Page 40 of Organized Chaos
“Sure, you do,” he countered.
Usually, I loved bantering with Brandon, but I was annoyed at life tonight. “Why would I care about that?”
“Same reason you watch all those YouTube videos to learn about skincare and makeup. You like beauty.”
Surprised, I tilted my face toward him. Brandon sat five feet away on the recliner chair. With his signature smirk in place, he appeared arrogant about figuring me out.
Most of the time, I was beyond flattered if Brandon took an interest in my life or knew something specific about me. But tonight, he was the last person I wanted to see. Earlier today, I skipped school to see him on live TV. I paid dearly for my little rebellion and was determined never to break Milo’s rules again.
I turned away, pressing my face against the pillow. “You don’t have to entertain me,” I informed sulkily.
Brandon picked up on my grouchy mood and matched it with his own. “I’m not entertaining you,” he snapped. “I’m here because your brother will have my head if I leave.”
Unlike others, Brandon never gave me a pass because of my age. That’s what I loved the most about him.
“I’m also here because you are usually tolerable for a kid. So, stop acting like a brat.”
I clenched my jaw at his choice of word, throat bobbing with more unshed tears. I was still facing the wall when I heard Brandon’s relented sigh, followed by shuffling. The mattress dipped as he sat next to me on the bed.
“Mia, it sucks that you had such a rough day.” This time he spoke in a gentler tone. “But today was harder on Milo.”
I tensed.
“Milo was the one who had to make that difficult decision,” Brandon added. “And he did it because he loves you more than his own mother.”
Presumably, it was challenging for Brandon to paint Milo as the savior. However, the brutal honesty resonated with me. Milo didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, so I had no idea whether the decision was difficult to make.
“You aren’t like other kids, Mia,” Brandon pressed. “You know better than to act this way.”
I closed my eyes again. Why was Brandon the only person to see through my shit?
I wanted to be grown like everyone else. While I understood hidden connotations, picked up on adult lingo, and retained an extensive vocabulary from my reading list (all in my attempt to belong in that exclusive grown-up clique), the jury was out on the most crucial component of all—my age.
A part of me wanted to scream and yell and throw a fit. I couldn’t control it. This could be a classic case of teenage hormones, though I was still a few months shy of thirteen. This sort of behavior could also stem from boredom. I wondered if Milo suspected the same since he constantly distracted me, loading me with so much extra material outside of classes that it made the curriculum at school appear uninspired.
Unfortunately, the ugliest side of me still showed itself today. Afterward, my siblings left to drop Mom off at the airport. Worried I might throw another tantrum, Milo preemptively subdued me by assigning Brandon the role of my glorified babysitter. Growing up, I had a crush on Brandon. Milo didn’t find it amusing when I used to run around betrothing myself to him, but he had hoped for Brandon’s presence to appease me tonight.
Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.
It was humiliating that Brandon had to see me in this capacity. I was this ugly kid with a mouth full of braces, snotty nose, and tangled hair. And he was this beautiful man—so damn tall with dark hair and pale blue eyes.
The physical aside, Brandon wasn’t all perfect. He was slightly self-centered, regularly forgetting crucial facts and details. He never paid attention to others unless they mattered tohim. Twice, he forgot my age and grade in school, which saddened me because I wasn’t important enough for him to remember.
On the flip side, there was more to Brandon than being an egotistical asshole. If you dug deeper, there were good qualities that I regularly witnessed. Brandon was nice to me, especially in moments when I needed kindness. And he gave me shit when I deserved it, making me realize that the current mannerisms weren’t a good look on me.
I wiped my tears away. “I’m embarrassed about the way I acted today,” I mumbled, voice still cracked from my earlier screaming fit.
“Hmm.” I could hear Brandon’s smug smile, my heart doing a flip at the sound it made. “That’s a start.”
“Can we please just drop it?” I slanted my head in his direction, changing the subject. “Do you know any good stories?”
Brandon chuckled. “No, little Bunny. I don’t.”
When I was little, Milo affectionately called me Rabbit because of my overbite. I got braces a year ago. Brandon was the only one to suggest against it. He said my overbite gave me character, and in fact, my adorable overbite deserved an even cuter name. Brandon dubbed me Bunny because it was more endearing than Rabbit. Even before he christened me with that name, I knew he was my first crush—a fact that’s true to the day.
“Aren’t you a little too old for bedtime stories?” he cocked an eyebrow.
“That’s not why I asked. I have to write a short story for a competition Milo signed me up for. I need inspiration.”
