Intertwined

All families have a tradition. Sometimes it goes all the way back to their ancestors in the eighteenth century. Some families only started one in the twentieth century. I don’t know when my family tradition started. But one thing is for sure: This tradition doesn’t make a single bit of sense. But one cannot choose the family he or she will belong to. And you cannot choose which family traditions you will end up honoring in your life. My family has close ties. While some people can sit together at parties not even knowing they are related, I had to know each and every one of my cousins, aunts, and uncles. We have family reunions about twice a year. In between those reunions, my family engages in gossip about each other. They have the chance to confirm that gossip during the reunions. They especially like the women in our family who are approaching their thirties. It’s the finish line for them. According to my family tradition, we have a curse. If one of our women is not married before she turns thirty-one, she is doomed to be single for life. I thought this was complete bull. But I’ve got Aunt Rosalie, who sits at family reunions alone. She had her heart broken when she was thirty. The guy left her at the altar. Ten years later, she’s still single with no hopes of ever marching down the aisle. We also have Aunt Mildy. Full of love, this one. So full of love, she passed from lover to lover and none of them ever wanted to put a ring on her finger. Now, rumor has it, she’s the mistress of a rich Sultan, who comes to see her once every two months. She lives a luxurious life, though. But she’s still a mistress in the eyes of her family. There was also Theresa; she was one of my older cousins. Pretty and successful. But it was her choice to be single. She’s a lesbian and has no desire to be married to a man. So I guess that was not really the workings of a curse. One of our older aunts got married at thirty-two, giving the women in our family hope that the curse was just the lore our ancestors passed down to ensure the elders would always have grandchildren to dote on. But a week after she got married, her husband died. And she has remained a widow since then. There are many stories of aunts and cousins who disregarded the tradition. I don’t know whether it was just coincidence, but somehow they are in the family’s Hall of Shame—the unwritten list of women in our family who had tragedy or bad luck fall upon them because they disregarded the family’s deadline of thirty-one. And so ever since I was young, I have been a hopeless romantic. I read all sorts of fairy tales and love stories, hoping someday one of those love stories would come true for me. That my knight in shining armor would come to rescue me, sweep me off my feet, and rush me to the altar. I intend to marry at the age of thirty, at least one year earlier so I’m sure I’m saved. Apart from the fear of living my life alone, childless, or husband-less, I refuse to be the subject of my family’s conversation and gossip at the reunion table. I hate it whenever the table is all abuzz and then suddenly falls silent when Aunt Rosalie or Aunt Mildy join in, and every single person at the table picks a different topic to talk about off the top of their heads. By hook or by crook, I vowed: I would be married before the deadline! It would be a plus if my prince were handsome and capable of giving me the life I deserved. But I guess compared to the chitchat and the impending curse that would be bestowed upon me, I would much rather marry an ogre. I have years to complete my quest. Two decades to plan my “forever” is a lot of time. Chapter One The Other Member of the Family My parents are going to kill me! My best friend Cindy asked me to come with her to some kid’s party. I didn’t want to go, but she sort of begged me. I told my parents I was just going to hang out with some kids from school. Since I’ve always been a good, responsible kid, they said yes the first time I asked. “But be home before eleven, okay?” my mom reminded me. “I’m sure I won’t be long,” I said to her. And I had every intention of keeping that promise. Little did I know that Cindy had plans of her own. When we got there, she drank almost every glass of alcohol that was shoved into her hands. She danced to her heart’s desire and flirted with the older guys. I was babysitting her. We were only fifteen and I was pretty certain we shouldn’t be even be partying at all; least of all, drinking. I was aching to leave. But I couldn’t abandon my best friend in a sea full of sharks looking for fresh meat. I kept glancing at the clock. It was past midnight and Cindy had no intention of going home just yet. “My parents are going to kill me!” I said to her. “And you’ve already had too much to drink.” “Chill out, Miss Prudy!” she said to me with a giggle. “We’ll go home soon. Give me a few more minutes.” Yeah, right! Her minutes became hours. When the clock struck three, I mustered all my courage to call Cindy’s brother. Prologue Thirty minutes later, he was dropping me off in front of my house. “Thanks for looking out for her,” Josh said. “You’re a good friend.” I nodded and then went to my front porch. Nervously, I opened the door. The whole house was quiet. Everybody was sleeping. I had never broken my parents’ rules before. That’s why they trusted me so much. My older brother was a responsible kid, too. Now I really hated Cindy for putting me through this. I removed my shoes and tiptoed to the stairs. I didn’t want to wake anybody up. I could deal with my parents the next morning. But I didn’t want to be caught red-handed. Moreover, I didn’t want them to think that Cindy wasn’t a good influence on me. Our house had four bedrooms. My brother’s room was the first one when you reached the top of the stairs, opposite the guest bedroom. Mine was across my parents’ further down the hall. The corridor was dark so I walked carefully toward my room. Just then, I heard a clicking of locks and the twisting of a doorknob. It took me a moment to realize that it was coming from my parents’ bedroom. Shit! I’m doomed for sure! It could be my mom, I thought, on her way to get milk or water from the kitchen. I froze, thinking of reasons why I would be standing in the middle of the corridor at three in the morning when I promised her I would be home by eleven. All of a sudden, I felt the door to my right open. It was the guestroom. Then I felt something wrap around my waist forcefully. Something clasped against my mouth before I could manage a scream. Then I was leaning against a hard wall and something hard and heavy was pressing against me. I took deep breaths and found the courage to open my eyes. I saw a tall, slender figure leaning against me. I could make out the contours of his devilishly handsome face. Instantly, I glared at him. He saw this even though the room was dark. I heard him chuckle softly. There was a knock on the door. “Travis?” my mom asked on the other side of the door. “Are you okay?” He had winked at me before he replied. “Yes. Everything is fine.” “Is Brianne home already?” she asked. Travis raised a brow and smiled at me mischievously. I reached up for his hand and struggled to remove it from my mouth but damn! He was strong. His eyes were dancing, and I knew he could say whatever he wanted to my mother and I would be helpless to stop him. If I spoke up, my mother would ask what I was doing in his room at three in the morning. “Yes,” he said. “I think she got in before midnight,” he lied. I glared at him. I didn’t lie to my parents and he knew that. “Oh, good. I didn’t hear her come in,” my mother said. “Okay. Goodnight, Travis.” “Goodnight.” Travis’s eyes never left mine. I heard my mother’s footsteps on the stairs. When we were sure she was out of earshot, I pushed Travis away from me. “I don’t lie to my mom!” I hissed at him. He chuckled humorlessly. “You didn’t,” he said. “What are you? Deaf? I was the one who lied. So don’t worry. You’re still going to heaven.” He put his hands together as if he were praying. “I hate you!” I hissed. I pushed him again, and this time, he caught my hands in his. He raised a brow at me. “Funny you say that, because you can’t seem to stop touching me!” I struggled to pull my hands away from his, but he held them tighter. “Let go, Travis!” We heard footsteps coming from the stairs, indicating that my mother was going back to her room. I stopped struggling. I kept my mouth shut and held my breath. Travis pulled me closer to him. Suddenly, I felt his hot breath against my neck. I froze. What the f**k is he doing? I felt him run the tip of his nose against the base of my neck, sending shivers down my spine and making my knees go weak. Good thing he was holding my hands—otherwise, I think I would have fallen to the floor. But I realized I knew exactly what Travis was doing. He was daring me to make a sound. He was daring me to fight him, curse at him, and hit him. But he knew I wouldn’t dare. Damn! I bit my lip to keep from making a noise. My mother was walking in the corridor. Then I heard her stop by my bedroom and turn the knob. I felt panic grip me. She would see that I was not yet in my room! She would know that Travis lied. But after a few seconds, she was still turning the knob. My door was locked, even though I didn’t remember locking it. I felt Travis’s smile as he buried his face in my hair. He must have done it. He must have locked my room. And thank God he did! Finally, my mother went inside her room. As soon as I heard her door close, I pushed Travis away from me. He was laughing. “Damn you!” I cursed at him. “You should have felt how shaken you were!” he said. I got hold of my messenger bag and started hitting him with it. He shielded his face against it, but he still didn’t stop laughing. “For somebody who hates me so much, you sure tremble a lot against my touch, sweetheart,” he said. I gave him one last hit and then I headed toward his door. “Bad idea,” he said. I turned to him. “What, you moron?” “I don’t know what’s worse. You coming home at three in the morning, or you going out of my bedroom at four. I would rethink going out that door if I were you.” “For somebody who hates me so much, you sure find ways to trap me in your bedroom!” “I don’t hate you, Brianne.” I could see the gleam in his devilish eyes. Then he took a step closer to me. “In fact, I think you’re hot…and…” I glared at him and then I took my bag and hit him with it again. He didn’t bother to shield himself. “I hate you!” I said to him. “I know,” he said, laughing hard. Then he managed to take hold of my hands to stop me from hitting him. He stared down at my still-angry face. “You smell good, by the way.” I gave him one hard push. “And you stink!” “Liar!” he chuckled. He was right, actually. Travis smelled like fresh soap and aftershave. He showered at least three times a day and he never went to bed without taking one. I would know because it seemed like I’d been sharing a bathroom with him for the last four years. He pointed to the bathroom on the right side of his room. “I locked your bedroom door. So the bathroom is the only way you can go in. Unless…you’d rather sleep here with me.” He winked. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Then I went through the bathroom. “You owe me, princess!” he called out, but I shut the door without a backward glance. That, ladies and gentlemen, was Travis James Cross! Like a son to my parents. Best friend to my brother. And Dennis the Menace to me! *** I hated Travis. I really did. I cursed the day four years earlier when my brother had brought him home like some stray dog. In fact, a stray dog would have been a hundred times better. My brother had a good heart—truly an angel in disguise. How he could be best friends with Travis was beyond my understanding. Travis was really…the devil incarnate! When we were younger, his pranks included pulling my hair, stealing my lunch, and reading my diary. But this year, I decided to take the high road and just ignore him, tune him out. I guess he found more creative ways of making my life hell. Lately, he’d been putting me into uncomfortable situations. He flirted with me, not because he thought I was attractive, but because he knew I blushed the brightest shade of red whenever he touched me or threw a s****l joke my way. After he and my brother had become best buds, he stayed in the guest bedroom at least three times a week for four years. And my parents just adored him—they felt the family was incomplete when Travis was not around. One time, when I wanted to insult him and irritate him, I asked, “Why do you stay here all the time? Don’t you have a house of your own?” He smirked. “Of course, I do. Depends on which state or country you are referring to,” he said in an arrogant tone. My brother slightly shook his head and shot me a look that almost said, Don’t go down that lane. You won’t win. I didn’t get what my brother meant at the time. But one day, I saw a limo park in our driveway. I stared at it in awe. Then the driver got out and opened the passenger door. Travis stepped out of it. The driver spoke in Spanish. The only words I understood from him were Master Travis. Master Travis? What is happening to the world? Travis saw me watching him and his driver with my mouth wide open. His eyes gleamed, and I didn’t miss the cocky look he pasted on his face as he approached me. Then he leaned forward and whispered to my ear. “Try not to look too amazed, sweetheart. It’s called a limousine. Limo for short.” Then he pushed my chin up to close my mouth. With a low chuckle, he went inside my house. When Travis turned sixteen, I never saw the limo again. But a sleek red Porsche, or a white Bentley, or a yellow Corvette, or an orange Maserati would always be parked in front of my house, indicating his presence. Okay, so Travis was not just rich. He was super rich! But I wondered why he spent more time in my house than he did in his many, many estates? And why did he torture me a lot? Since Travis told my mother I came home at eleven, I had to wake up early the next day to make sure I showed up for breakfast; although in truth, I’d only had about three hours of sleep. “How was the party?” Tom, my brother, asked me. “Okay, I guess,” I replied curtly. “Who brought you home?” my mother asked. “Ah…Cindy’s brother.” That was not a lie. Immediately, I felt Travis’s eyes watching me carefully, and I fought the urge to stick my tongue out at him. We sat and ate breakfast. “Jesus, what happened to your arms, Brianne?” Tom asked, reaching across the table to examine my wrists. I looked at them and found some blue and purple spots on both my arms and wrists. Instantly, I remembered how Travis and I played tug of war with my arms early this morning. I forgot that I bruised very easily and my skin complexion was just too white—any mark would be noticed almost immediately. “Did somebody hurt you at the party?” my father asked, alarmed. I pulled my arms away from Tom and hid them under the table. “No,” I said. Then my eyes shot up to Travis. “Not at the party.” Travis had a hard expression on his face, but I didn’t know whether he was scared or sorry. Except when he was playing a trick on me, Travis was so good at hiding his emotions. Did he feel at all sorry that he had bruised me? “Then where did you get those?” Tom asked. I shrugged. “I don’t know. I bruise easily, Tom. Somebody must have pulled me and caused this. I don’t really remember. No big deal.” “Brianne, you know you can always tell me. Whoever leaves a mark on you, Travis and I…we’ll beat him up!” My eyes darted to Travis, who actually bit his lip with Tom’s statement. I smiled contentedly at Travis’s guilt and discomfort. “Thanks, Tom. I’ll hold on to your word. It’s good to know you’re ready to beat up anybody who hurts me.” Then I looked at Travis meaningfully. “Of course, I will. Nobody could hurt my little sister and get away with it.” I smiled widely at Tom, but it was more for Travis’s benefit. My father finished his breakfast. Then he kissed me and my mother goodbye. “Where is he going?” I asked my mother. “Golf.” I finished my breakfast and then kissed my mom before running back to my room. Before I could reach my bedroom, I felt somebody tug at my shoulder. I spun around and found Travis hot on my heels. “What do you want now?” I asked. He didn’t reply. Instead, he reached down for my hands and examined my wrists. True enough, he saw faint bruises from the grip he had on me the night before. I pulled my wrists away. “I bruise easily.” “I can tell,” he said. Then he looked into my eyes. “I would never hurt you physically, Brianne. I’m…sorry.” He sounded like he was in pain while he was saying that. I laughed. I decided to enjoy this. “What?” I asked. “I’m sorry,” he said a little louder. “I can’t hear you.” “I’m. Sorry.” “Still can’t hear you,” I pressed on. He raised a brow at me. “I’m so sorry for bruising your arm, sweetheart.” Then he added, “Do you still hurt? Come, show me your arms again. I would like to kiss them to make the pain go away,” he said in a puppy-like tone. I glared at him. “What am I, three?” And before I shut the bedroom door, I heard Travis’s low chuckle behind me. *** My parents were always busy with their work. But at least once a week we sat and had long dinners together. I cooked my famous meatloaf, which they all enjoyed. Even Travis was into it, though he didn’t want to compliment me. But the contented look on his face and his second servings were enough to tell me how much he loved my cooking. One night, I ate alone because both my parents were out of town. Tom was probably hanging out with Travis or on a date. Yes, there were days like that when we didn’t even see each other at all. Just as I was about to finish up my dessert, Tom walked in, followed by his devil of a best friend. “You ate alone?” Tom asked. “Yup.” “You should have called me,” he said. “We could have picked you up and gone out.” “And eat with him?” I asked, pointing at Travis. “No, thanks! I’d rather eat alone.” “Of course! I’m sure you find my body more appetizing than food—you wouldn’t be able to eat at all,” Travis murmured, and I glared at him. “Cut it out, you two,” Tom said to both of us. Then he turned to me. “Next time, okay? Call me. I would come home no matter where I was or what I was doing. I don’t want you to be alone.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so thankful that in spite of my parents’ oblivion to their kids and their family, I had the best brother in the world. And I knew I would never be alone. I leaned forward and hugged him. “I love you, Tom,” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head. “I love you too, princess.” Behind us, I saw Travis’s mouth curve into a half-smile. I couldn’t believe that he looked sort of touched at the sight of our familial bond. But then again, maybe the reason why he was close to Tom was because only an angel like Tom could stand a devil like him. Early the next Friday, Tom barged into my room. “Pack your bags!” he said, waking me up. “We’re running away?” I asked lazily. “What did our parents do?” “They’re sending you back to the orphanage where they got you,” Travis said with a smirk when he appeared by the door of my room. “Is that the same orphanage where your parents got you? How come I didn’t see you there before?” I shot back. “Because I got adopted the first day I was there. Some of us are just too adorable. You…you stayed there for at least five years,” Travis said seriously. How could he insult and joke so convincingly? “And what happened then? Your parents realized it was a mistake to adopt you?” I asked, raising a brow at him. His face hardened for a second, and then he disguised the hurt look on his face with another smirk. “No. I decided I didn’t want them.” His voice told me that I hit a nerve…something he was sensitive about. Come to think of it, why did Travis practically live with us? “It must be a relief for them, huh,” I said relentlessly. He raised a brow at me. “Probably. But that’s bad news for you, isn’t it? Because every day I can’t stand to be with my folks only means I’ll be here to annoy you. And I prefer that any day.” Then he winked at me and walked away, not giving me a chance to retaliate. I turned to my brother, who wasted no time getting my luggage bag out of my cabinet and filling it with my clothes. “Tom, remind me again why you picked that punk to be your friend?” I stood up from my bed and shoved Tom away from my cabinet. He had already packed half of my things for me. “Travis is a good guy, Brianne. Actually, more than good. He’s great,” Tom said. “He has a troubled home. We’re the only family he knows now. So please, it would mean a lot to me if you tried being nice to him.” I rolled my eyes. “And you don’t ask him to be nice to me?” “No,” Tom shook his head. “That’s unfair!” Tom sighed. “I have my reasons, little sister,” he said. “I love you both. But no. I have seen the charming side of that guy, and you’re the last girl I want to see it.” “I’m sure I cannot see what doesn’t exist.” Tom chuckled. “It does exist. You would be surprised how soft-hearted Travis can be. But let’s give it to him. He prefers to be a tough nut, and I think he’ll need that more to survive in his world.” “Where are we going, anyway?” I asked. “To Travis’s grandparents’ beach house.” “Why?” “Because he invited us and we’re all going.” “Mom and Dad, too?” Tom nodded and I smiled. It had been a while since we all went away together on a family weekend. Suddenly, I got excited. After ten minutes, my bag was ready and Tom was carrying it down the stairs. “It was really nice of you to invite us, son. We could use some time to unwind from work,” my father was saying to Travis. Son? “You’re welcome anytime,” Travis said. Then I saw my mother pull Travis into a hug and gave him a kiss on the forehead. I groaned. It’s like he was a real son to them already. Travis stared up and saw me glaring from the top of the stairs. He smiled devilishly and winked at me. Oh, this is going to be a long weekend! I realized I’d left my phone in my room. I went back for it while everybody loaded our bags into the cars. When I came out, I saw my parents in our car with Tom behind the wheel. “Brianne, your brother will drive for us. My leg has been cramping since this morning,” my dad said. “It’s okay,” I muttered and started to get in. “No, sweetheart. You ride with Travis,” my mom said. “What?!” I asked in horror, and I knew Tom was biting his lip to keep from laughing. Traitor! “It’s not nice to make him drive alone, considering he’s inviting us over, after all,” my mother said. “But Travis is a menace!” I complained. “I hate him!” “Stop that, young lady! He’s like a son to us and a brother to you. He’s a part of this family, too,” my mother scolded me, and I knew she was disappointed to know my real feelings toward Travis. “Come on, sis.” Tom smiled at me encouragingly. “You promised me you’d be nice to him.” “You forced me to promise,” I muttered. I sighed and headed toward Travis’s car. As soon as he saw me approaching, he got out of his car and opened the passenger door for me, smiling like an angel, knowing that my whole family was watching. “It’s an hour and a half drive, sweetheart,” he whispered so only I could hear. “Two, if I drive especially slow.” I glared at him. “You’re not scary when you glare. In fact, I think it’s cute. It makes me want to you annoy you even more.” I groaned and stepped inside his beautiful car. If I wasn’t too busy hating him or the fact that I would be riding with him, I would have stopped to admire his sleek two-seater Porsche. The minute he stepped inside the car, I caught a whiff of his cologne. It smelled fresh and masculine. Not overwhelming, but rather refreshing. The inside of his car was almost dust-free. The interior was made of sleek leather and smelled like ocean air freshener. What a surprise! Travis was a neat freak, not just about his hygiene, but also about his belongings. I leaned forward to turn up the volume of the music, letting him know that I was in no mood to talk to him during the ride. But just as soon as the music got louder, it immediately became quiet in the car. I raised a brow at Travis. He didn’t look at me. Then he pushed some button on his steering wheel and the volume turned up a little louder, and then a little lower. He looked at me and smiled. “Sorry, cherie. I control everything in the car. Including the radio,” he said smugly. I sat back in my seat, quietly fuming. I was trying my best not to let Travis get to me. He played rock ballad songs. Surprisingly, we had the same taste in music. I decided to hum to the tunes of the songs I knew. Just as I was lightening up, Travis switched to the next song midway. Then, just before the chorus played, he switched to the next song again. He did this for the next five minutes, not finishing an entire song, just switching from one to the next after a few seconds of playing each. I knew he was trying to annoy me. I glared at him again. “You’re very immature, you know!” He grinned at me. “News flash! I’m sixteen, you know.” “I hate you!” I groaned. He chuckled. “I know. And I love it.” I sat back in my seat and turned to look out the window again, trying to tune Travis out. He was quiet beside me. Thank God he decided to stop being an ass. He settled for a U2 song that I really loved. And soon, I was drifting off to sleep. I felt a gentle tap on my cheek. When I opened my eyes, I saw Tom peering down at me. “Wake up, princess.” He grinned at me. We had stopped. I turned to my left, but Travis was no longer sitting in the driver’s seat. “Are we here?” “Yep,” Tom said. “Come on! I wanna surf!” I sat up straight in my seat and realized I was warm. A jacket was draped over me and the seat was reclined so I could lie back and sleep more comfortably. I looked at the jacket I was wrapped in and knew it wasn’t one of Tom’s. There was embroidery on the back. TJCross. I knew the scent all over me was familiar. But wait—did Travis do this while I was sleeping? How? And more importantly, why? I put his jacket aside and stepped out of the car. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the huge house in front of me. It was a breathtaking three-story mansion. I could tell that even my parents were impressed. “Who lives here?” my mother asked Travis. “Maids, butlers,” Travis responded, helping my brother unload our bags from the cars. We were met by two men who immediately took the bags from Tom and Travis. They greeted Travis in Spanish and he spoke to them fluently, impressing—I mean, surprising—me. I didn’t know he could speak a language other than douchebag. The inside of the house was even more impressive. It had a huge staircase on the sides that led to the second floor. The front of the house faced the beach and was covered in glass. As soon as you stepped out, there was an infinity pool with a perfect view of the ocean. I was speechless. I wondered why he spent most of his days in our modest home when he had all this? A woman about the age of my mother greeted us. “This is Mrs. Beets. She will take care of everything you need,” Travis said to us. “Mrs. Beets, they’re my family. You know Tom. These are his parents, Mark and Alicia. Please take them to their rooms.” I realized that Travis didn’t even introduce me, which was really another one of his ways to annoy me. He was dismissing me as unimportant. I looked up the lady shyly. She was smiling at me. “Hi,” I greeted her. “Welcome, Miss Brianne,” she said, which surprised me. “How… how did you know my name?” “I know everybody the young master cares about. It’s my job,” she whispered to me. She led me up the stairs, with my parents following behind us while Tom disappeared with Travis. I shook my head. “He hates me. He doesn’t care about me,” I said to her, not letting my parents hear. She smiled again. “He cares more than he shows. Be patient with him. The young master is a fine boy. He may be mischievous on most days, but he loves you and your family and cares about all of you a great deal. He wants you to feel right at home here.” She showed my parents their room, which seems to be the master bedroom. It was huge—they could hold a party there. She led me to another room. It was beautiful. The bed was freshly made and covered by bright green matching bedcovers and pillows. The couches were also in different shades of green, as well as the paintings on the wall. I smiled. I loved green. But nobody seemed to notice that. Tom always bought me pink stuff. And my mom would always get me pink duvets and pillows. The huge bathroom was all white, with a huge Jacuzzi sitting beside the glass wall. I gasped because the bathroom didn’t look private at all. I could see through to the beach, which meant anybody could see into the bathroom as well. “It’s one-way vision, just in case you were wondering,” I heard Travis’s familiar voice behind me say. I turned around and found that Mrs. Beets was gone. I didn’t hear Travis come up behind me. Then he flicked a remote and the window suddenly turned dark, as if it were covered by wallpaper. “Either way, it’s private,” he said. “Where did you come from?” “My room,” he replied. “Your room?” I looked behind him and found that there was another door there that led to another bedroom, which meant we were sharing a bathroom again. I glared at him. “Yeah! I feel right at home already,” I muttered. I turned my back on him and closed the door behind me, but not before I heard Travis’s laughter as he went to his room. I must have fallen asleep because the next think I remembered, the other side of the bed sank as somebody sat on it. “Wake up, princess,” Tom said to me. “You’re wasting the day. Come on! Put on your swimsuit and let’s go. Even Mom and Dad are already having barbeque outside.” “Is Travis there?” “Of course.” “Then I’ll stay here all day, thank you!” I muttered. Tom laughed. Then he stood up and pulled me. “Come on, lazy head. Travis will always be Travis. He just teases a lot and makes fun of you. But he cares about you as much as I do. Just think that you have two brothers. One is nice, the other is naughty.” I groaned and headed to the bathroom with my swimsuit. “I told Travis to make your room pink,” Tom said, looking around. I bet Travis deliberately changed it to green to annoy me, not knowing that I really like green and not pink. Ha! The joke’s on whom now! I went to the beach with Tom. I wore a green and yellow floral dress over my two-piece suit and shorts. Travis was laughing with my parents. When he looked up and saw me, his laughter died in his throat. “You like nice, sweetheart,” my mother said. “Thanks, Mom.” When I looked up at Tom, his brow was raised and I saw the daggers he was shooting with his eyes…directed toward Travis. Travis immediately turned his back on us and went back to the grill to get some food. What was that about? It was probably the first time I saw Tom act like that toward his best friend. Before, it was like that devil couldn’t do anything wrong. Well, I can’t say I wasn’t happy to have him side with me for a change. Tom and Travis surfed while I was left with my parents. Travis was a pro at surfing. It was like he actually lived there along with the waves. It was only recently that Tom tried surfing, too. He was good. But still not as good as his best friend. I turned to my parents. They were eating barbecue. I noticed that they were barely speaking to each other. They were not even looking at each other. “This is a nice house,” I said. “Yes, it is!” my mother agreed immediately. “It was nice of Travis to invite us over,” my dad said almost too eagerly. It was like the two of them were struggling to find a topic to speak about. Geez! What happened to my parents? “How was your room, sweetheart?” my mother asked. “Nice. All green.” “Well, it’s only for the weekend. Green is a neutral color. I’m sure this house wouldn’t have pink stuff since Travis doesn’t have a sister.” I like green! I screamed in my head. It’s as if even my own mother didn’t know me. “I’m glad Tom and Travis became friends,” my dad said. I’m not! “That kid may have everything his heart desires, but he doesn’t have family.” “Where are his parents?” I asked, not that I really cared, simply out of curiosity. “His father is the head of Cross Magnates, one of the biggest companies in the country,” my father explained. “His mother is the head of one of the biggest magazine chains in the country. They are very rich. You can tell from all this property and the cars that Travis drives. I guess they’re out of the country most of the time. I think his mother lives in France more.” “Yay! That makes us lucky! We get to keep Travis!” I said sarcastically. My mother sighed. “Sweetheart, I know you two don’t get along well all the time. But over the years, we’ve learned to love Travis as our own. He needs a family. He needs us. Your brother adores him. I hope you try to get along and sort out your differences. I don’t think this setup is going to change anytime soon.” I sighed in frustration. At that point, I didn’t think my setup with Travis and my life was going to change, either. But I guess life can be a total