Page 21 of Siren's Heart

"Hmm,” she hums, like a small dragonfly. “Would you like me to answer?" A mischievous twinkle pops up in her eyes, and I freeze. My eyes jump from my phone to her, and my mood instantly lifts.

"Actually, yes. That would be hilarious."

She reaches out her hand and wiggles her fingers until the smooth black surface of my phone touches her skin. With a grin on her face, she waits until it buzzes again.

"This is Radio One, and we are reporting live from the studio." Her voice changed from giggly to firm within a second, and I stare at her in awe. She actually sounds like a radio speaker. "And we are in with the next caller wanting to share their most embarrassing high school story. What is your name?"

She waits for a few seconds, her eyes dancing over my face, then her hand sinks down, and the adorable giggle is back. "She hung up."

I burst into laughter and accept the phone back when she hands it to me; just as it starts to ring again. This time, I answer.

"What’s up, sis?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Luca?"

"Nothing is wrong with me. Why?"

"Oh no, we're not doing that. Who just answered your phone? Tell me, right now, or I'll tell Mom and Dad." I roll my eyes. She's acting like telling our parents is supposed to be a bad thing. I mean, yeah, they'd probably get their hopes up for an autumn wedding and a pregnancy announcement for Christmas. And by ‘they,’ I mean Mom. But that's about the extent of what would happen.

"I can tell you, but I can also do you one better," I reply, raising one questioning eyebrow at Millie. She tilts her head, confused lines between her eyebrows that smoothen once she realizes what I'm doing.

Holding my phone away from my face, I turn on the camera and wait for Summer to turn hers on, too, biting down a grin.

I laugh when she comes into sight. Even though it’s late afternoon where she is, she’s either still, or again, in her pajamas, a tub of ice cream in her lap, and I am ninety percent sure she hasn’t left her bed today. She's currently on break from college and went home to spend time with our parents. I just know she's being pampered by them. Now that they face their empty nest, I think they sometimes feel lonely.

"Not a word," she mumbles, pointing at the screen with her spoon while a drop of melted ice cream drops off it, and I roll my eyes. Then I turn the phone around, and Millie waves at my screen.

"WHAT?" Oh, shit, that’s loud. Quickly, I turn down the volume, then turn the phone back around to see her shocked expression. And to take a screenshot of it–I’m her brother, after all.

"You're kind of interrupting something here, Summer. Was there anything urgent?" Her eyes are so wide I’m afraid they’re about to pop out of their sockets, and then she slowly shakes her head. "Wonderful. I'll call you later tonight, alright?" Another nod. "Great. Byeee." I can't help but singsong the dismissal, knowing full well she's bursting with curiosity, probably getting her ass out of bed to tell my parents anyways.

Ah, the joys of being a big brother.

"You look alike," Millie points out as I set my phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and put it back into my pocket. I’m not letting anyone else interrupt this date, not even Asher or Van. "Is she older or younger?"

"Six years younger than me," I tell her, and she blows a low whistle.

"Six years? That's quite a bit."

The waiter returns with our drinks and asks if we would like to proceed with the menu.

"Let's give Kayla and Asher fifteen more minutes, and then we'll start," I propose, and Millie nods along in agreement. The waiter types something into his tablet and disappears again.

"Where were we? Right, six years. Yeah, it’s a kind of a lot. I remember being an only child, so I really didn’t appreciate having to share my parents’ attention in the beginning. But now we get along great." The corners of my mouth pull upwards. "Well, most of the time. I wouldn't lend her my car, but I'd donate a kidney if that makes sense."

"It does," she assures me, leaning her chin on her propped-up hand. "It's basically what Kayla and my relationship is like. Are you close with the rest of your family?"

Her other hand lays on the table, fiddling with the hem of her napkin, and my eyes are transfixed on it as I go on.

"Yeah. I talk to my parents almost every day. A house in their neighborhood was my first big purchase, and I usually spend my time off there." Finally, I tear my eyes away from her pearly white fingernails and back to her face. "They've been really supportive of me becoming an actor. Of course, all the travels they get to do, thanks to it, might play into that."

"I love that." She grins, and I just can't help myself. I grab my glass and take a sip, resting my hand right next to it after I set it down again. Close enough to hers that I can feel a magnetic pull again, but I don’t give in. At least not yet. "I meet mine at least once a month for family dinner, and we call each other a lot. It took them forever to accept that I want to spoil them, but finally, they let me send them on all the travels they’ve been wanting to do. They still insist on flying Economy class, though, because they don’t want me to ‘waste my money’ on first class." A deep sigh leaves her pouty lips, and she rolls her eyes.

"I'm sure they'll grow out of it," I assure her. From the corner of my eyes, I can see our fingers, mere centimeters away from each other.

Just do it, Luca. Take her hand. What's so hard about that? I gulp.

"Mine took a while,” I say, trying to distract myself. “I paid their mortgage off behind their backs and gifted them tickets for a trip to France that I told them were non-refundable." That makes her giggle, and it might just become my favorite sound.

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