Secrets Until Someday

Chapter 11

 Sydney's POV

 I step into the Dawson's house and my senses are on overdrive. 

Layla greets me at the door, we head to the game room to put my bags and set up our sleeping arrangements for the night. 

Since it's only the two of us we can actually share the huge L-shaped couch they have down there which is way better than the floor. Just as we get each side of the couch situated the way we want Mrs. Dawson calls from the top of the stairs that the pizza has arrived and we make our way up to join her in the kitchen. I'm still unsure if Brooks is here or not but so far he hasn't made an appearance so that's a good sign.

My body is unsteady as I make my way into the kitchen but the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies comforts my nerves. We take our seats at the kitchen table and as I look around a little more relief fills me, no Brooks to be found. Thank God.

 Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, Layla and I begin digging into the pizza as her parents ask us about how school is going when all of a sudden the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and tingles cover my skin.

"There you are!" Mrs. Dawson says happily as Brooks grabs his plate and joins us at the table.

This. Cannot. Be. Happening.

There's an open chair directly across the table from where I'm seated and of course, that's the spot he chooses.

I slowly look up from my plate into his hazel eyes and take a hard swallow of the bite in my mouth. No one else at the table seems to notice but the tension I feel is overwhelming.

 He stares back at me as the tug of war we are playing with our eyes is interrupted by Layla asking me to pass her a napkin. I oblige and rejoin the small talk with the Dawson family fighting every urge and instinct I have telling me to excuse myself from the table and run. 

I survive dinner and Layla and I begin washing up the dishes. We eventually make our way back downstairs with a stack of cookies while Brooks and his father ventured into the living room to turn on a college football game.

"Hey, you okay? You seemed pretty quiet at dinner?" Layla asks me as we place ourselves on the L-shape.

"Missing my loud and obnoxious mouth are we?" I smirk.

"That's exactly it!," she laughs, "there wasn't any sarcasm in any of your responses to my parent's one hundred questions about what your future plans are, I was really starting to worry." She shoves a cookie in her mouth, "Your face didn't even turn green when my mom poured you a glass of milk."

"I really must have had you worried then." I too shove a cookie in my mouth and welcome the sugar rush.

Mrs. Dawson always serves milk with dinner, it's the weirdest thing I have ever heard of or witnessed but I choke it down every time. I don't need to give any more reasons for Mr. and Mrs. Dawson to tell Layla how "wild" her friends are or how she should spend more time with so and so on the volleyball team. 

"I promise to never be quiet and polite at your dinner table again," I roll my eyes. "Maybe I just want your parents to like me." and I stick my tongue out at her. 

She looks at me knowingly, " Good luck with that, I'm their own daughter and they barely like me, because well, I'm not Brooks." she puffs her chest and makes a pouty face in an attempt to mimic her brother. I can't help but blow cookie crumbs out of my mouth with laughter. She does have a point, they do worship the ground that boy walks on. My thoughts betray me by bringing up memories of the days that I also used to worship him and all the sugar turns sour in my stomach.