Your Ego Made You This Way

 

Chapter Twelve

 

I’d been living with the brothers for two weeks when I finally snapped. Homesickness overwhelmed me.

Which is just so weird. I’ve never been the type to get homesick. That’s not to say I don’t love my parents, I totally do, but I never did see the point in missing something that would always be yours.

I know, right? I was so naive.

I was playing video games with Brody—and beating him, may I add—when homesickness hit me. Like a brick in the face. A big old brick.

We were in the middle of a game when nostalgia weighed down on me and I froze, unfamiliar to the feeling. Brody was staring intently at the large TV screen, jumping up to pump his fist in the air when he beat me. And yes, twenty-one year old guys still play video games.

At least, Brody does.

However, when said twenty one year old video-gamer realizes that the only reason he one is because I stopped playing he sighs and eagerly says, “Rematch, rematch!”

I shake my head, scrunching up my nose. “So I can beat you again?” I ask lightheartedly. Brody narrows his eyes at me.

“What’s wrong?” He asks me, noticing the look in my eyes. Honestly, I don’t know what the look in my eyes is. But it must be something unusual for me, if my feelings are any indication.

“Not that I don’t like staying with you and your brothers,” I say, “but I really want to go home.”

Brody looks uncomfortable. I’ve learned a lot about Brody in the couple of weeks I’ve known him. He’s an outgoing guy with a fondness for girls and parties. And, of course, competitive videogames. There are—constantly—girls calling Brody, chatting to him in high voices about the most nonsensical things. I even heard one girl asking him what color bra she should buy at Victoria’s Secret.

I mean, really. Is that all there is to talk about these days? Bras? What happened to talking about feelings, and opinions and all that jazz?

Apparently, the world’s meaning has been overpowered by the wonders of lace and silk.

Not that Brody’s always that shallow. He’s not. But, at the end of the day, he is a great-looking guy who loves the company of a great-looking girl. Ying and Yang.

I’m really being too hard on him. Brody’s great. He lives his life having fun constantly, never stopping to think about consequences or problems. He just…lives. And for that, I am so envious.

What would it be like to go through life without a care in the world? I mean it, too. He is completely care-free.

I often wonder if there is anything he gives a damn about, but I know it’s not fair to question that. There is no doubt in my mind that he would do anything for his brothers.

Because basically, Brody is a fun-loving, easy going, laid back guy (do you need more adjectives?) who cares about nothing else other than his brothers and having a good time.

Now, I think you can understand why girls love him.

But Brody, I’ve learned, is a fighter not a lover. He’d rather solve something through physical activities (i.e. fighting) than through talking about them. So, naturally, getting him to talk about anything emotional is a challenge. Save for that one day when he told me about his father, Brody won’t open up.

Which is weird for me, because people usually open up around me. I don’t know what it is, but people say it’s my charming smile.

Thank you mom and dad for the braces in middle school. Sure, I looked like a railroad track, but hey, look at me now.

So, now, as Brody stares at a spot on the brown-painted walls, looking uncomfortable, it’s not hard to imagine what’s running through his head.

“You know you can’t leave here, Skye.” Brody tells me, his eyes drifting back to mine. I can’t help it, I’m pouting. I’m on freaking house arrest. “It’s not safe.” He adds quietly.

For Brody to speak quietly means a) it’s something emotional for him or b) he doesn’t want to say it. Since I doubt my safety is an emotional topic for him, I’m going to guess he doesn’t want to tell me what I have been hearing for the last two weeks. It’s not safe. Will it ever be safe? Will I ever be able to leave the house without worrying that someone is going to kidnap me and kill me?

“Fine,” I say, still pouting. Brody sighs and walks out of the room. I stare after his retreating form, sitting with my arms crossed over my chest, before getting up and walking out into the hallway in search of Chase.

I walk into the kitchen to find it empty. It’s pretty clean too, now that they have a girl to help them clean up. Which, let me add, is just so sexist. I mean, no guy has ever died from picking up a dish towel.

Unless he was allergic to dish soap, and just died from picking up a dish rag. Kind of a sad thought.

But none of these guys are allergic to dish soap, so there are no excuses.

I leave the kitchen, still in search for Chase. I wander to his room and hear music playing. I knock on the door, but receive no answer. The music’s too loud. I could always kick down his door. I’ve always wanted to do a B and E. Does it count as a B and E if you know the person?

Before I can seriously consider kicking down Chase’s door, it’s pulled open and Chase is standing, hair tousled, in front of me. His short hair seems to have grown a little bit. Now it’s the perfect length for someone to run their hands through.

Not that I’m thinking about running my hands through his hair.

“Hey, Skye.” Chase says, and smiles at me. My heart does a loud thump in my chest and I feel like pressing my hand to it, as if to push it back down. Chase stares at me, his teeth dazzling, his eyes twinkling, and I can’t help but thinking—again—how beautiful of a guy he is. Like geez. Not fair much? “What’s up?” He asks me.

The feeling of homesickness washes over me again. “Would you be up for going somewhere?” I ask sweetly.

Chase rolls his eyes at my sweet-voice, seeing through me. He has that ability.

“Not another party.” He says, his eyes narrowed at me. I nod.

“Just my parent’s house.” I say, as if it’s no big deal. A big part of me is screaming tell him how much you miss them, Skye. Another part of me is screaming he doesn’t have a dad, don’t you dare complain about how much you miss yours.

Chase looks at me, studying me quietly. I sigh impatiently. “Yes, no?” I ask.

“When do you want to go?” He asks me. I shrug.

“Whenever you’re not busy.” I tell him, and Chase smirks.

“I’m always busy.” He tells me, and then I throw my hands up.

“Fine, Chase. I’ll go ask Logan.” Logan is by far the nicest guy I’ve ever met. He’s always talking to me about random things—mostly cool facts or stats—and he is clearly a brainiac. He’s not as out going as Brody, or as intriguing as Chase, but he is for sure the sweetest person I know. Ever since my first night, waking up in the hospital wing of the house, Logan has always been there for me. He’s the smallest, so he’s been lending me clothes. He helped me pick out a room that was close enough all three of theirs so that Chase wouldn’t worry about something happening to me at night (I am, after all his assignment).

We even talked about how long I would be staying here—could be anywhere from a couple months to a couple years, according to Logan. So he told me that we could paint my room whatever color I wanted, and he brought me paint swatches from the store for me to pick from.

Quickly, Logan is becoming a good friend to me. Which is exactly what I need right now. “I’ll take you,” Chase says, snapping me back to the present. “We can go now, if you’re ready.” He looks at me, and I look up at him, blinking.

“Yeah, I’m ready, Freddy” I tell him, in a sing-song voice. He glares at me before closing his door, leaving the music on, and stepping into the hall.

“Are you excited to see your parents?” Chase asks me once we get outside, walking towards his car. I guess he’s decided to not be grumpy anymore. Which, you know, is a nice change. I debate on how to answer his question, but, like I always do with Chase, I end up answering honestly.

“A lot, actually. I’m the only child, so I’m sure it’s been weird for them too.” I add, thinking about our house and how empty it would feel with two people. “Where exactly do they think I’ve been for the last two weeks?” I ask Chase. He unlocks his car and slides into the driver’s seat.

“With me.” He says, and starts his car, offering no other explanation. I gape at him.

“So, what? You show up at my doorstep one day and tell my parents, ‘yeah, I’m just going to kidnap Skye for a little while, and she’ll be living in a house with three older guys, but that’s cool with you, right?’ And then you controlled their minds into thinking that, yeah, that’d be okay so they were all ‘Yeah, absolutely Chase. We trust you completely, though you are a stranger. Nevertheless, kidnap our daughter. And guard her from the evil Company too, that’s good. Very considerate of you. Take care.’” I stop roll-playing when I realize Chase is holding in laughter. I roll my eyes. “Oh, let it out. Don’t hold back laughter, it’s unhealthy. You’ll grow warts on your face or something equally unattractive.” Chase starts laughing at me. I ignore him. “I wonder what you’d look like with warts on your face.” I ponder. Chase is still laughing when he answers.

“Probably still pretty sexy.” He says. I roll my eyes again.

“You are not sexy.” I say, unconvincingly. Then I give up. “Why are you so arrogant?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s my ex-girlfriends faults. They made me this way.” He explains, mocking me.

“I think your ego made you this way.” I say to him, folding my legs under me on the leather seat. He glances over at me and I see his eyes lighten with humor.

“What’s it like in your world?” He asks me suddenly. I’m startled by his question. I was pretty sure I lived on planet earth, not Jupiter.

“Well, you know. It’s nice enough—“I say, answering his question sarcastically. He grins at me, his eyes twinkling, and then interrupts before I can go on.

“I meant that you live in a world away from everyone else’s. Anyone ever tell you that?” I shake my head. “You’re a dreamer.” He says and I frown. “It’s not a bad thing, Skye. Don’t get defensive. I just mean that whatever is going on around you, you always manage to find some good. Like you live in a dream world. Nobody can touch you.”

I think about that, and find my eyes on Chase unconsciously. Only do I realize that I’m staring at him when he breaks his gaze on the road and looks at me, grinning.

“Thinking about how not sexy I am?” He asks me. I look away from him, blushing a little.

“If you know you’re so hot, why can’t you at least be modest about it?” I ask him, frustrated. He shrugs.

“For the same reason that you are modest about it.” He answers me. I can’t help but scrunching my nose up, as I tend to do when I’m confused.

I mean, really. What is he on about now?

“What are you talking about?” I ask him. My eyes flicker to his face quickly. I don’t want to stare at him again, and let his ego get any more inflated.

“Oh, never mind Skye.” He says, annoyed by something. Oh, hell. What did I do now?

I go to say something but he slams his car into park, sending me jerking forward in my seat, and therefore making the words I had wanted to say to Chase into some that were, well, colorful. Chase dutifully ignores me and gets out of his car, as do I, pulling off my seatbelt and slamming his precious car door. What is his problem?

“You­—“I say angrily to Chase, my temper getting the best of me. My exclamation is cut off though when I hear,

“Skye! Honey, you’re home!” That would be my mother. When she is not in a bathrobe, cup of coffee in hand, waiting up for me because I’m way past my curfew, she’s actually quite…lively and well, a bit loud. My dad, naturally, is the same way. I live in a house with two overly happy parents, yet I most likely have an anger problem. It just doesn’t seem right.

“I am, at that.” I say to my mom, walking up the front steps of our porch and hugging her. I pull away and hug my dad as well, forgetting who drove me here—for the time being, of course, because really, how can any female forget a guy that looks like Chase for more than thirty seconds? Apparently, no female can. Because as soon as I pull away from my mother she’s brightly regarding Chase, who stands near his sleek Porsche with a sort of half-smile on his face.

“Chase!” She exclaims, too my surprise, and walks (saunters, really) down the porch steps to where Chase is standing. He grins at my mother, working his charm (no doubt) so that she has no choice but to adore him.

I doubt he even has to use his Talent with members of the opposite sex. Where as most guys—if they were able to control minds—would totally be all up in girls’ heads, Chase probably never is. Most likely all he has to do is smile at them and they’re head over feet for him.

Now I ask you, is this fair? Should one person really be that, well, gorgeous?

The answer is no, my friends. No he should not.

I look at my dad, confused by my mother’s excitement over Chase’s appearance. I almost groan in frustration when I see my dad smiling at Chase too, leaving my side to walk down the steps towards him.

In fact, I think I do groan, because all three heads—which were minutes before close together, discussing how green the grass is and how beautiful Chase’s car is (gag me)—swivel towards me.

I offer a weak smile and they turn away, seemingly satisfied. I stand there in shock. Really?

How can my own parents love some guy more than they love their own daughter? It’s. Just. So. Unjust.

I turn away from them and walk into my house, slamming the front door behind me. I wander in through the front room—its surreal, really, I haven’t been here in a while—and into the kitchen.

Where I get the biggest shock of my life. And not just a shock but a bombshell. A bombshell just dropped, like, right on my head.

I hear my big tote bag his the floor with a thud and then I hear myself trying to speak—to scream?—but nothing comes out.

It’s just me and them. Alone. In my kitchen.

And where are my parents? Outside. With Chase.

Conversing.

And you think your life is ironic. Well, just you wait.

Reviews

[Anya]

oh my... O.o .... i've missed reading this!!