I fidget nervously with the cutlery laid out in front of me. Adjusting the silver butter knife so that it's perfectly in line with its fellow fork and spoon on the neatly folded, white cloth napkin. There is a quiet bustle to Pearl Street right now, families milling about as they arrive at their brunch reservations or step into one of the many eclectic shops littered up and down the walking mall.

The late August sun is hot, beating down on me despite the small tree providing a few spots of shade over the table I'm currently sitting at on the patio of Snooze, waiting for my mother to join me for our own family brunch.

Well, it's not quite a full family brunch because my younger siblings, stepfather, and Ryder will not be joining us, but still. Ryder will be back though in the next couple of days to move into the house he'd decided to rent with his friends this year before the school year starts. It feels strange, that amongst the summer haze, the weeks have flown by, and now we're nearly two weeks from the start of a new academic year.

So, here I am, waiting for my mother to arrive for our yearly discussion of my plans for the future. We'd started this before my freshman year of college and continued as my mother's travels for her law firm often brought her to Boulder around this time.

Each year we'd check-in, make sure I'm still on track and would update my plan to prepare for law school applications. Of course, this isn't the only time my mother checks-in on my plans, in fact it's mostly all we talk about when she does call or when I'm home for the holidays. But this a specific time, designated to give me clear, definable goals for the upcoming school year.

I tap at my phone screen, the time 11:07 blinking back at me and sigh.

It's just like my mother to run late.

Our reservation was for 10:45, and I am having to put the waitress off, insisting my mother is on her way. But I'd caved a few minutes ago, agreeing to order an iced coffee while I wait.

The past weeks had passed by in a bleary heat weave, the sun becoming too bright and burning at this elevation to spend too much time outside as my friends and I transitioned into spending more of our time indoors. We watched movies, smoked and did art, and on days when the heat wasn't too sweltering, took trips to the pool to cool off before the usual 3 pm thunderstorms hit. It's the time of summer when things are quieter, both because the temperature makes people sleepy and because the realization starts to hit that summer is almost over.

And with the end of summer comes the wakeup call that our group is entering our senior year, for some, and junior year, in my case. A call that tells us it's time to get to business, to start taking our life plans and careers more seriously, but even now with the knowledge of the conversation with my mother ahead, I still struggle with answering that call.

Just then I hear the familiar click of heels on pavement and look up to see my mother strolling through the patio gates. Ever the arrogant, self-assured woman that she is, she marches right past the hostess without a word, the poor girls hand raised to help her, but my mother doesn't pay her any notice. Her impossibly tall black stilettos are matched to her black pant suit and leather Gucci purse.

Her hair is pin straight as per usual, the dark strands coming to rest just above shoulder length as a pair of excessively large sunglasses remain perched on her small nose. I note her red lipstick too, her trademark looks not having changed once in the entire lifetime that I've known her. She doesn't smile as she approaches, her expression serious and poised as she reaches me.

"Darling," she greets me crisply, and I stand awkwardly for her to lean down, pressing a kiss to either side of my cheeks before moving around the table to take her seat. I sit back down as well, smiling gratefully at the waitress who has just arrived to set my iced coffee on the table in front of us.

"Thank you," I say to her, and she nods.

"Is there anything I can get started for you?" She turns her attention to my mom now, who raises her dark eyebrows above the rims of her sunglasses as she turns towards the waitress. "A coffee? Maybe some orange juice?"

"Yes," my mother replies, her tone cold and firm. "I'd like a mug of warm water–not burning hot please, or I will send it back–with three lemon wedges on the side."

"Of course," the waitress nods, scribbling down the specifics of my mother's order on her notepad. "I'll get that right out for you and then I'll be back to take your orders once you've both had a chance to review our menu."

The waitress ducks away then, stepping back into the bustling restaurant as my mother slides her sunglasses off, placing them in a case before sliding the case into her bag, which she then sets at her feet.

"How's your trip been?" I ask then, and my mother glances up to me from the menu, green eyes that mirror my own narrowed as she gives me a tight-lipped smile.

"Productive." She says briefly. "And I hope our meeting today will be productive as well seeing as you were meant to be planning out your LSAT prep this summer."

I frown, I had been.

Most likely not to my mother's standards, but I had been meeting with my pre-law advisor every month and had all the resources I needed to start getting ready to take the test. I already have a list of law schools, a list my mother and I had been curating since my senior year of high school. At the top of that list for her is Stanford and UCLA. For me, it's Sturm College of Law at Denver University or the Law School here at CU. But that's aiming a bit too low for her tastes.

"Yes," I say, taking a sip of my iced coffee. "I'm meeting with an LSAT tutor in a couple weeks once the school year starts."

"And you're prepared to take on your student assistant position with the firm at CU, correct?" Her question makes me want to scoff, the way she asks me like I'm a fellow employee or partner at her firm.

"Yes." I reply with the same cool tone and even facial expression.

I know I've inherited my ability to disconnect myself from my emotions from my mother. It's so easy for her, and so I learned how to make it easy for me too. In her eyes, a woman, especially in her career, could never be too careful. Power will always be more important to her than anything else. Power over herself and her emotions, power over her colleagues, power over me and my siblings.

"Very good," she says, glancing up to our waitress as she returns with my mother's hot lemon water. Then she takes our orders, and I make sure to be careful, knowing that if I order the Strawberry Cheesecake pancake stack, despite how delicious it sounded, I'd never hear the end of how that won't be good for keeping my figure. Instead, I settle for the veggie scramble, opting out the side of hash browns for a cup of fruit. My mother orders steel cut oats with fresh berries and a black coffee.

"Now," my mother begins again as she sips at her warm water after squeezing the lemon wedges into the steaming mug. "Have you given any more thought to your preferred area of study for law school? It could be useful to explore these interests while you're still in undergrad."

I glance down, taking another sip of my coffee before I set the glass back by at my place setting, my hand remains wrapped around the cool glass. It's then my eyes train on the gold bracelet Wyatt had given me for my birthday, it glints in the sunlight filtering between the leaves above us.

Something does a tumble inside me then as I think of him.

It's funny, I try not to think about Wyatt because I don't want to feel that feeling that settles into my gut every time, I remember we haven't seen each other since the morning after the fourth of July. It's been almost two months now, and I miss him. And yet, as much as I don't want to be reminded of him, I still wear this bracelet. In fact, I haven't taken it off since he gave it to me in June.

We didn't intend to stay away from each other. At least, I don't think we did.

It just kind of happened.

As much as that night and the morning after meant something to both of us, we both seemed to share the same silent understanding that we'd gone too far. Now, no matter what, I'm keeping a secret from the only family member who ever actually tried to understand me. And I'm jeopardizing a friendship that Wyatt needs in his life. It makes me feel selfish and guilty if I think about it too hard, so I don't.

So, now we're here, weeks having gone by with radio silence from both of us and it's almost numbing. I know Wyatt still hangs out with Dallas and Lukas, but I avoid the house when I know they'll be there. River notices, of course, but she doesn't push me. Unlike the last time we talked, I think she knows that whatever it is I'm trying not to feel, would get the upper hand if I say it outloud.

"Aurora," my mother's stern tone shakes me out of my thoughts. "Did you hear my question? You seem distracted today, and that's not conducive to the productivity I need from you. I took time out of my very busy schedule for this."

"I know mom," I bite back, whipping my gaze back up to hers, both of our eyes narrowed. "Sorry, but we've also discussed this. You know I want to be involved in criminal justice reform."

"Yes, but have you given any more thought to corporate law? There's a lot more money in that career as a lawyer," she presses onward. "You could start corporate and move to criminal justice reform."

"But didn't you try to start with corporate?" I counter. "I should get to choose my own area of study, mom."

"I agree with you," she nods, taking another sip of her warm lemon water. "But I also want to make sure you're choosing something strategic. I don't want any daughter of mine to ever end up relying on a man for support. You will support yourself."

I bite back a reply about her relationship with my stepfather. They do love each other, that much has always been clear to me and my siblings. But it's not the kind of love you see in movies or on TV. Maybe that's because that sort of love has been tailored by a very specific and effective Hollywood algorithm. Either way, I've always seen their relationship as something my mother very much relies on. Despite her outward attitudes, which would lead you to believe otherwise.

Now I wonder if it was her relationship with my birth father that made her put up so many walls, that makes her hide that part of her life like a lioness guarding her cubs.

"I do," I say firmly, though that's only partially true. I still rely on her support, her financial support and connections to be specific, pretty heavily. But in terms of my emotional, physical and mental needs, I take care of that all by myself.

Always have and always will.

Even if my mother's approach is cold, and a bit emotionless. She is strong, she's taught me how to be strong. And I'll always be grateful for that. Maybe bitter sometimes because I worry I don't know how to feel properly, but still, mostly grateful.

The waitress returns with our food then, placing two warm plates in front of either of us respectively. I pick up my fork, prepared to dig into the veggie scramble which smells amazing but suddenly find I have little to no appetite.

Maybe it's the iced coffee that's making my stomach hurt.

But my mother's next question sparks thoughts that tell me it's not just the coffee.

"So," she sighs, offering me a gentle smile as she takes a bite of her oatmeal. "Are you dating at all? I know you were seeing that one boy at the end of the school year, what was his name? Perry?"

"Harry," I correct, nodding. She only knows about him because he came with me to a pre-law function for the academic fraternity I'm a part of—Phi Alpha Delta. My mother and stepfather were there, and I'd been unable to avoid introducing them, even if he and I called it quits just one week later.

My mom also doesn't know about Chad, the part he played in that, or the fact that I'd been dating both guys at the same time. That would be too much for her conservative sensibilities.

"How is Harry?" she asks, and I shrug.

"I don't know," I admit. "We stopped talking at the end of the school year."

"Oh," she nods, eyebrows raising on her forehead. "Well, he seemed nice but not very driven. I can't say I'm upset to hear that you two aren't talking anymore."

"Yeah," I manage a small smile, taking a bite of the scramble despite the knots in my stomach still. "His passions mainly had to do with his frat."

"Good to move on then," she says decidedly, taking another few bites of oatmeal before clearing her throat. She wipes primely at the corners of her mouth with her napkin before taking a long sip of her black coffee. "Are you seeing anyone new then?"

I blink, my thoughts suddenly filled with Wyatt again as a strange sensation washes over me. I lift my water glass shakily, taking a long drink before setting it down again. I wouldn't call what happened between Wyatt and I this summer dating, in fact, I have no idea what to call it exactly. But I know it's not nothing.

Part of me wants to laugh, thinking of how my mother would react if I was startlingly honest at this moment. And said something along the lines of:

Yes, mom! I'm not really dating, but you know Ryder's best friend and our neighbor, Wyatt? The guy who is basically an honorary family member? Yeah, well the last time I was with him we almost had sex and I haven't been able to face him since because of the mind fuck whirlwind of emotions he makes me feel. Stuff you've always told me not to feel.

That wouldn't be productive though–to use her word–so instead I opt for something else.

"I went on a date with my friend Bryant at the beginning of the summer." I offer. "Though, I think we are better as friends, so I haven't really seen him or anyone else since."

"I take it you've been focused on yourself then. On your career?" She asks and I nod.

If it's easier for her to see it that way, then yes. Sure. Let's call it focused on my career instead of getting distracted by the one guy I was never supposed to look at as more than a friend.

"This is good," she continues, nodding at me as she takes another sip of coffee. "You're so young, you still have plenty of time to explore the possibility of a relationship. Why jeopardize your future now for some twenty-something young man who has no direction in life?"

"But I've never had a boyfriend," I mumble.

"No matter," she insists. "Any boyfriend you could have in college would get in the way of your priorities right now. Think about it, you're about to get into the serious business of planning your future, now is not the time to be thinking about a boy who, quite honestly Aurora, is not thinking about you."

"I know," I give in, not wanting to argue over how relationships are a healthy and necessary part of life. I know she is right in some sense, and part of me stings to think about how Wyatt has probably already found some other girl who excites him. It's been long enough, and besides, I've always been a little kid to him.

Not now, not recently obviously, but I wonder if the sentiment is still there. Him seeing me as the small, needy little girl who used to run after him and Ryder, desperate to keep up.

~

Brunch ends awkwardly, my mother waving me off as she heads back to her law conference without so much as a hug. Rather she tells me to stay sharp and keep her updated on my internship that starts in a couple weeks. Then I walk back to my house from Pearl Street, a to-go box filled with my uneaten scramble clutched in one hand, my purse in the other.

The scene in my house is startling when I enter it, my friends talking and laughing loudly in the kitchen as I shut the door and lock it behind me. I spot Dallas' friend, Patty, standing in the kitchen too, leaning against the island while he, Dallas and Lukas joke with Maddie and River.

"Rory!" Maddie cheers when she sees me, and I smile.

"What's up guys?" I ask, pausing on the outskirts of the kitchen.

"We were thinking about going to the creek in a bit," Lukas offers, and River nods. I shrug, moving to the fridge where I set my leftovers down before turning back to everyone else.

"Sounds good," I say, moving around the kitchen island to River and Maddie, Maddie slings her arms over my shoulders, hugging me gently and then resting her chin on my shoulder as she stands behind me.

"How was brunch?" River asks and I sigh.

"More of the same," I offer, rolling my eyes. "My mother was all business, as usual."

"Your mom is a MILF though," Dallas adds, and I gape at him.

"Please stop," I retort, as everyone around me laughs. "Don't be gross."

"It's not a bad thing," Patty interjects then, winking at me. "Means you'll be a MILF one day babe."

"Patty," Maddie giggles and he grins ruefully, his gaze passing over me again as I take my own turn to study him. His head is covered in a mop of unruly sandy colored curls, dark eyes raking up my body as I focus in on the thickness of his eyebrows.

"What?" He asks, clearly just as bold as he'd been on the night I met him. "Am I not allowed to flirt?"

"You're allowed to flirt," I interject. "As long as you keep your hands to yourself."

His complexion pales slightly as he closes his mouth and frowns. Surely, he remembers as well as I do that his advances were not well received the last time. He strikes me as a self-proclaimed 'nice guy'. This is a brand of boy that Savannah and I have defined all too well at this point. Both of us can spot them from a mile away.

The kind of guy who seems well meaning enough but ruins it for himself by constantly commenting on how "nice guys finish last" and that women have all the power over men because of their bodies. The dude who will ask you out and then go into a rage when you respectfully decline, as though you had an obligation to fulfill. That you owed him a date–and more likely, a blow job–because he had the decency to treat you with basic human respect.

After the obvious tension between Patty and I mount in the kitchen, Maddie makes quick work of changing the subject to packing a lunch bag with snacks before the group disperses to change into swimsuits.

I put on a baby blue one piece that's cut high on the sides and dips down low on my chest despite still covering a good amount of skin. Then I head down to the kitchen again to fill my water bottle, though I have to manage my disappointment when I find that Patty is still there, now seated at our kitchen table.

"Hey," he looks up from his phone as I enter, offering me a small smile that I ignore as I move to the kitchen sink and fill my empty water bottle.

Once it's full, I turn, taking a slow sip before screwing the cap back on.

"Look," he tries again, standing slowly but still keeping a respectful distance from me as he