Page 62 of Honest With You

“I’ll see you down there.”

I’m still flustered by that brief exchange and sudden tension in the room that I miss my brother leaving the room entirely. My best friend however, seems to still be feeling the tension because she’s huffing as she sits at my vanity, primping her auburn hair and dabbing at her lips with her ring finger.

“Van?”

“Yupppp?” Her lips popping out at thep.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

I roll my eyes, crossing the room and sitting in the alcove beside my vanity.

“I didn’t realize there was an echo in my room.” I level her with a look, and she has the audacity to bat her eyelashes innocently. “What’s up with you and my brother?”

She sighs, the sound dragging as she tosses her hair back over her shoulder.

“Ave. You know I love you. You’re my best friend. But your brother?” She rolls her eyes so hard, I’m afraid her eyes will get stuck back there. “I can’t stand him.”

I choke out a laugh. I’ve never heard her talk about someone with such an annoyed tone. Not even Dean caused that much venom in her voice. And we all know he more than deserved it.

“Why?”

Raising an eyebrow, she shoots a look over her shoulder like she’s afraid he’ll materialize back into the doorway.

“Well for one, he’s bossy.” She starts holding out her fingers with each reason, “He talks to us like we’re kids when we’re eighteen! And to top it all off, he’s not even as goodlooking as he thinks he is!”

I scratch at a phantom inch on my nose, not sure how to respond to that. Because well she’s not wrong except for the looks part. My brother is quite handsome.

Though in the handful of times I’ve seen them interact since that night, I know my brother hasn’t been the friendliest so what she’s saying is just her perception of him based on how he’s been standoffish towards her. But I also know my brother and I know he does not mean to be that way. He’s simply overprotective and he hates it when things feel out of his control like that night very much was.

But now I know, I have to talk to him again, because I don’t want Vanessa to ever feel unwelcome around here. I know her situation at home isn’t ideal, with her living with her grandparents now and not having the best relationship with them. She also still feels awkward around the kids at school, regardless of whether they even know what happened between her and Dean. Aside from me, she doesn’t really have anyone she trusts at the moment. I don’t want to take that away from her.

I smile at her the best I can, even though my anxiety is raging.

“I’m sorry about Stephen. I’ll talk to him.”

She flicks her wrist, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll try to be better at keeping my eyerolls to a minimum whenever he opens his stupid mouth.”

“Vanessa!”

She grins and pulls me into a hug. “Happy Birthday, Ava. I’m sorry about Jesse.”

Once again, a weight drops to the pit of my stomach, causing my insides to curl in a fit of nerves. I have not heard from Jesse since Saturday morning when I woke up to a text from him saying he had to go help his cousin in New York with a family emergency. Since then, it’s been absolute radio silence. He hasn’t responded to any of my texts and the three times I called him, it went straight to voicemail.. He didn’t even text or call me today on my actual birthday.

I’m trying not to let it get to me, since we did celebrate together two days ago, but it would have been nice to know if he was okay. Not calling me for two days is so unlike him. Even when he went away for a weekend for his mom’s bday, he still Facetimed, called or texted, even going as far as buying wifi for the plane ride just so we could text during his five hour flight to Hawaii with his family.

I can’t help but feel like there is something else going on. Something he’s not telling me.

But I hold on to the fact that he told me he loved me on Friday. He has done nothing but show me I mattered to him. I’ll most likely see him tomorrow at school, so for now, I should try to enjoy this little party my siblings have thrown for my eighteenth birthday.

“I’m okay. You’re right. I’m just worrying for nothing.”

She nods, squeezing my shoulders in support. I Facetimed her in a blind panic last night, after I let my overthinking spiral me into a state of rampant anxiety. She didn’t even think twice before she called Yaya Ella. They, at some point, apparently exchanged numbers. Yaya Ella sent security to get Van and she spent the night beside me, watching superhero movies while I pretended not to be checking my phone every five minutes.

“That’s my girl. Now let’s go downstairs before your brother starts using his bossy voice and calls us girls again.”

I sputter out a laugh. Vanessa absolutely loathes being called a girl, she thinks it’s a term used to somehow deem our gender weaker. I’ve got a feeling it’s got something to do with the way her grandpa talks down to her.

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