It was his fault I was obsessed with daisies.He was the one who’d given me my first one when we were five, followed by every other one he could find in the park near his family’s apartment complex—the one his uncle Derrick bought for his aunt London after they got married.Afterward, London gutted the building, designated two floors for herself and two for each of her soul sisters, turning the other floors into a private gym, including one floor that was just a running track.Later, when Sixx got hard core into jiu-jitsu, she added on a dojo for him.Sixx was an only child, but his aunts took the old saying “it takes a village” seriously.Roanna may have been his biological mom, but London, Aubree, and Genesis showed up for him in every way a mom did too.
That first daisy he’d given me was still on my nightstand, the resin keeping it preserved as a paperweight.It sat beside a few other pictures of Sixx and me over the years that had been added to the one of us from Disneyland when were little.Including one of us from the day he kissed me for the first time.I’d put it in the homemade frame I’d created the one time I’d had a craft-themed birthday party.Sixx had picked a picture frame to paint, adding imperfect daisies along the border.We looked so young and innocent in that picture, my cheeks on fire, eyes glittering as I smiled at the camera and Sixx stared at me.
It had been a real kiss, the kind that made my heart speed up and the world slow down, not just a peck on the cheek or a press of his lips to my forehead.Abi had taken the picture earlier in the day, one of a hundred others she’d snapped of us out on the beach with Evan, Hayat, and Bentley after the crafts portion of the party was over.I’d snuck into her phone and forwarded the picture to myself then printed it out.
No one but Sixx and I knew we’d kissed that day.Every time I saw that photo, warmth spread through my belly, the memories of how perfect that first kiss had been replaying in my mind on autopilot.The kiss had been messy and intense, neither of us knowing what we were doing.So perfectly imperfect in all the best ways.
After a long, hot shower Saturday morning, I walked into my closet to get dressed and finally grabbed my phone that I’d hidden in my underwear drawer.I had more than two dozen texts from another unknown number, and I was thankful I’d had the forethought to hide my phone when I first got home from school on Friday.
Blocking and deleting everything without reading any of the messages—Out of sight, out of mind.If I pretend hard enough that it isn’t happening, it will eventually stop—I pulled on a pair of black sweats and another one of Sixx’s hoodies.This one was from his BJJ academy, with his name listed at the top, along with all his other teammates.It was old enough that it had Bentley’s name on there too.
For a while, he’d been into jiu-jitsu as well.He was good at it, but then again, he was a natural athlete.Every sport he’d ever attempted, he’d soaked up like a sponge and put his whole heart into it.His heart hadn’t been truly in jiu-jitsu, though.Mostly, he’d done it so he and Sixx could spend more time together.
Dressed for a day of doing nothing but catching up on all my homework, I made a quick trip to the kitchen for something to eat.Dad had his feet propped up on the couch as I passed, flipping from one sports channel to another.The door to Mom’s office, which served as a demo recording studio for all her work in progress, was shut.She never stopped writing music.
Kin St.Charles was known more for the music she wrote than what she personally performed.Which was hard for some people to believe because the woman was a badass rock star.She had every international award possible for a musician to win, including multiple Oscars for Best Original Song.
“You want to order pizza for dinner tonight?”Dad asked, muting the highlights of the Dodgers’ away game from the night before.I narrowed my eyes on him, taking in the bag of chips in his hand that he was munching on.He sank deeper into the couch, his blue eyes shifting around, sensing danger but unsure of what or why.“Or we could go out.I could go for a good taco.”
“I’m good with whatever.You decide.”My gaze shifted to the bag in his hands.I’d only gotten a single chip from the bag.Now nothing was left but crumbs.
All those yummy, salty chips.From the boy who had so lovingly brought them to me for no other reason than he knew it was time for my period and wanted to ensure I had all my favorite snacks.
“What’d I do?”Dad finally asked, licking his thumb and index finger clean of salt and oil.
“Those were mine,” I said simply, somewhat proud of myself when I didn’t stomp my foot.“Sixx brought them to me.And where is all my chocolate?”
“Your mom put all the other junk in the kitchen,” he said, tipping his head back so he could empty the chip crumbs directly into his mouth.
“Did you eat any of it?”I demanded, standing behind the couch, trying not to cry.They were only chips.I hadn’t even remembered them until I’d seen the bag in his hand.Now I was craving them, and I knew we didn’t have any in the pantry.
“Only a pack of the Gushers,” he said.I felt tears sting my eyes and heard him gulp.“Ah, fuck.I should have known when I saw that giant cup of Diet Coke last night.”
“Those were mine!”I choked out again, stomping into the kitchen.I grabbed all the things Sixx had brought me, putting them in a reusable grocery bag to take upstairs.Once I’d found every last item, I made myself a bowl of cereal.
Dad walked into the kitchen, his hands held up in surrender, his eyes shifting around the room as if he were mapping the quickest path of escape if things turned ugly.Glaring at him, I dashed a stupid tear from my cheek and slammed the refrigerator closed after replacing the milk.
“I’m making a grocery run, and I’ll get you more chips,” he attempted to soothe.“Maybe more of those?—”
“I don’t want those chips.I wanted the chips Sixx brought me.”Yes, I knew I sounded petulant and irrational.No, I didn’t care.Stupid periods.Freaking hormones.Annoying dads who didn’t pay attention.
Not to when I was about to start bleeding.
Not to when I was struggling.
Not to when I was scared.
I swallowed a sob, biting back all the angry words that wanted to spill out.It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t see what I was so desperately trying to hide.I knew that.I fucking knew.But how bad would it be if someone actually figured it out and I didn’t have to carry this weight on my own any longer?
Wiping my dripping nose on the sleeve of my hoodie, I pushed down all the emotions trying to flood out of me, locking down that voice in the back of my head that kept trying to warn me.That unknown caller hadn’t gotten tired of my nonresponses in weeks.Months.There was a higher chance that it wouldn’t stop than of them getting bored and leaving me alone like I thought they eventually would.
No, it was fine.They would stop.Once we left for the tour, I was going to pretend to lose my phone.I was going to throw it into the ocean and hope a shark ate the damned thing.I’d spend the entire summer without it, detoxing from all the screen time—and the constant dread that sat in my gut.When we got back, I’d get a new phone, and I’d ask my parents to get me a different number.Why?I’d figure out a plausible excuse by then.
By then, the unknown caller would have moved on, and they wouldn’t be able to text-bomb me without my number.
And if the unknown caller was Mr.Gaviria?If I had to see him again when school started back in the fall.If the cheer team had to travel with the basketball players and coaches for overnight away games or events…
I struggled to swallow the lump that filled my throat.It wasn’t just PMS emotions that were choking me.It was fear and that freaking voice in the back of my head that kept telling me that it was him.That I needed to stop burying my head, quit pretending I didn’t already know who my stalker was.
