Page 61 of Discord
I tuned him out and glanced at Jaci. Brandon and I were on the living room sofa, playing our favorite game. He’d point at someone and ask me what they were thinking. I had to answer correctly based on my observations.
“And help me God if I see any drugs in this house.”
Jaci’s crisis was obvious. She had been glancing at her phone frequently, standing by the window in a cute dress.
“She’s hoping that the boy she likes will show up,” I mused.
“Yo, Jaci,” Brandon called out. “Are you waiting on Sean?”
She frowned. “How did you know?”
Brandon smiled at me wickedly.
“I don’t want to see any excessive drinking today.” Milo was still going off. “Can’t believe I have to say this to you guys, but don’t be stupid enough to give my twelve-year-old sister a drink.” Milo glanced at me sharply. “Mia! Have you heard a word I said?”
I sighed exasperatedly and faced Milo. “Yes. You plan to give me my first sip of alcoholic beverage tonight.”
The veins on Milo’s forehead popped while Brandon fell in fits of laughter.
Milo tutted away, while Brandon elbowed me. “What about her?”
Ugh! I didn’t want to tell him. She had been blatantly staring at Brandon all afternoon.
If it was a girl, they were generally thinking about Brandon unless they were already in love with Milo or Reid.
If it was a boy, they were thinking about my pretty sister.
All the girls wanted Brandon. All the boys wanted Raven. How long before they’d want each other? The thought depressed me.
There was little comfort in the fact that Brandon never seemed to notice Raven or any girls for that matter. I wondered what it’d be like to get the attention of such a man who never found anyone else interesting. In some ways, I did have his attention, even if it was only to entertain him.
“Choose someone else,” I said a tad bitterly.
Brandon caught my drift, frowned, then nodded his head at a man of around twenty or twenty-one.
He sported a sleeve full of ink and carried a briefcase with an inscription of a tattoo gun. His eyes were red-rimmed, high on drugs with a tattered shirt, the slight shake indicating possible withdrawal symptoms. There was no way Milo invited this man. One of our neighbors brought him along as their plus one, and Milo would likely kick him out within thirty minutes.
“He is advertising his at-home tattoo business, searching for customers who might be interested in making bad decisions after they are drunk.”
Brandon’s eyebrows quirked; his expression intrigued. “Interesting.”
“No,” I scolded. Brandon had been wanting a tattoo, but I read all about the negative impacts of getting a tattoo from unreliable sources. “I know what you’re thinking but let me give you my counter-argument.” I used my fingers to count off. “Hepatitis B, hepatitis C, HIV, tetanus, skin infection, allergic reaction.”
It only piqued his amusement.
“Reid always says that I don’t have any street smarts, but even I wouldn’t get a tattoo from that sketch ball.” I pointed at the shady man just as he looked in my direction. “No offense,” I told the man.
Brandon frowned. “Reid’s wrong. You’re plenty street smart. You might look like a little bunny, but I never let the act fool me. You’re a leopard.”
I crinkled my nose. “Leopard?”
“The stealthiest of the big cats,” he announced.
I opened my mouth, snapped it shut, then opened it again. “How am I stealthy?”
That made him laugh. “How about when you stealthily watch others to learn everything about them? No one notices when a leopard quietly stalks its prey. So, when the savage attack happens, the victims never stood a chance.”
“I’m hardly savage.”
