Page 69 of Organized Chaos
Instead of pointing out that Raven was also seventeen when she moved to Paris, I focused on my first hit of coffee. I was drained from my battle with Brandon and the earlier brush-off from Milo. The last thing I wanted was to argue with one more person I loved. Today, I only wanted to hear comforting words.
Raven ushered me outside and toward the parking lot. A gust of cold air hit my face. Unlike Nice, Paris was a few degrees colder, which meant that in 3... 2... 1... “Mia, put on your jacket, please,” there’d be a comment about my attire.
The predictability made me smile. My jacket dangled through the loop of my arms. I shrugged it on compliantly but paused midway when I spotted the car Raven had led me to. There was nothing remarkable to report other than a red car with four doors. It was the familiar figure leaning against the trunk that had caught my attention.
“Morning!”
Thoughts of Brandon and Milo disappeared entirely. I shrieked from excitement as Reid wrapped an arm around me and lifted me off the ground. The last thing I expected was to see was another Sinclair face in Paris.
Unlike my relationship with Raven and Milo, Reid was less of a parental figure. He was protective but only the appropriate amount for an older brother.
Reid set me down and untangled himself. Much like Raven, he was dressed well—blue jeans, black peacoat with a white shirt underneath—which undoubtedly cost a fortune.
However, it was apparent that the sight of me wasn’t as equally pleasant.
“You look like shit. Was the flight that bad?”
Squinting at my reflection on the car window, I couldn’t help but agree. I didn’t sleep much and chose to forgo my makeup routine in the morning.
Milo, Reid, and Raven always dressed well in public despite the hour or occasion. Keeping with the big city appeal, they were sticklers for presentation. It was one of the reasons why I felt compelled to elevate my own looks. It’s also why I had become efficient at makeup and had come to love it.
But on days I chose to skip the routine—like today—I wondered how my average traits compared.
Men openly ogled my beautiful sister. Girls walking past us did a double-take of my handsome brother as well. When we were younger, their entire group of friends walked around like they were the kings and queens of New York. They had what everyone else desired—good looks, money, popularity.
I was starkly different from the rest of my tribe. Stragglers frowned when they saw the oddball out riding the coattails of their attractive counterparts.
“I didn’t get a lot of sleep,” I lamented.
“Here, I got it.” Reid grabbed the suitcase from Raven and opened the trunk. “That’s what you get for booking a flight at ass-o-clock in the morning. Do you know what time we had to wake up?”
“But I told Ravennotto pick me up,” I argued. “I could have taken a cab.”
“So, you get kidnapped, and Milo blames us for not picking you up? No, thank you.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they were probably in the back of my head. “Who are all these people trying to kidnap me?”
“Just watch that movie. What’s it called?” Reid snapped his fingers, trying to recall the title. “It had Liam Neeson in it.”
I closed my eyes. “Taken,” I replied ruefully.
“Yup. That’s it.”
Instead of festering on the stale topic, I redirected Reid’s attention. “What are you doing in Paris?” Raven and Reid went to Spain for New Year’s Eve with their group of friends. I assumed he’d return to New York right after.
Reid threw the suitcase in the trunk. “I came to help Raven move.”
I leaned back. “Help Raven move?”We’re moving?I glanced at Raven.
When she first moved to Paris, Raven moved around a lot, unable to settle on an apartment, which meant that I was shuffled from place to place.
Every summer, I spent three months in Paris. I also spent three weeks of winter vacation here, along with spring break and every long weekend.
Last year, I had 165 school days. Out of the remaining 200 days when I was off from school, I spent 174 of it in France. I went to school in New York yet spent half my year in Paris.
Didn’t I at least deserve a heads up if my residence for half the year was to change?
“Rave, what’s he talking about?” I tried again, but my inquisition was trumped by the loud, jarring noise of Reid slamming the trunk shut.
