Page 20 of Tell Me When It's Over

I don’t even bother looking at her. Since when does she care where I go? I know the answer to that—she doesn’t. But she knows Mr. Bishop will, which is confirmed based on the gruff noise coming from him. “If she’s staying, she’ll get into a private academy like the others. I’ll even pay.”

She. Not Leighton. Not Lenny, not that Mom has even called me by the name, or even Leigh. Does Harry Bishop actually want to know me or spend his money on me? I’d want to know my child, figure out her likes or dislikes. But unlike him and Mom, I wouldn’t put them in this situation, where dollar amounts are being tossed around in the form of education tuition and uniforms. It’s unsettling.

Mom leans toward me. “Would you like that, Leighton? I’m sure that pushy counselor of yours would be happy to hear you’re finally challenging yourself.”

I swallow, knowing I have no choice in the matter either way. If I did, I’d ask to go back to my old school and life in Phoenix where I can pretend to be happier there a lot easier than I can here. “She would be,” I agree quietly, watching as our soup disappears from in front of us as new food takes its place. “But maybe—”

“It’s settled,” Mom says.

The older man hums. “Well…good.”

Mia claps. “You’ll love it, Leighton. I’ll show you around and tell you everything you need to know. I highly doubt it’s changed since I attended.”

“Eons ago,” Kyler murmurs.

I don’t need to look up to know the sound of flesh being smacked is Mia hitting her brother. He grumbles something under his breath, their father sighs, and I…just remain silent like a good girl does.

Pathetic.

It’s late when Mom disappears into Mr. Bishop’s office with him to talk further about my tuition for school. I’m waiting by the door hoping they’ll be done soon so we can go back to the hotel. It may not have much, but it’s nicer than some of the apartments we’ve lived in and it’s much simpler than here.

Mia finds me huddled by the large double door, with Kyler close behind her heels. They seem to get along well, and I wonder if they’ll get along with me if this becomes as regular as Mom wants it to. “What are you doing out here?”

I’m not sure why I can only stare at her like I don’t know how to talk, but it seems strange that she’s talking to me. I don’t know much about Mia, just that she had a few hit singles that topped the charts when she was younger and became a huge star with a massive following. Now she’s in her early twenties and acts. I think I saw a gossip magazine talk about her possibly getting her own show. Some reality gig. I should ask her what she’s doing, if she’s enjoying whatever it is, but I don’t want to seem nosey or like I’m fishing for information. They don’t know me yet, and if the roles were reversed, I’d probably be suspicious of me until I could be trusted.

It doesn’t help that Mia is strikingly beautiful. The kind that money can’t even buy. Long luscious wavy brown locks, dark eyes

that look almost gray like mine, and the kind of face photographers always want to capture. Full lips, defined cheekbones, small nose. I wonder if she takes after her mom because she doesn’t look much like Harry or Kyler. They’re much darker—hair, eyes, demeaner. Closed off. Intimidating, like one look from them could change your life.

The smile that tilts her lips is soft. “If you’d like, we can show you around the house. I’m not sure how long our parents will be.”

Our parents. It makes a shiver rack down my spine. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever get used to that. Mr. Bishop doesn’t seem like the fatherly type, even though he seems like the kind of guy who would tell Mia yes to anything she asks. I’m not sure that’ll ever be us.

My eyes go to Kyler, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into the pockets of his holey jeans. They look artfully ripped and faded in the perfect spots. One of his ankles is crossed over the other and he watches me with an unreadable expression on his face again. At least he doesn’t look angry. I wouldn’t blame him if he were. His father wasn’t very nice tonight, and it had to do with me. I don’t want him to get yelled at because Mom butted into business that isn’t hers.

Mia touches my hand, startling me, peeling my gaze away from her brother. It’s only then I realize I was blatantly staring at Kyler, whose songs I know every single lyric to. Anna, my best friend from Phoenix, and I know most of the dance moves to the music videos his band dropped. Though, our skills were never as eloquent in comparison to the vigorous training I imagine the guys of Single Division had. “Come on. There’s no sense in you standing there. Plus, it looks like you’ll be around a while. Might as well know where to go when you’re here.”

She has a point, and that’s the only reason I let her guide me away from my little safe space. I’m surprised when Kyler follows silently, keeping a few feet between us like he expects me to bolt toward the exit. I don’t, of course, but the way I feel his eyes tempts me.

The tour lasts over half an hour because there’s a lot of rooms to see. Some Mia just points at because they’re off limits to everyone but their dad—our dad. The thought makes my face twist, like something foreign and bitter on my tongue. I mean, this is a lot to take in for me. I’m a girl who’s used to living in less than stellar conditions where mold, mice, and creepy men are common occurrences. Here, there isn’t a speck of dirt, insects, or anybody creepy—only powerful, authoritative, and a bit scary in terms of the eldest Bishop.

Their life is daunting. I’ve read stories. Watched celebrity gossip shows that talk about the hottest dating updates and scandals that sometimes feature my two tour guides. I feel like I should tell them I don’t believe the things I’ve seen, or at least give a disclaimer to being a fan, otherwise I’d feel dirty. Like I’m keeping some not-so-well-kept secret.

I’m still quiet as a mouse as I follow them along, deciding my silence is smarter than speaking up.

Their house is intimidating too. There are pieces of décor that I’m afraid to even look at much less touch, and furniture that is so clean I don’t want to sit on it. When we end up in the den downstairs, Kyler drops over the back of the couch with one leg propped on the back and the other stretched out over the brown leather cushions. I’d bet anything it’s the real kind, not the fake.

Hesitantly, I sit on the matching love seat while Mia leaves the room for something to drink. Heart pounding when Kyler looks over at me, my mouth goes dry. “I’m not always an asshole, you know.”

My eyes widen.

Half his lips quirk up. “Maybe that’s a lie. I try not to be an asshole. Harry makes it hard.”

I find my voice. “Harry? You don’t call him Dad?”

Snorting, he repositions himself so he’s sitting up and facing me, an ankle resting over his opposite knee. “No. Don’t plan to either.” His tone challenges me to ask him why, but I don’t. He sees that and lets it go. “Mia is right, though. My beef with him shouldn’t involve you. I don’t want you to think I’m a total prick.”

“I don’t.” My voice is hoarse, making me flush and stare down at my lap. “I don’t blame you for being upset with me and my mom. I’m going to ask her if we can go back home.”

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