Before Madi can respond, Adrian comes up to us. “Woah, Diana. You’re here.” He then turns to Madi with a joking grin, which is odd for the broody guy. “How much money did they pay her?”
She giggles. Okay, something is up with these two. “Nothing, I swear.”
Taking it as my cue, I turn around slowly to retrieve the ball. The more steps I take, the less uneasy I feel about being a third wheel.
I bump into a tall, buff figure. Before I can apologize, said figure holds out his hand—I’ve determined that it's a guy—where the little white ball rests.
Looking up, I find Mason staring down at me. I may not interact with all my neighbors but Mason is the one I see theleast of. “Thanks, Mason,” I reply, grabbing the ball from his hand.
“No problem,” he grunts. “Never thought I’d see you here, Diana.”
“Neither did anyone else,” I mutter.
He nods, then swivels his head from left to right before turning back to me. “Did Lucia come with you?”
“Yeah, she’s with Emma and Ronnie while they wait for Enzo.”
“Thanks.” Mason then dashes off. Okay, what is it with all of my roommates getting with our neighbors? First, there’s Ronnie and Enzo—no one was surprised there, to be honest—then Adrian and Madi, and now Mason and Lucia?
I fear I might die alone with thirteen cats at this rate but I digress.
Turning back around, I make my way over to the ping pong table when I step on something round and hard, nearly falling onto the floor. Luckily, I manage to catch myself before I can face-plant on the freshly cut grass.
What did I step on? It wasn’t a Lego—that thing felt much more painful than a Lego ever did. I crouch down, trying my utter best to keep myself covered with my dress while also getting low enough, and picking up the silver ring. Not sanitary. I drop the ball onto the table and head back inside to find the nearest sink.
Because I have such amazing luck (apparently), I find a lack of college students waiting for the bathroom and it only takes me two minutes to enter inside and wash the dirt off of the ring.
Now it’s time to find the owner. When I was younger, I always had a habit of finding lost things and returning them to their owners. Like a Cuban Tinkerbell in the first movie, or Hermes.
I chuckle to myself. With the ring in my hand, I look like I’m about to propose to someone but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
A couple of minutes pass by and I have yet to hear a single person drunkenly scream, “Where’s my ring?”
“Where’s my ring???”
There it is.
But I can’t pinpoint the sound to anyone in particular so I head on over to the kitchen and lean my head against the freezer door. I allow myself to observe the ring resting on the palm of my right hand. In the middle of the silver band rests two hands holding a heart, with a crown on the top.
I recognize this design. I’ve never seen a Claddagh ring in person before until now and let’s just say that the pictures I’ve found scourging the internet don’t do it justice. Luckily, it doesn’t look damaged anywhere so it’s safe to say that my Converse didn’t destroy them.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, Carly. You can tell Mom about it and she’ll understand.” The hairs on my arm stand up as I listen to the soothing voice that I’ve come to know too well. After all, the owner of the voice has been living in the house behind me for the past two months.
“I can’t, Carson,” an unfamiliar voice cries. “You know how mad she’ll be when she finds out.”
“Let’s just get you some water, okay? Sober you up a little and then we’ll talk more about it.”
“Okay.”
I push myself off the refrigerator and fiddle with the ring, pretending that I didn’t just listen to his uber-short conversation. It’s not my business, after all.
“Diana?”Mierda.
Maybe I can pretend that I didn't hear him. No, that won’t work because I’m terrible at acting. I can try.
“I know you heard me.”
I make a mental note to never audition for any future movies before slowly turning around to find his blue eyes onme. Carson’s not alone either—he’s holding up a girl with very similar features as him and lighter hair. A very drunk, girl version of him.
