Page 53 of Falling With a Spin

“Just a little bit more.” I attempt to give him my puppy dog eyes.

“Nope.” He says, looking at me as he takes off his shirt and my cheeks flush red as I look away.

“Fine,” I grumble, and his only response is a chuckle.

After changing, we walk down the hallway to the kitchen. The light gray walls have pictures from every stage of my sibling's life and, surprisingly, a few of mine. I stop, taking a few of them in. It’s been years since I’ve been here, but the photos that hang on the wall make it seem like I never left. A few from dance recitals that I know he never went to, my high school graduation, and others that range from my birthdays up to my senior year of high school. An ache goes through my chest, and I look away from them. These pictures have been here, and I never knew about it.

“You danced?” Hunter's question tears me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, I stopped a while ago.” It feels longer than just two years ago. “That’s a story for another time.” I want to tell him everything that happened that night but I have a feeling he’ll just attempt to fix me when there’s no fixing needed.

He takes my hand, and we continue towards the kitchen. It’s an open floor with stainless steel appliances and white cupboards with an island in the middle. A girl with long brown hair sits at the table, focusing on the book in front of her. I slowly walk up to Aurora and cover my hands over her eyes.

“Guess who?” I try to mask my voice in hopes of hiding who I really am from her.

“Oh, it must be my favorite older sister,” Aurora snickers. A laugh leaves my lips as she peels my hands from her eyes, turning to look at me.

“I’m your only older sister,” I roll my eyes, which earns a chuckle from her.

She stands to hug me, and I realize that my fifteen-year-old sister, who is the spitting image of me, except where she has the bright blue eyes from our father, I have my mother's hazel eyes, is almost taller than me. When you haven’t come home in almost three years, you realize how much you miss. Tears start to prickle my eyes, and I suck them back, promising myself not to cry anymore.

I pull back, and I see her look over my shoulder at Hunter, who is leaning against the wall. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt and dark-washed jeans with his signature smile as he keeps his eyes on me.

Aurora leans down to whisper in my ear, “Em, who is that standing over there?”

I tilt my head to the side, signaling Hunter to come closer. “Aurora, this is Hunter. He is my-” I look towards him, a small smirk on his face.

“I'm her friend. But we are working on something… a little more permanent than that.” He holds out his hand towards her.

Her head snaps to mine, and both of our eyes widen at his words. We haven’t talked about what we are to each other and what we make of this. I don’t mind putting a label on us if that's what he means, but I'm also scared. It means giving my trust to someone when, in the past, it’s been abused and taken for granted.

A sound comes from behind Aurora; looking up, I see my stepmom set down plates on the kitchen table. It’s a long white oak table with ten chairs, two at the end and four on either side. Behind the table are floor-to-ceiling windows that give you a view of the backyard and the desert mountains.

“Oh, this is Leslie, my stepmom. You saw her this morning when she came to retrieve Caden.” I smile at her as she finishes setting the table.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am” Hunter dips his head, giving her a charming smile.

“Hey, do you know where Dad and Lakeland are?” I ask, turning towards my sister.

“They’re in the garage together. I will let them know you are up and that breakfast is ready.” Aurora answers, walking off to the door that leads to the garage.

My eyes drift from my sister as I take in the rest of the house. The living room has a white carpet and a built-in entertainment center with a TV in the middle. Along the side of the entertainment center are more framed pictures of either my dad and Leslie or each of us. Two black leather couches, two recliner chairs, and a white coffee table that had magazines and the TV remote take up the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows from the kitchen continue to the living room and stop at the door that leads to the backyard.

I turn back towards the kitchen to see Leslie putting some bacon on the stove. “Do you need any help with anything?” I ask her.

“Yeah, if you can set the silverware on the table, that would be awesome. Hunter, can you bring that plate of French toast to the table.” She instructs.

I grab the silverware and napkins from the drawer next to the sink, walk over to the table, and set them down next to the plates.

“So, how long have the two of you been together?” Leslie asks as she flips the bacon.

I drop one of the forks onto the plate and look straight at Hunter. “We actually aren’t dating. We are just friends. Right?” I manage to get out but my voice squeaks at the end.

“Hmmm, okay. Where did you meet?”

“In class,” I say.

“She ran into me at school,” Hunter says.

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