𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

F I V E

[graham eaton]

I walk into the café, a wide smile on my face. I spot a table in the back corner seated for five—four girls and one boy. They all sit at their laptops, hovering over their books and notepads. One girl takes her notes in professional looking handwriting on an iPad. One girl with light brown hair and grey-blue eyes lifts her head and spots me.

"Ah, look who it is." She says. "I thought I heard your piece of shit bike outside."

She stands and hugs me.

"What are you doing here—oh, wait, let me guess. Dad wanted you to stop by, didn't he? Or was it mom this time who wanted you to make sure my burn wasn't infected or peeling?" She says.

I raise an eyebrow and look down at her sternly.

"Livia, we're just trying to look out for you. You know that." I say.

She rolls her eyes and groans out in frustration.

"Oh my god, Graham, that's such a load of shit! You're all worried because of what happened to Dad before him and Mom got married. You're all worried that I won't follow my regimen as strictly as I'm supposed to and in a few months, I'll have to get a skin graft to cover the wound. I know it. I can hear Mom and Dad talking. I'm not some idiot who doesn't know how to take care of myself. I've been studying my ass off to become the Valedictorian and keep my place there. Even when the doctors told me to take a break, I did every last bit of my class work so I stayed Valedictorian. I want to shoot for the stars, just like mom has told me, but I can't do that if you're all holding me down with a leash." She says.

I exhale and look down at her.

"You done?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips.

She nods.

"I just want you all to stop being so pessimistic. Please, just look at the brighter side of things." She begs.

I scoff and tilt my head.

"You think we're being pessimistic? We're super optimistic right now. Liv, you got crushed by a fallen flaming beam in the library of a school that spontaneously caught fire because two idiot seniors decided they wanted a smoke in the bathroom during class. It was by some sheer chance that the one burst pipe line in that entire school just happened to be in the bathroom just on the other side of the wall from you. It was by some whim of fate that we heard your screams over the flames and that we got to you just before you passed out from smoke inhalation. You have a burn on your abdomen the size of a football. You're lucky. That burn could've covered your body head to toe. We're being as optimistic as we can. So please, cut us some slack too. Mom wanted me to stop by and see if you needed anything, not just to check on your burns." I say. "I'll see you at Dinner tonight at Joe's. Five O'Clock. Don't be late."

I spin around to leave but she stops me.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a lot with the fire and school work. Can you forgive me?" She asks.

I nod and hug her again.

"Of course I can. My job is to give you shit and forgive you when you give me shit." I say. "Remember, Five. Don't be late!"

I walk to the door, but stop and spin around. I return to the table.

"And Chuck, was it?" I ask, looking at the boy sitting beside my sister, the one who described her during the fire. "Keep your lips off of my sister, got it, or the Chief of Police might just hunt you down."

I turn around and walk to my bike, tying the bag and painting to the back seat. I turn my head and spot Jolene sitting at her desk, working again on the painting. I smile and pull my helmet on. I start the engine and she turns her head and spots me. I wave again and she waves back. I turn and drive up the hill, parking out front of the fire department. I walk inside with the signed reports in hand.

"Chief Williams, a fully signed and dated report by Chief of Police, Tobias Eaton, and Dr. Beatrice Eaton of Chicago Hospital." I say, handing it to him.

He smiles and takes the report from me.

"You really went to your parents?" He asks.

I nod, shrugging.

"My Dad's the Chief of Police and my Mother has been a Doctor for almost twenty years. They were the easiest to contact." I say.

He nods and walks to his office.

"What took you so long? I, for a fact, know that you and Olivia did not talk for a solid forty-five minutes." He says.

I shrug and walk to my locker, grabbing my waterbottle.

"I might have met someone." I say. "And, she's an artist. The most talented, beautiful, funny artist I've ever met."

Atticus shrugs, leaning back against the doorway.

"And, with your luck, she's probably taken too." He says.

I roll my eyes and take a sip of water and a bite of my granola bar.

"If she is, the man who holds her heart is the luckiest man alive." I say.

I open the bag that's tucked away in my locker and smile at Atticus.

"You wanna see how great of an artist she is?" I ask.

He nods and approaches me. I pull the bag open and retrieve the canvas. Majestic sailboats float on cascading blue tides with foamy white-heads in the water. I hand it to Atticus and watch his expressions.

"She painted this?" He asks.

I nod.

"Told you she's talented." I say, watching him.

He brushes his hand gently over the canvas, examining the delicate painting.

"She's got a nice eye," He says. "Really. This is quite exquisite."

I nod and smile. My watch beeps and I look down at it. 4:45. Quitting time. I walk to the showers in the back and clean off before getting dressed again.

"Ready for dinner?" I ask Atticus.

He nods and we walk out to my bike.