Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

10 | Hit the SOS (Part One)

SÁBADO
10:04 PM

Reid Harlow

I could hear the spontaneous laughter coming from downstairs. While Fridays were reserved for the entire family to get together and have a fulfilling dinner—Saturdays were reserved for games, activities and sports outings.

I decline this week's Friday dinner, deciding to be holed in my room. It was better than going downstairs and having to greet everyone and entertaining another enlightening conversation with Claudia. Plus, there was also Nini too, and I didn't feel too keen on having to face her again.

I thought I was going to go to bed hungry—as I usually do at other homes when I refuse to meet for dinner—but that night, Presley came upstairs with a plate bearing all of that night's meal.

Now, it's Saturday. Instead of attending a family fun-day downstairs and play a round of charades, I'm sitting in my room, alone, and it's not too bad.

I had a book in my lap—about some classic philosophy—and I had a couple pieces of paper by my side. I don't draw, but in the middle of a boring page, I take the paper and begin to fold it.

I wasn't some origami genius where I could make a fucking dragon out of one notebook paper—but I had enough technique to make a flower. It wasn't the best flower in the world, and it was a little crinkled on the edges, but it was enough to assume the looks of one.

Out of boredom, I made three of them.

I heard footsteps ascending up the stairs and I quickly shove all the paper flowers to the side, covering them with my pillow. At that moment, I heard the door creak open but it wasn't from my bedroom—and instead, I hear a familiar voice offering a lullaby goodbye to Ariah.

"'Night, Ariah." I hear Presley said, before the little girl replies with sleepiness etched in her voice. The door creaks close, and I thought that was the end of it before my own bedroom door slams open.

"Jesus Christ," I swore, placing a hand on my racing heart. Presley enters through the door, looking sweaty as hell, as if he's been running around the house. "Do you fucking have to make a dramatic entrance every time?"

"Why weren't you at family game day?" Presley prompts, coming closer to me as he studies the book in my lap and hopefully, not the origami flowers hiding underneath my obvious pillow.

"I didn't want to," I said, knowing lying about it wasn't going to get me anywhere. I'm a terrible liar anyway. "It's not my family to begin with."

Presley releases a heavy sigh without saying anything, and he looks away from me with rippling agitation on his features.

Good, I thought. Get mad at me. Swear at me, do some fucking terrible thing or say something so hurtful that I could give myself a solid reason why I shouldn't join this family. Why I don't belong here.

Fucking do it.

Yet, Presley remains silent. He stares off to the wall, his eyes falling on the trophy shelves hanging on his side of the room. His eyes taking everything in.

"Nini said you have to do the grocery shopping next week," Presley announces, his voice impassive. For a second, he almost sounds like me. He turns to meet my gaze. "Everyone in the family has to contribute. Nini and Sebastian will give you money."

"They're really going to trust the fucking new kid to carry their money?"

"Is there any reason not to?" Presley cocks a brow at me, his words hitting with more directiveness. I'm just waiting for him to crack up and say something hurtful to me. "You're going to take Nico with you. He likes going grocery shopping."