Oh. That thought never crossed my mind. Maybe it should have. “I understand.”
“Thank you. If things were different….” His words hang in the air as he rolls back over. I know how that sentence ends and a small part of me wishes I would have asked him to be here with me for real.
“Hi, Big Sis.” Piper’s voice scares the shit out of me and I fall off the bed.
It takes me a few moments to remember Tristan was lying on the floor beneath me. I scramble backwards and realize he isn’t there. How long has he been up?
“Don’t worry about yourboyfriend. He’s in the kitchen with Mom and Dad, having coffee.”
Oh, thank God. He didn’t run for the hills. Not that he could since we came in my car. There are ways he could get back home if he wanted to. “Why are you in my bed? And being creepy?”
Her grin is unsettling, and dread forms in the pit of my stomach. “I have a better question. Why is your boyfriend sleeping on the floor? Unless, of course, he’s not really your boyfriend.”
Damn her, and how perceptive she is. But I can totally play this off. There are plenty of reasons. “Don’t be ridiculous. We are definitely dating.”
“That would be a good band name.” She cocks her head to the side. “But that doesn’t answer the question.”
“Why is my word not enough?”
“Because, Paula, this is weird behavior, even for you.” She sits up and crisscrosses her legs in front of her. “You’ve never really been one to flaunt your personal life in front of anyone. And just because you don’t talk to the big bad brother and parents, doesn’t mean you don’t talk to the rest of us. Me and Parker know something is up. You’ve never once mentioned Tristan to either of us.”
“Maybe if y’all would text me back, I would have told y’all.” She has to realize it’s a two-way street, whether she wants to or not.
“I feel like if you had a boyfriend, and wanted us more awesome siblings to know, you would have sent the first text. Don’t put the blame on us because you’re trying to hide something.”
I can’t let her keep thinking this thing is fake. While I don’t think she would intentionally spill the beans, it would slip out. It always does.
“Look, he slept on the floor because he didn’t want to be disrespectful to Mom and Dad. He’s old-fashioned like that.”
There. A totally plausible reason he would be sleeping on the floor. I only hope she buys it.
She eyes me wearily, but seems to accept that answer. “I’ll be watching the two of you. Parker, too.”
I grab Tristan’s pillow and throw it at her, missing her completely. “You sound like a villain.”
Smirking, she grabs the pillow and chunks back at me. It hits me in the face despite turning away. She’s like a freaking magician.
“I never claimed to be anything but one.” She climbs off the bed and heads toward the door. “Mom is cooking soon. If you want to get to your boy toy before our brother’s do, I’d get in there now.”
‘Ugh, fine. I’m coming.”
As soon as she closes the door behind her. I get off the floor. My legs have goosebumps and I don’t understand how Tristan slept comfortably down here. Hopefully I can talk some sense into him tonight.
I grab his blankets off the floor and toss them on the bed before folding them. I don’t want Mom coming in here and finding the mess on the floor. That’s not something she would get too mad about. But I don’t want to answer any questions she might have. Piper and her are a lot alike in that respect. They won’t let anything go if they don’t like the answer.
I grab an oversized sweatshirt I threw on the dresser last night and slip it over my head. It completely covers my shorts. Maybe I should put on some leggings instead. Nope. I’m not going to do it. Mom and Dad are used to seeing me like this after bed. If I’m going to prove that me and Tristan are a thing to my youngest siblings, they have to see I’m comfortable being in front of him in every capacity.
Okay, I can totally do this. I may not have any theatreexperience, but I’ve always been a fake it until you make it type of girl. It’s how I landed the job at Whoopsie Daisy. I didn’t know anything about flowers until my first day there. Now, I’m learning how to make arrangements.
Cracking open the bedroom door, I listen for any noise outside of the voices drifting from the kitchen. It seems like my other siblings are still asleep. Thank God for small mercies.
My steps are soft as I slip out of the room and gently close the door behind me. As much as I’d like my presence known, I want to know what Tristan and my parents are talking about. Nosiness seems to be a trait all of us Summers’ kids seem to have.
“Have you tried our wine?” Dad asks. He’s loud by nature and it’s a shock nobody else has woken up from his booming voice. “I have some here. You should try it.”
“Paul.” Mom admonishes him. “It’s way too early for wine. The poor boy hasn’t even eaten yet.”
“A little wine before breakfast is fine.” A bottle slides across the table before sliding back. Mom probably gave him one of her famous looks. “Maybe after dinner instead.”
