15 | Pay The Fines

MIÉRCOLES

4:09 PM

Reid Harlow

Presley is sitting behind his desk, flipping through the pages of his textbooks. I noted that he's left-handed, like Dahlia, but he's able to maneuver using both hands with eloquence. Presley looks focused, determined, and he looks like he has his life in order.

"What?" Presley says, without looking up from his notebook. "Are you trying to figure out a way to murder me or something?"

I roll my eyes, sinking back against my seat. "I'm debating it."

"Well, cut it out," he continues the ruse, jotting down a couple of additional notes. It looks like he was writing in cursive. "I'm planning on living this life for a very long time—unless, global warming happens and kills us all."

I shake my head, turning away from him and back to the paper flowers in my lap. I have a tendency to make them when I'm bored—especially since I've already finished my homework for today and the following week to come.

I stay silent, debating on how to bring it up. I mean, I know I'm not exactly tight-knit with the family and I don't plan on changing that, but I made a promise to Dahlia. I told her I was going to teach her how to drive and I plan on fulfilling that.

Even if I have to steal a car myself.

I feel something hit the side of my head and I turn to see Presley holding up his arm, like he finished a throw. I glance down at the object he threw, and saw a penny laying on my mattress. I look up.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Presley prompts, smiling mischievously. I scowl, gritting my teeth and taking the penny into my palm.

"You don't fucking throw the penny to get the person to talk," I snap, dropping it onto my desk. I debated throwing it back at him. "You offer it."

"Well," he drags, "who knows what I have to do to catch your attention. Sometimes I have to put in double the work to get you to talk to me."

"Or just leave me alone," no, I need him, I thought but it's hard to control that automatic response from me. "I'm not your family. You don't have to fucking know me."

Presley frowns and doesn't say anything more. I had to force myself to look away, but in that moment, I felt guilty. I felt like an asshole—a genuine asshole—and suddenly, I'm pulled back to how I feel about Dahlia. How Dahlia feels about her father.

And how I'm just like him.

But I can't help it.

I don't want to put myself in that position again, to be so vulnerable. I don't want to get hurt, and I don't want to be set up for disappointment—to have a day where I wake up, after finally feeling content with myself, just to have them leave.

Just to have them not want me anymore.

It's better to be safe than sorry.

I hold my tongue and allow the silence to seduce the atmosphere. I glance down at my lap, seeing the paper flowers wrinkling underneath the covers of a blanket and to see my promise slowly slipping from my grasp.

I promised her.

I told her I would.

"Presley," I clear my throat, turning back to face my foster brother. He looks up from his textbooks, his brows furrowed together in question. I swallow a couple of times, trying to relieve this bile in my throat, "can I borrow your car?"

Presley looks even more confused, and I felt the need to add, "I'm teaching Dahlia how to drive. She has her learning permit and all but she hasn't been behind a wheel before. That's all."

Presley begins to slip into a boyish smile and he has since abandoned his pencil. He turns the desk chair all the way towards me, amusement crossing his features. "Is Reid Harlow—the Reid Harlow—asking for help? My help?"

I regret it. Instantaneously. I'd rather hotwire a car every night and teach Dahlia in it than deal with this shit.

Presley's smile grows, and by my silence, he seems to be taking pride into me asking for help. I shake my head. I hate this. This reaction was worse than I predicted, and I'm this close to telling Presley to fuck off and figure out a way to handle it myself, a way to teach her.

It might be harder, and it might take longer.

But I can still teach her.

But isn't it nice to not have to go through all of that?

I clench my jaw, so tightly that I felt like my teeth were going to shatter, before I released them.

"I just need to borrow your car on some days. If you can't do that, then fuck off and we'll end this conversation—"

"No, wait," Presley holds out a hand, before I finish retracting myself pleading for help. He steps up from his seat, coming closer to my side of the room. "I'll do it. I'll let you have the car to teach Dahlia."

I find myself releasing a sigh of relief. As much as it pains me to admit—I'm thankful for that.

"I have two conditions though," Presley says, holding up two fingers. My shoulders drop, and a frown finds itself on my face as I knew life wasn't going to be this easy and everything comes at a cost.

"I like Dahlia, I do, and it's one of the reasons why I'm letting you do this but," he sucks in a breath, "you do know how to drive, right?"

I nod. "Of course, why the fuck do you think I would've offered up teaching lessons if I didn't know how to drive?"

"Great," he releases a sigh of relief, "but those aren't my conditions."

"Then what the fuck do you want?"

"You have to ask me when you're taking my car. You can't just take the keys off the hook midday and expect to come back without any penalty. You have to ask for my permission. It doesn't matter if you're going for a spin at three am in the morning—wake me up and tell me so at least I'll know."

I nod. I can come to terms with that. I just have to let him know, it shouldn't be that hard.

"And second," Presley puts down his second finger, "you have to make an effort for this family."

That one—that one's harder to do.

"Presley—"

"I don't ask for much," Presley continues. "I'll pay for the gas, if there's any problems you can use my insurance and I'll cover all the fees—just don't crash my car—but all I'm really asking is for you to make an effort for this family. They're not bad people, Harlow. They love and they care, and they're going to be the best fucking people you ever know if you just open yourself to them."

I clench my jaw, but I don't decline the offer just yet. It sounds like a fucking fantastic deal, and I barely have to do anything other than not crash his car and tell him when I'm using it.

And, open myself a little to the family.

I don't have to like them.

I don't have to claim them to be my family and I don't have to pretend for anything.

I just have to contribute.

Just an effort.

"Fine," I nod, agreeing to his demands. Presley instantly brightens, and he pumps his fists in the air in accomplishment. I scowl, rolling my eyes at his behavior. "But this doesn't mean what I feel will fucking change. I'm just going to make more of an effort."

"It doesn't matter what you think you feel right now," Presley rebuttals, dropping his celebration. "It'll change. I can promise you that."

I scoff, because I don't believe it. I don't see myself opening up to anyone, or letting anyone in. I like being alone. I like how I am.

"Presley! Harlow!" I hear Sebastian yell from downstairs, through the muffles of the closed door. "I'm going out for a run, do you want to join?"

"I'll be there!" Presley yells back in return, but I don't say anything. My foster brother turns to me, his dark eyes meeting mine and he looks at me with a quirk of his brow.

I sigh. "I'll be there, too."

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AVA'S NOTES

this quarantine is really getting to me. is anyone else slowly going insane?

please vote and comment!!