for!"
A tall, blonde guy comes toward me. The face is familiar—too familiar.
What a nightmare.
"Jack?"