First Choice (Sam Wilkinson/Nash Grier)

Chapter 39

It was his eyes. His eyes had tricked me, but now that I took a closer look, they weren't the same as Nash's. They were almost as blue as his though, almost.

They were paler, less lively in comparison. They were missing that boyish, happy hue to them, the one that was specific to Nash's eyes. He had his brown hair up in a neat quiff, missing the signature streak of blonde I had been hoping to see. He was almost the spitting image of Nash, probably this younger brother I hadn't know existed until today. He wasn't as tall, maybe half a foot shorter than Nash but still much taller than me, though he was obviously much younger. He stared at me curiously.

"You're here for Nash? He's in a bad mood so what do you want?" He clipped shortly, leaning against the doorframe. The nice manners and polite way in which Nash carried himself, almost like a southern gentleman, obviously didn't run in the family. "I, um, I need to talk to him." I spoke nervously. I had no idea why I was intimidated by this child but I was, and he grinned down at me from his elevated position standing in the door way while I stood on the front porch.

"Your name?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"J-Jasmine." I mumbled. His eyes widened dramatically, "Ah, you're Jasmine? I didn't realize you were," He paused, coughing awkwardly, "You can come in. He's upstairs." He backed into the house, pulling the door with him and sticking his hand out towards the stairway.

He didn't need to continue for me to know what he was going to say. Under the assumption that Nash had probably mentioned me before, he had probably jumped to the conclusion that I was white. After all, when was the last time you saw a white boy like a black girl? I scoffed, slightly offended by the way he stared at me, like I was some alien.

"It's the, uh, it's the last door on your right." He called after me. I mumbled a thank you as I walked down the hall, taking a moment to gaze at the pictures aligning the walls. One in particular caught my attention. It was a picture of three brown haired boys with bright smiles. I spotted Nash almost immediately, chuckling at his two missing front teeth and his wide grin.

The boy to his right must have been his younger brother, the rude one, I noted. I hadn't even asked his name so Mini Nash with an attitude problem would have to suffice. The other boy, he looked older than Nash and Mini, and he didn't have the same blue color to his irises. Maybe an older brother, but Nash hadn't mentioned an older brother, just a younger brother and sister. Perhaps a cousin?

I continued to the door Mini had told me was Nash's, pausing and lightly tapping it with my knuckles.

"I told you that I don't want to fucking play X-box right now so go the fuck away!" He screamed from inside the room, and seconds later the door was ripped open by an angry Nash.

"Jasmine? I'm really sorry about that, I thought you were Hayes," Hayes, that was his name, "What are you doing here?" He asked, looking down at me with raised eyebrows and a sad expression.

"I-I needed to talk to you after you, um..." I trailed off, looking around his room. I don't know what I'd expected his room to look like, but this wasn't it. It was a little messy, clothes and crumbled scraps of paper littering the floor. I blushed when he hurriedly swiped a pair of boxers off the floor and throwing them into his dark closet, running over and shoving a pile of clothes near the door into it before shutting it behind him and leaning back against it.

There was a huge king sized bed, made up neatly with a light blue comforter. The walls were vacant of any of the stereotypical teenage boy poster of bands, cars, and half naked models. He only had one political poster, a picture of a gun with a bullet going into the barrel rather than out of it. It was so much more sophisticated than I thought it would be. A bunch of books littered the floor on the other side of his bed, I realized as I walked over to the stereo that was mounted on the opposite wall.