Chapter 25: XXI

— RORI —

"Brandon, job well done."

"Sophia, not your best."

"Excellent work, Olivia! You've really improved since the last test."

As i await my Chemistry test results, my heart rate quickens and i feel myself beginning to sweat. I anxiously fumble with my fingers underneath my desk, not noticing the way my knee bounces up and down due to the anticipation.

These stupid tests are the reason i have no sleep schedule and i know that, no matter my result, the perfectionist within me will be left unsatisfied, digging her claws into me and telling me to do better.

I could sit here and praise myself for my natural beauty, as insecure as i may be, but natural ability? That's not something i have when it comes to academics.

There's also my competitive side, which constantly tells me that i need to be better than everyone around me in order to be valued. Especially in a school setting, when most of my peers will be comparing me to my siblings.

At one point, last year, i stopped caring so much about what others thought of me.

I got to a place where i could accept that, if i was bad at a certain subject, even earning a C wouldn't be too damaging.

However, when people start paying attention to me...expect more of me...i feel an extra pressure is then added and that i have to excel in every class. In everything, for that matter.

"Worried i'm gonna beat you, Łabanowski?"

I turn to glare at Christian.

What a stupid boy he is, and what an equally stupid name he has.

Christian.

When i hear it, i don't know whether to picture the religion or the very explicit movie Annalise and i watched last year.

"Of course not, Taylor," i say his last name with a deliberate sneer, causing him to chuckle and arch his eyebrows at me.

Stupid Christian, and his stupid laugh, and his stupid bushy eyebrows.

Does he even know that tweezers exist?

"My eyes are down here, Rori." he smirks, and only then do i realise that i am lost in a trance, allowing my hatred of his eyebrows to consume me.

"Your eyes...are stupid," i say, because it's the only thing i can.

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left, a mock pout present on his lips.

His stupidly large lips...

"And...now your staring at my lips," he says. "I can't tell if that look in your eyes is anger or sheer amazement."

"You are the most annoying person i have ever met," i goad.

"I am?" he asks, not at all offended.

I sigh in disappointment.

Why won't he give me a reaction?

"Yes," i decide. "You make a point to sit next to me in every single class we have together, you treat me like i'm a little kid, always mansplaining the answers to me and going to fetch me things. I don't believe you when you said you wanted to be friends with me this year...i think a certain someone put you up to this."

He stares down at me through long lashes, confusion written all over his face.

Oh, no.

I'm overstepping, aren't i?

But then, as if i never said anything in the first place, the confusion dissipates and his usual, easy-going smile is plastered back on.

"Believe me, Rori, i'm not trying to molly coddle you. I just...care about you, a lot...and i see first-hand just how stressed you get. I guess i just like being of help. Also, i would never go behind your back like that with Seamus. Not anymore," he reassures me. "He may still have the mind of a fifth grader but i don't."

"Yet you're still his best friend," i point out.

"Someone has to be," he says, and i giggle.

My expression softens slightly, the panicked feeling in me beginning to lessen as i converse with Christian.

"I guess i'm just paranoid any time someone suddenly tries to befriend me," i joke. "I don't trust very easily, you know?"

"I know." he nods. "Which isn't all that bad, by the way. You look out for yourself because you feel no one else will. But they do."

We both break eye contact as Mr Clarkson drops a paper onto Christian's desk.

"Try to relax, Rori. It's just a test," he whispers to me, before giving the teacher his full attention.

Of course he would say that, Chemistry is only one of his strongest subjects.

"Outstanding work, Christian," i hear Mr Clarkson praise him, "Top of the class."

I look at Christian and see him grinning at me, a large A+ circled in green at the top of his paper.

I smile and give him a thumbs up, despite myself. But when i see the look on Mr Clarkson's face, i subconsciously sink into my seat.

"Rori..." he trails off, handing me my paper. "See me after class, please."

A chorus of taunting 'ooh's' erupt throughout the classroom, and i roll my eyes, ignoring the sound of my brothers' friends snickering.

The bell rings immediately after and Jason mockingly ruffles my hair as he walks past my desk.

"Looks like someone's in trouble," he sings, laughing when i retaliate.

"Leave her alone, Jase." Christian sighs from beside me, playfully shoving his friend towards the door, before turning to face me with a sympathetic expression. "It'll be okay, Ri. Text me if you need anything, kay?"

I wordlessly nod in response and he offers me one last smile, before leaving the classroom alongside the others.

Only then do i allow my gaze to drop to the paper in front of me, my eyes narrowing in on the grade circled in red in the right-hand corner.

'79% (C+) - Note that your score has dropped 15% since the previous assessment. What happened?'

I couldn't find the time to revise for this test, nor did i pay attention to anything we learned during class this week.

That's what happened, Mr Clarkson.

I come from an extremely dysfunctional family, and currently, there seem to be people within and outwith said family who find pleasure in messing with me and my life.

That's what happened, Mr Clarkson.

"Rori, come here please."

Begrudgingly, and at the slowest pace i can manage, i make my way towards the front of the classroom. He gestures towards the seat beside his desk and i reluctantly sit down.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Ms Łabanowski. You aren't performing well in my class."

"I don't know what else you want me to do."

"The thing is, you don't seem to be improving," he continues. "It's always a C, or, at best, a B."

I narrow my eyes at him, leaning back into the chair with my arms folded across my chest.

"Well that isn't too bad in my books," i tell him.

"You don't try hard enough." he leans towards me, speaking in a low voice, paying no mind to my comment. "At least not in my class."

"I'm doing my best," i say with a slight shrug, but my voice comes out smaller than i would like it to be. "I'm doing what i can."

"Well, clearly your best isn't quite good enough," he raises his voice. "This class has a B average and i will not you have you tarnish that."

"Why don't you just make me drop the subject already? I didn't choose to be here," i cleverly point out.

"Actually, i don't think that's such a bad idea." his lips curve upwards ever so slightly. "Why don't we call home, hm? See what your brothers have to say about it?"

I scoff at his audacity.

"Sure, go ahead." i laugh, bitterly. "They have all the time in the world, really, i know they'd love to hear from you."

"Get out of my class room, Łabanowski!" he barks.

"Gladly!" i retort.

"Just like your God forsaken brothers," i hear him mutter under his breath.

Never in my life have i met a more insufferable person than Mr Clarkson.

He adores Quentin, as does everyone in this goddamn school, but hates me with a passion for whatever no good reason.

I'm not in the mood to be picked apart and judged for every little mistake i make in life, yet i carry this judgement everywhere i go.

My brothers judge me, my friends judge me, my teachers judge me, even fucking strangers judge me, and i'm sick of it.

Why is everyone so hard on me all of the time?

Is Mr Clarkson right?

Am i simply not good enough?

I slam the door of his classroom on my way out. The hallways are silent, as no one occupies them at the moment. The only sound i can hear is my muffled cries, as i pathetically wail into my hands.

I do not care if anyone sees me like this.

I do not care for anyone's judgment.

"Ria?"

Okay, i take it back. This is extremely embarrassing.

"Ria, hey, what's wrong?"

I can't help but cry even more when i lock eyes with Christian.

Why is he here? Who the fuck let him be here when i'm crying?

"Talk to me, Rori. What happened?" he presses, when i don't respond.

"I—i can't." i shake my head, my breathing short, and then i continue to cry after hearing the defeated tone of voice i use.

Christian has never before seen me in such a state like this. So vulnerable. Barely anyone has.

I'm always put together when in public and around those who aren't my family. I sometimes appear a little bull-headed, sure, but put together nevertheless. Only, right now, i feel anything but myself. I feel weak and winded. Just like i did when Teddy was taunting me.

"Come here."

I glance up at him through glossy eyes.

His arms are open wide, and inviting, and i immediately gravitate towards them. He patiently waits until i have wrapped my arms around his torso before encasing me in his. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, i am hugging my brother's best friend.

The first thing i notice is how strangely comforted i feel, as if i had a rightful place in his arms all along. There is no awkwardness about it, despite his connection to me, but it doesn't quite feel the same as when i hug a family member, or even a friend. And his grip is so secure. So much so, i am sure he could hold the weight of me if i was to suddenly go limp in his arms. His chin perfectly aligns with the crown of my head, also. Almost as if we are two pieces of a puzzle, moulded into one.

Height is the one thing Christian never teased me for when we were kids, purely because i was the taller one for so long. After puberty, however, he shot up like a rocket, standing just above Seamus and Quentin. And obviously myself.

The three of them then went out of their way to tease me for being so 'tiny' in comparison. And i couldn't even come up with a suitable response for Christian because it used to be me in his place.

And so i hated that he was taller than me for so many years. Hell, i felt threatened by it.

But now, in this moment, i think our height difference is one of the most perfect things in the universe.

Instead of feeling threatened, i feel protected. Shielded.

I feel safe.

I feel safe in his arms.

"Yakov's gonna be so disappointed in me...a—and Xavi, and everyone," i wail. "I'm gonna be in so much trouble, and they're gonna make me be home-schooled, and—"

Christian's palm presses the side of my face into his chest, his other hand giving my torso a firm, reassuring squeeze.

He shushes me, and i go silent.

He tells me to take a deep breath, and i do so.

"Now release and do it again," he says.

I manage better this time, breathing in slowly and somewhat steadily compared to my previous attempt.

I repeat the process a couple of times and find that my cries begin to lessen and my heart beat returns to normal. All that remains are my red face and sweaty palms.

"There she is," he coos, with an easy smile, as he releases me from his hold. "Do you wanna talk about what happened?" he softly encourages.

I proceed to tell him about everything that has led to my meltdown, excluding the email of course. Throughout, Christian listens without interruption and, once i have finished, he even validates my feelings.

He asks me if i have experienced something similar in the past. I tell him yes, it happens once in a while when i get really overwhelmed, and he makes me promise that i will go to him if it happens again.

"I think you should speak to your brothers about all of this," he advises me. "And i also think you should stop worrying so much about trying to impress them. After all, Seamus doesn't exactly excel at school and they're hardly attacking him for it."

I scoff.

"Chris, Seamus does what he wants and everybody puts up with it. You know, i half believe most of my older brothers are intimidated by him."

He breaks into a grin, dimples flashing and all.

"I don't doubt that. Seamus is the most blunt person i know," he says. "However, i can't imagine that most of your older brothers were model students in the past."

I laugh, because they were definitely nothing of the sort. This applies to even my most intelligent of brothers, who would get up to all sorts of trouble. Besides Yakov, i'm guessing, who received a scholarship to study one year abroad in England, which, unfortunately, he had to abandon when we moved to the states.

I wish i could've witnessed what my oldest brothers were like in high school. They certainly wouldn't have behaved any better than the youngest boys, that's for sure. All i know is that Zephaniah and Yakov, being the eldest, set the standard for the rest of them, and from day one they would be deemed either one's junior. A class clown, or a hard worker.

I think i need not explain which one was which.

And on second thoughts, i am glad i did not attend high school at the same time as them. I'm sure Wyatt would be a laugh, but the eldest three? My God, that would just be torture!

Christian and i talk for a while longer, and my problems that felt so giant only a moment ago begin to feel small and insignificant.

"Hold on, aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" i ask him.

He grins at me once more, shaking his head ever so slightly, and i find myself involuntarily smiling at the way his eyes light up when he does so.

No. Absolutely not.

We've been over this, Rori.

You've known Christian since you were little kids.

He's your brother's best friend.

You do not find him attractive!

"I couldn't leave the pretty lady out here on her own, now, could i?" he teases.

"Mmm, how chivalrous of you," i retort. "Though i'm not sure my crying was all that pretty," i add.

"Hey, nobody's perfect," he quips. "And speaking of which, you might want to wash your face before you head back to class."

"I will." i nod. "And thank you, Christian."

"My pleasure."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

As soon as i arrived home on Thursday evening, i was called into Xavi's office.

He was a tad angered at first because — due to my correct assumption — Mr Clarkson had made out that i was in the wrong and said he was displeased by my attitude shown in class that afternoon.

It was after i explained to Xavi the details Mr Clarkson left out, he demanded that the school sort it out, which they then of course did, by moving me into a different class.

Only that now means, not only do i have to suffer through Chemistry every day, i no longer have Christian by my side to cheer me on.

That's right. In Mr Bueller's class, i am well and truly alone.

Well, not literally. But the girl who sits next to me does nothing but stare at me every now and then in such a way where i can tell she is carefully analysing me, and every time i so much as ask to borrow her eraser, she looks at me as if i have asked her to give me one of her kidneys.

In fact, i'm not sure i even know her first name.

Elodie...Eloise...who knows?

Anyway, Mr Bueller is what the girls call 'total eye-candy' over here.

Americans and their weird phrases, but whatever, he's hot and i have a thing for older guys.

What's new?

Seriously, though. I have a feeling i'm about to do really well in this class. With Mr Clarkson, learning was never fun and i could never pay attention for longer than five minutes. Mr Bueller, on the other hand, allows us to do all sorts of experiments, like lighting things on fire and such.

I like the subject so much better now, only i do miss Christian...more than i'd care to admit.

Speaking of my brother's best friend, i found out earlier on that he is attending Annalise's party tonight, which led me to making the brilliant, smart, and totally justified decision of going behind Xavi's back once more.

"Stay by someone you know the entire time, okay?" Seamus lectures me. "Don't drink too much, don't leave your drink unattended, and don't accept anything from anyone."

"Who put you in charge?" i grumble.

"I'm older, so by default, i am in charge," he answers, with a smug smile.

"Whatever." i roll my eyes. "I'm not going to this party to get wasted, anyway. I'm going to have a good time."

I'm going because your best friend will be there.

"You shouldn't be going anywhere in that outfit." he looks me up and down in scrutiny.

"Nothing's wrong with my outfit, Seamus. Gosh, you're so outdated."

"You may as well be wearing lingerie." he scoffs. "I'm not asking you to cover up your shoulders, Rori, just to not dress like a hooker. You're fifteen years old, for crying out loud."

I chose to wear a red corset top with black, lace detailing all over, which is paired with a black mini skirt, Hello-Kitty fishnets, and Doc Martin platform boots. My hair is styled in its usual thick curls, my makeup simple, with a classic, smoky look, and the jewellery i wear is grungy but almost contrasts with my entire outfit due to the cross pendant that lies just above my chest.

"Just about every fifteen year old girl dresses like a hooker. You're lucky i only do it on occasion."

I offer him a sickly sweet smile and quickly change the subject before he can further retort. The moment we reach the entrance to Annalise's home, i am separated from my brother by Mikey, who leads us straight to the bar. Well, not before the two of them share a semi-awkward 'bro-hug'.

The two of them seem to be more comfortable around each other ever since Mikey came round to our house. Or, rather, i should say that Mikey appears more comfortable in my brother's presence because, as everyone knows, Seamus is not one to act awkward in any circumstance. Seamus is just Seamus. It doesn't matter who you are, everybody gets the same version.

"I thought you weren't coming." Mikey grins, pulling me in for another side-hug.

"I changed my mind. Nothing better to do." i shrug. "Where's Annalise?"

"She's with the girls, outside," he answers. "You gonna head out there?"

"Is Lindsay there?" i ask, with an instinctive frown.

"Sure is," he says, and chuckles sympathetically at the sight of my displeased expression.

"Then no." i shake my head.

"Let me make you a drink then," he insists, patting me on the shoulder as he brushes past me .

"Sure," i comply, climbing onto the nearest barstool.

As i observe Mikey making my drink, i take the time to properly analyse his appearance. I remember my first impression of him was that he must be one of the tallest boys in our year. My twins may be tall, and Christian even taller, but Mikey towers over everyone. He must be close to Teddy's height, though i can't be certain because the two of them have never been seen together.

I also recall that Annalise's first impression of him was that he was 'hot but potentially gay', and i can't help but release a tiny giggle at my friend's assumption. I mean, we still haven't figured him out yet. Not that we would simply ask him what his sexuality is anyway — well, i wouldn't at least — besides, what does it matter? He's our friend, and though we can appreciate his obvious good looks, it's not like either of us are interested.

"What are you giggling about?" he asks, amusement lacing his tone, as he eyes me with suspicion.

"I can't tell you, you'll think i'm a creep. Annalise too," i say.

"Oh, c'mon, now you have to tell me," he insists. "I won't judge you."

"You so will!"

"Don't be silly. Out with it already." he gives me a pointed look, the knife he had been using to chop a strawberry now pointed in my direction.

I hide my face in my hands for a moment, cringing at the mere thought of having to explain my previous thoughts to him. He is so not going to want to be our friend after this.

"Truthfully?" i stall.

"Take your time." he grins, noticing my sheepish demeanour.

"Annalise, for some reason, assumed you were gay the first time she met you. I don't know, she claims she has a sixth sense about such things. I call bullshit, but who knows," i explain, doing my best to avoid making eye contact with him. "Anyway, that's why i was giggling. I just remembered we never got to the bottom of it...Sorry if it seems invasive, or anything. I promise you, we're not that weird."

Instead of him reacting like i thought he would, he simply laughs in good-nature. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, but laugh along with him despite myself.

What can i say? Laughter is contagious.

"There's no need to excuse yourself. I know what Annalise is like," he says, passing me my drink.

I look down at the concoction and my eyes widen in amazement. He has created a cocktail for me, filled to the brim with many different fruits: ranging from slices of strawberry to mango. Within the first sip, i am overcome with sweetness, followed by the strong taste of what i can only assume to be vodka.

"Holy shit, Mikey! This is insane!"

It has to be one of the best cocktails i've tried in my life, and i'm not just saying that to be bias.

"What is this?"

"It's my own take on a Tizana, a traditional drink from my home country," he responds, proudly. "Uh, i added a little bit of Club Soda and a splash of some mango and passion fruit flavoured Vodka."

I empty the contents of the glass within seconds and Mikey offers me a refill, which i gladly accept.

"To answer your query, or rather, Annalise's, i'm not gay, no," he says, and, because of being distracted by the drink in my hand, i had almost forgotten what we were previously discussing.

"Oh," i muse. "Well, i can't say i'm surprised."

"Why's that?" he asks.

"Just...i don't know."

"What about you?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow, a small smirk on his face.

"What about me?" i say, with a nervous laugh.

"Well," he begins. "If you get to ask me such questions then surely i can ask you the same?"

"In all fairness, i didn't really ask," i dismiss him, and he smiles.

"Touché," he mutters. "Well i know for a fact you like guys, you're always flirting with them."

I scoff at his blunt attitude.

"Well, yes, clearly i'm not gay," i answer, as he did.

He nods, failing to hide a smile.

"I know."

I revert my attention to the cocktail glass, gently swaying it, observing how its contents swirl from side to side, the ice clinking. I hear the sound of boys obnoxiously cheering from the other room, and the music is turned up.

'Jump Around' by House Of Pain blasts through the built in speakers of Annalise's modest mansion, and i roll my eyes at Mikey, who gives me a knowing look in response.

I love the song, but i am not about to get trampled on by dozens of intoxicated teenage boys.

I remain by Mikey's side for a while longer and he serves me more Venezuelan drinks. I also attempt to make my own version of some basic Italian drinks i've tried in the past for him, as well as a combination of Polish and Russian shots for the two of us, but it is safe to say i will need more practice in order to get to his level.

"So, how long have you liked Christian?"

I spit my drink back into the cup, and then grimace, placing it back onto the worktop in front of me. Mikey raises an amused eyebrow at me, and i desperately avoid his gaze.

"I don't like Christian," i tell him, and he scoffs a laugh.

"Yeah, right," he says. "I saw you two the other day at school. Not to mention, people talk."

"No. People spread rumours. There's a difference," i tell him, rather curtly, and he shakes his head.

"Right." he nods his head, though his tone contradicts him. "So he's not the reason you showed up tonight after you profusely insisted you weren't gonna come?"

"Nope," i instantly respond.

"Nor the reason you're acting so restless and drinking just about everything you can get your hands on?"

"Nope," i repeat.

"Whatever you say, Freckles," he mocks, with a smug look on his face, meeting my eyes with a wink. "Anyway, we've been isolated in here for far too long now, and since we are at a party, we're only obligated to socialise."

I groan into the palms of my hands and go to reach for my drink again, only for Mikey to place a bottle of water in my hands and give me a scolding look that could rival that of my brothers'.

"No more dancing juice for you tonight, Rockstar," he decides, placing his hands on either one of my shoulders and directing me towards the doorway. "We don't want you to end up pulling any stunts like last time, now, do we?"

"Jesus." i scoff. "You start hanging out with my brothers and suddenly you turn into them," i say, with exasperation, and i hear him laugh from above me.

— SUCKER PUNCH —

Shortly after my conversation with Mikey, i remember that i have not yet greeted Annalise. This is her party, after all, and it would be rude not to say hello. Not to mention, she is my best friend. It doesn't surprise me that she has been missing the entire night, however. At parties like these, it is virtually impossible to stick together. And, seeing as she is the hostess, i would imagine she is the most popular person of the night.

"Where's Anna?" i address Lindsay and her clique, as i pass them on my way back into the house.

"She ran off a few minutes ago." Carly shrugs, nervously avoiding my gaze.

"Hey, is your brother here?" Lindsay interjects, and i suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

"Of course he is."

I notice that her eyes light up at the confirmation and i now feel bad for my brother, who will no doubt have the girl following him around for the rest of the evening like a lost puppy. I don't know why she has chased after him for so long, and continues to do so, even though he makes it blatantly obvious he isn't interested. Most likely because she wishes to gain more popularity and power, and dating Seamus would mean she would be untouchable.

She is, of course, very pretty: a tall, slender girl with a modelesque figure and strawberry blonde hair. She might even be his type, if i am not mistaken, only Seamus would never date a girl who cannot keep his sister's name out of her mouth.

Fergie's 'London Bridge' plays as i make my way through the crowd, desperate to find my best friend, only i come to a halt when i see the outline of who i know is Christian.

There, at the other side of the room, he is conversing with some random girl. She says something to make him laugh, but it only makes me frown.

For some reason, i feel sparks of jealously watching the two of them together. It's funny, i never thought of myself as a jealous girl, but lately i'm not so sure who i am.

"Łabanowski."

I look to my left and find a boy holding his hand out towards me. He appears to be older than me. In fact, i believe him to be a senior. He's not a friend of my brothers (not that i'm aware of, anyway) but i have definitely seen his face before. Handsome, of course, with the appropriate height, hair, and beautiful eyes. Well, they're not the type i could get lost in but beautiful nonetheless.

"Dance with me?" he asks, rather confidently.

I glance in Christian's direction once more and he is still talking to the girl. She appears to be older than us too, and so i think to myself, if Christian has found himself an older girl to spend the night with, i may as well one up him with this senior who is rather keen to do more than just talking.

"Sure," i gleefully respond.

The boy leads us into the middle of the crowd, wrapping his hands around my waist from behind. He's been drinking. I've been drinking. I bask in the attention he gives me.

I giggle as i feel his breath on my neck and he then begins to place kisses there, sucking on the skin. We are all packed into this room like sardines, as grand as it may be, and, once again, i have been drinking.

The boy calls me beautiful and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, making me smile.

At this moment, i have long forgotten about my brother and his pointless lecturing. Not that he is around to scold me anyhow. And in fact, where has he been the entire night? Well, he's not with Christian, so i assume he must be with the rest of their friends.

"Stay here. I'll go get us some drinks, okay?"

I wordlessly nod, and the boy flashes me a dimpled smile and pats me on the cheek, before heading in the direction of the bar. Tristan, i think his name is, which is rather funny because he actually reminds me a lot of Tristan Dugray from Gilmore Girls.

And to think that i'm not even into blondes...

Only, as i am waiting for his return, i notice a figure approaching from the corner of my eye. And before i can so much as look in their direction, their hand grips my arm causing me to squeal involuntarily.

"Outside. Now."

I immediately recognise the voice to be Christian's, and, although some part of me feels satisfied to have grasped his attention, i quickly grow irritated at those two words.

Who the hell does he think he is, swooping in and ruining my fun like that? I mean, seriously, he has no right to be making demands of any sort.

I am so going to give him a peace of my mind, i am so going to—

"You— you— what are you doing?" i screech.

Okay, so that did not go as planned. But it's not my fault that my mouth can't keep up with my brain. Well, maybe it is. I did drink a little more than i planned to...or maybe a lot more than i planned to.

But it's not my fault! Mikey was responsible. Not me.

"What am i doing?" he cocks an eyebrow at me, his tone that of disbelief. "You're the one who was letting that boy put his hands all over you...and his lips!" he exclaims. "I mean, do you even know the guy? Cause i do. And he's a dick. A perv. Not to mention the fact he's eighteen. A Goddamn senior!"

"So what?" i ask, feigning innocence. "I suppose you didn't have intentions with that junior girl?"

This time, he laughs. Without a trace of humour, of course. And it's hard to believe that the Christian standing before me is the same person who, just yesterday, held me in his arms like i was the most delicate flower and soothed me until i had not a single tear left to cry.

"You know, you're lucky it was me who caught you and not your brother," he tells me. "There's no telling what he would've done."

He sighs, and peers down at me, his arms folded across his torso like he means business. Neither of us say anything to the other, and his expression soon softens. I take in his appearance. He wears a white tank top underneath a wine coloured short-sleeved shirt, all of the buttons left undone. On his bottom half, he wears a pair of baggy, faded jeans and white sneakers.

My eyes don't pay much attention to his bottom half, however, but rather choose to focus on the outline of his broad, muscular shoulders. I've never really noticed his physique before, given that, most of the time, i see him in school uniform. It's safe to say that he has developed quite a bit since we were kids.

He isn't a man yet, of course, but he has a certain matureness about him that entices me. Maybe it's the fact he is older than me. Only by a year, granted, but older nonetheless.

Of course, he has always held this over me too. And i have half a mind to bring it up to him after the stunt he just pulled. Since the beginning of the school year, he has become a changed person in many ways but, just like when we were younger, he doesn't hesitate to lecture me when given the chance.

Regardless of what Christian said the other day, i wouldn't be surprised if Seamus gave him the okay to piss me off in such a way. And of course, the world seems to bend at his will...

He scrutinises me for a moment longer, shaking his head, and then produces a single cigarette from the back pocket of his jeans.

Wordlessly, he turns around and heads in the direction of the two-seater swinging chair by the veranda. I shrug my shoulders and follow behind him.

He takes a seat, sprawling his legs in the way only men do, and then produces a hot pink lighter from the same pocket. I take a seat beside him, crossing my legs like the proper young lady i am.

"I didn't know you smoke," i say.

"I don't," he responds.

"Well, what is that then?" i point to the cigarette in his hands; the one he is currently lighting.

He doesn't respond this time, but simply takes a single drag of the cigarette.

"You're driving me insane, that's what," he answers, but i don't detect any sort of annoyance behind his words. Only fondness.

We are silent for a few minutes. Christian smokes and my watchful gaze rarely leaves him. I don't know if he notices that i am staring at him like a creep, but he doesn't comment on it.

He looks so good tonight. Well, he always looks good. But he looks especially good tonight.

"I wish it was you," i say, and he turns to face me wearing a puzzled expression.

"Sorry?"

"I wish it was you who approached me tonight," i elaborate. "Rather than Tristan."

Our eyes meet, and to say he looks bewildered is an understatement. But then something changes, and he smirks, nodding his head in realisation.

"No you don't," he says.

"No, i don't."

I stand up, now looking down at him, and take the cigarette from his grasp. He shakes his head at me as i take a drag and i wink at him in response.

"I like driving you insane."

— SUCKER PUNCH —

In our mansions in the hills, we don't have to worry about noise complaints from neighbours, and so Annalise's party carries on throughout the early hours of the morning with no trouble at all.

I avoid drinking for the rest of the night, or rather, my friends make sure i don't, and sober myself up as much as possible before heading home. Seamus is apparently so drunk that he will have to spend the night at Christian's, and many others decide to stay in Annalise's guest rooms. Luckily, Christian's brother is in town tonight and so he assures me that he will have him contact my guardian and inform him that he found the two boys passed out when he arrived home.

And so, at the very least, Seamus will still be reprimanded but it is the best we could come up with at such short notice. Luckily, Alfonso is cool with it. I don't think he particularly likes the thought of going behind my brothers' backs, but they have no reason not to believe him since Seamus is round there so often and is practically one of the family.

I just wish my brothers were as cool as Alfonso, but then again, he is not responsible for Christian in any way and the two of them are extremely close.

Before i can order an Uber, Christian insists that i get in the same car as them as he doesn't want me to be left on my own so late at night. I try to argue with him that, once again, i don't need a babysitter, but he simply dismisses me each time and eventually forces me into the car with them. Literally.

Well, the only thing is, it is not quite a car like i had expected but rather a town car, similar to the one i was in the other day alongside Zephaniah and my twins.

Christian sits next to me, and Seamus sits opposite us with his head resting against the window. He releases a loud groan, successfully breaking the silence we have been sitting in for the past few minutes.

"You okay, Bud?" Christian voices his concern.

"Don't you dare call me bud," Seamus retorts, failing to be threatening for once in his life as he childishly points his finger at Christian.

"Sure, Bud," the latter says, with a smug smirk, causing me to hit his arm. "Ow?" he looks at me with an offended glare.

"Don't wind him up," i scold, causing him to roll his eyes.

Christian has also had a little too much to drink.

"Hey, i thought you were ordering an Uber. What's with the town car?" i ask him, narrowing my eyes when he snorts.

"It's your brothers'," is all he says.

"Excuse me?" i say. "What, this car belongs to my brothers?"

"No." he shakes his head. "Well...technically, yes."

"I'm not following," i tell him.

"The car company is owned by your brothers, i'm pretty sure," he explains. "Or someone in your family, at least."

"Well, it's the first i'm hearing of it," i say, somewhat offended.

It seems that i'm often learning more about my family from outsiders these days than i am from my family themselves. A quick google search of my last name will only bring up a few photos of my eldest siblings attending events and such, and your basic Wikipedia report stating the only known information there is about our family. A few articles, also, which all state the same, basic information and go into little detail about the eldest three and their success as businessmen.

I've never really delved deeper than what's on the surface, because why on earth would i want to research about my boring, ol' brothers that i've known since birth?

I think the only time it ever crossed my mind to do so was during Zephaniah and Yakov's absence, but i never quite followed through, fearing that i wouldn't like what i found...

"Are you sure you don't want us to stop by your house first?" Christian asks me, once his street comes into view. "I just don't feel that great about leaving you on your own at this time of night," he admits.

I roll my eyes in good nature.

"I'll be fine, Chris. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, you know?"

His gaze softens, and he wordlessly nods his head, before muttering "I know."

"Besides, Seamus is going to throw up any minute now."

As if proving my point, my brother does so as soon as he exits the vehicle, causing both Christian and i to grimace in disgust. The latter helps stabilise his friend, narrowly avoiding the vomit that now resides on his otherwise pristine drive way, and the two of them slowly make their way into the luxurious home.

As my brother and his friend disappear from my view, and the town car exits the residence, a strange feeling washes over me, the silence that now fills the air becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

The driver doesn't once speak to me, but i heard Christian tell him my address when we first got into the vehicle and so i assume he knows where he is going. Christian also lives nearer Santa Monica, and so the drive should only be a matter of minutes at this time of the day.

Looking out of the window, i quickly grow bored at the sight of the familiar streets and even feel myself begin to doze off a little. We travel downhill until we reach the end of Christian's neighbourhood, and, after a few minutes, we end up downtown.

It's strange, because the driver has chosen a much longer journey than necessary. In fact, one does not even need to pass town in order to reach my house...it is much further uphill than Christian's, after all.

Usually, i am on high alert and would pick up on such things much quicker, but, at this point, i have drunk so much alcohol that i just feel extremely drowsy and lethargic. It's not like me at all, when i think about it, but i'd rather this this than end up like Seamus.

I press the black button next to the screen that divides me and the driver and watch as it rolls down.

He is a man in his mid-sixties, by the looks of it, with a bald patch on the top of his head and grey roots which contrast the black by his ears. He is dressed elegantly, of course, in a suit, and never once takes his eyes off of the road, his large, pale hands gripping the wheel without mercy.

"Excuse me, Sir?" i address him, my tone of voice nothing but polite. "Where might we be going?"

"I apologise, my dear, for my part in this exchange," he begins, and his voice holds a clear hint of tenderness: one in which the narrator of a children's book would use. "But, unfortunately, i cannot disobey the boss's orders."

Initially, i don't panic at his words. I mean, how could i when he delivered them in such a heartfelt way?

Perhaps it was designed to manipulate me, i tell myself. And if that is the case, it's surely working.

For i already cannot harm this man in any way; not a man whom i have already assumed has grandchildren, and probably narrates to them such books with his Disney-like voice.

If i were any of my brothers, and i mean any of them, there would be no hesitation.

But i am not, and so i will sit here and do nothing until he gives me reason to do otherwise.

Bad men don't apologise before putting you in harms way. They simply do it and feel no remorse, or perhaps offer some weak apology afterwards. One that is insincere.

"I see," i say, unwavering. "Only, is it true that you work for my family?"

"It is," he replies, remorsefully. "Well, one man in particular...I've already said too much."

"I don't suppose you're referring to my uncle?"

He doesn't reply, and that's when i notice the black blindfold he has now placed on the centre console.

"You must put it on," he tells me, in a gentle tone of voice. "You must put it on, and then you will be escorted to meet someone."

My hands betray me as i reach for the blindfold, trembling, as i finally experience fear and the weight of what he is saying. Though he tried his best to make it sound less intimidating, it has the opposite affect on me.

I will be escorted to meet someone.

Exactly ninety-two seconds pass before the vehicle comes to a stop and i hear the driver's window being rolled down.

"Whatever you do, i ask you not to lay a hand on that little girl," i hear the driver say.

I hear the sound of another man scoffing.

"Relax, Old Man, she's family."

"Exactly," the driver seethes. "I know what those hooligans are like. I may as well be feeding her to the lions!"

"Ah, but why worry?" the man asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

At this point, what can only be another man opens the door to the vehicle; instantly unbuckling my seatbelt, pulling me from my seat, and planting me onto the ground as if i weigh nothing.

The other man now finishes his sentence: "Lions don't eat the young...oh, wait, no, they do," he says, with a maniacal laugh. "Yeah, you should be worried."

The man who has not yet let go of me turns us around and i, still with my blindfold on throughout, have to rely on his guidance.

I don't speak; i don't even make a sound. But the two men don't seem to bother at all, as they exchange conversation with one another, my brain completely tuning them out.

However, i am soon brought back to reality when one of them pats me on the shoulder.

"Watch out for the stairs here," he tells me.

I appreciate his warning, as i find myself having to hold onto both railings in order to keep my balance. Luckily, the men don't feel the need to rush me. They continue with their irrelevant conversation and seem completely unfazed by their part in my kidnapping, unlike the driver. Almost as if this is any other mundane part of their job, which i suppose it might be.

Their conversation finally stops when we reach the bottom of the staircase, however, and then i am escorted to an uncomfortable chair.

"How was she?" a new voice asks, and i instantly conclude that this must be the man whom was waiting on my arrival.

"Extremely compliant," the comedian shares, and i can tell he has a smug face when he says it.

"You didn't bruise her, did you?" the voice asks, his tone a lot harsher this time around.

I hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and then the second man speak.

"Of course not!" he exclaims.

"Then that must be what i think it is," he says, his tone that of pure disgust. "You can take your blindfold off now, and you can cover up with this."

I am surprised to find him standing right beside me when i take the blindfold off, holding a black trench coat which he has clearly just taken off of his own back, but what i am more surprised by is the fact that i recognise this man.

"It's you?" i speak for the first time. "You're the man i keep seeing...outside of the restaurant and- and in Aunt Tosca's," i say, unsettled. "And your voice..." i continue. "You're the man who called me that night my brother ended up in the hospital. You're him!" i exclaim, horrified.

The man looks down at me, his stoic expression unchanging, and then he waves the coat, as if i hadn't yet noticed it being held in front of my face.

"Are you going to take this from me, or do i have to dress you myself?" he asks, slowly and clearly, as if i might not understand him.

"I don't want your stupid coat." i shake my head at him. "I want answers."

The two men behind us laugh, but i don't dare break the staring match between me and the stranger.

"So much for compliance." the comedian snorts.

"Gentlemen, i ask you to leave the room," the stranger says, without once removing his gaze from mine. "Your presence is no longer needed, nor is your commentary."

As the men leave the room, the stranger still stands over me, the arm holding his coat out-stretched, his eyebrows now raised, as if challengingly.

I quickly get the message and, despite myself, snatch the coat from his hands — this meeting is on his terms, how can i be so dumb as to challenge him? — only once i begrudgingly drape it over my shoulders does he return to his place on the other side of the desk.

Unlike my uncomfortable, tattered looking chair, his is much larger and more luxurious looking. Even still, it is not the best looking chair that one could have but a far cry from the one i am currently sitting on, and i can only assume that this is a deliberate tac tic of his.

I wait for the stranger to speak, only he doesn't. He simply looks at me intently and i find myself growing even more irritated. I try not make him aware of my nervousness, barely refraining from fiddling with my bracelet, but my leg betrays me by bouncing up and down.

The ghost of a smile graces the stranger's face, as if he is pleased by my obvious signs of fear, and my stomach twists in disgust. What is he, some kind of sadist? Well, he wouldn't be the first to be amused at my expense.

"There's no need to be scared, Little Red. I think you'll find that i'm a perfectly reasonable person."

At this, i can't help but scoff.

"Reasonable, how?" i ask. "You've clearly been stalking me and my family for some time now. What's the deal? What do you want from us?"

As soon as i first heard him speak, i had no doubts that he is the same man who called me in forewarning of my brother's demise. And if that wasn't a dead giveaway, the nickname he just used is.

His accent is even thicker in person, and sounds similar to that of my older brothers, which is how i determine he is Russian.

"I brought you here because, in order to get my revenge, i require your assistance," he nonchalantly answers.

I look him up and down in sheer disbelief.

"Revenge on who, exactly?"

"I think you know who," he instantly responds.

My eyes close involuntarily at the exasperation i feel and i release a soft sigh of acceptance, nodding my head. When i open my eyes a moment later, the stranger's eyebrows are furrowed as if he is scrutinising me.

"Let me get this straight," i begin, my tone severe. "You want me to be a pawn in your revenge plan for Zephaniah?"

"Точно."

I'm taken aback when he smirks at me, his lifeless eyes resuscitated, as he leans over the desk providing space between the two of us.

"I want you to be a pawn in my little game and help me get revenge on Zephaniah," he confirms.

Of course it involves Zephaniah.

It always involves Zephaniah.

"But you're the same person who called me ahead of time and made sure that i saved him from death. I don't understand," i point out, confused.

"Well, i could hardly get my revenge if he were to die," he answers, simply.

"And what if i refuse to be your pawn?" i ask him, lifting my head up a little higher.

This time, he huffs in amusement. Though, without hesitancy, tells me, "If you refuse, i'll make it known that you became a murderer at the age of thirteen. How's that?"

My confident expression falters momentarily, and i gulp.

Gosh, what i would give for even the most minuscule sip of water at this moment. I had kept hydrated the entire night, yet my mouth has completely drained itself of its saliva, anxiety consuming me entirely.

I quickly plaster on a nonchalant expression before he can pick up on it, and meet his stern gaze with my own.

"A reasonable person wouldn't blackmail a little girl," i say, condescendingly shaking my head at him.

"Yes. Only, little girls don't normally party through the night and have their necks covered in such an array of scarlet, either," he retorts, without missing a beat.

I glance down at the trench coat which remains draped over me, my mouth forming an 'o' shape, in understanding.

"Besides," he continues, completely unfazed by the embarrassment he just caused me, "isn't it reasonable that i'm giving you a choice in this? If i really wanted to, i could've resorted to other methods."

I sigh in resignation and avert my gaze for a moment, as i begin to contemplate every life decision that led up to this very moment.

I try to think of what Zephaniah would do right now, if he were in my position, but i am my own person and so it is impossible to embody his persona. Not only that, but Zephaniah is a grown adult which, yes, i often forget about our thirteen year age gap. The point is, little girl or otherwise, i am at a major disadvantage. Zephaniah may be able to easily make his way out of such situations, with all the money and power he has, but i cannot.

I am royally screwed.

"Tell me, Rori," he begins, using my name for the first time. "Has your brother ever wronged you before?"

"Of course," i instantly respond.

"Give me an example," he orders.

"What are you? A therapist?" i scoff.

To my surprise, he flashes me an indulgent smile.

It's strange, the way his features remain so composed and yet he seems to smile so often. My brothers also don't shy away from displaying their amusement, whether mocking or genuine, only they appear much more...broody, and this man has a rather friendly face, despite the fact this encounter is anything but that. He reminds me of Quentin, a little.

"Go on," he encourages.

My expression falls, as i think of the many moments in which my brother has let me down.

The many moments in which he has proved that my love for him is one-sided.

But as usual, my mind returns to the morning five years ago when i experienced such heartbreak for the first time.

"He left me, when i was ten," i tell the stranger. "My other brother went with him," i add. "It was the day after my birthday. He had gifted me a locket with a picture of the two of us inside and told me he was proud of me. He'd never been so sweet to me before." i pause to take a deep breath, doing my best to avoid getting caught up in the memory. "The next morning was the first and only time i saw my brother Xavi cry. They'd left with no explanation."

Thinking about that morning is one thing, but having to describe it in the presence of a complete stranger is a whole different level of uncomfortable and i feel as if old wounds have just resurfaced.

"And what do you think, or feel, when such memories come to mind?" he prompts.

I look up at him through tired, glossy eyes, his staring back at me intently.

"All the positives i associate with him suddenly disappear," i tell him. "All the good memories: the laughs we've shared over the years, it's like they don't matter anymore...it's like nothing matters anymore, and in its place i feel heartbroken, betrayed...and i feel such a strong resentment."

I've expressed my feelings towards Zephaniah more thoroughly in the span of a few seconds, to a stranger who is blackmailing me, than i have with any of my family members in what feels like forever.

And what's worse is that it's probably the first time i've actually acknowledged and somewhat validated my feelings. Before my brothers' return, i was harboured by a hatred that existed because of love. But as of lately, i have felt extremely conflicted. Although our relationship has been somewhat rekindled and, i suppose, strengthened since, i still hold onto the past. And the truth is, i worry i'll never be able to let go.

"I, too, have been victim to Zephaniah's reckless actions. So you must understand that i refuse to move on until justice is served," he reasons. "My methods of coping may differ from yours, but i was impacted in a different way. And any reasonable person," there he goes with that term again, "would acknowledge that, sometimes, revenge is the only answer."

I close my eyes once more for a brief moment, internally thanking the ceiling fan as the cool breeze it creates washes over me, and, when i open my eyes, i offer my hand to the stranger, who firmly shakes it with his own.

"Just know that i hate you for doing this," i tell him. "For making me turn against my own brother; my family. And know he will never forgive me, for as long as i live."

His expression does not soften, but rather hardens, as if he is angered by my words.

"Rori, he abandoned you at a young age. As did your mother and father. You need to learn that family does not always equal loyalty."

Suddenly, this information reminds me of something the comedian had said outside. That i am family. I had thought, perhaps, that the men were leading me to meet Henryk. Only the stranger has not yet shared his name with me. And i don't need a magnifying glass to know that he cannot be old enough to be my father's older brother.

"How do you know so much about me?" i ask, in a small voice. "Have you really been stalking me for so long?"

This time, his expression relaxes ever so slightly.

"My name is Damiano," he reveals, surprising me when he uses an Italian accent to pronounce his first name. "Damiano Łabanowski."

My entire body seems to freeze in place when i hear my surname flow from his mouth, so naturally.

But nothing could have prepared me for what next comes out his mouth...

"And you, Little Red, are my half-sister."

(Edited)

A/N: I have changed quite a bit in this chapter, including the name of our newest character, but i think i prefer it to the original. Key word being think. I remember the OG readers were so shocked at the end reveal and most of them thought he would end up being Henryk, though i'm not sure if those of you reading this chapter for the first time will be as shocked since i probably (accidentally) made it more obvious than before. Anywho, let me know your general thoughts and what you think of Rori agreeing to help Damiano seek revenge on Zephaniah. More to come in the next chapter!