SÁBADO
7:14 PM

Reid Harlow

"This is child neglect." I scowl, throwing one of the rocks decorated at the floor of the flagstone patio. I sat at the edge of the steps of the raised deck, fighting a gust of wind blowing against my skin and creating an involuntary shiver. It made me more pissed off. "I'm about to fucking call the CPS on Nini and Sebastian."

"Don't you dare." Claudia threatens from the roundstone bench circling the firepit. She's attempting to create a heat source. The problem with outdoor gas fires is: it needs a lighter to act as a catalyst to activate the first flame. Since her loving parents locked us outside the house without a warning, she didn't have a chance to grab one.

But I had mine.

I just didn't want to help her.

"Look at it from this side, Claudia." I push myself off the stairs, outstretching my arms to showcase our surroundings. "It's nighttime. We're trapped outside in the middle of winter. It's going to get colder, we're going to fucking freeze, and all you fucking do is sit there and defend them." I pause, turning around to glance back at the backdoor and the kitchen light that's still on. "Do you fucking hear me?!"

"Shut up, Harlow. You're going to piss the neighbors off." Presley said, standing up from the loveseat of the patio chair. He stops before exiting from underneath the pavilion, crossing his arms and leaning against the hybrid wooden-cobblestone post. "You act like they didn't leave us blankets, pillows and sleeping bags."

"That's not any better." I snap, shifting my gaze to my foster brother. The one person I liked, to an extent. If the whole situation with Dahlia didn't happen, I would've considered keeping in contact with him after I leave. Now, every time I look at him, he just pisses me off.

For being surface-level with me.

For not showing me who he really is.

For wanting Dahlia.

"I wish the fucking glass had hit you." I sneer, turning away from him and heading towards the adirondack chair where Nini dropped off the blankets and pillows. Maybe I could find something in this pile, something that could get me out of this god-awful situation.

I hear footsteps following me, and before long, a hand clamps itself on my shoulder. "Harlow..."

"Don't fucking touch me!" I roar, shoving Presley off of me like he was a disease. I hated myself for that, as Presley stumbles back a couple of steps. His eyes widened, like he couldn't believe what just happened—but at the same time, he understood.

Stop it.

Stop it.

Fucking react!

"Harlow..." Presley continues delicately, as he offers out both his hands in surrender. His open palms face me, his eyes caring and wide. I could see the outline of his jaw tightens for a split second before relaxing. "I'm not...I'm not the enemy here."

I clench my jaw, not saying anything. I knew I had more buried than just Presley and Dahlia, and Presley not reacting to me. I just didn't want to admit it.

They say silence is worth a thousand words.

"Don't start a fight in the middle of the night," Claudia warns from the firepit, and I spare a glance in her direction. She covers her body in a blanket, trying to pop the charcoals on the firepit to start a fire. "We're already out here, the least we could do is fucking get along."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Harlow," Presley snaps, his tone lace with slight agitation. I met his brown gaze once more and his expression sharpens. This time, little seeps of emotions outline the shape of his face, curved with the need to remain in control. Presley Young has a gift at concealing what he truly feels. "You're not upset with her, you're upset with me. Don't take it out on her."

And it's true.

I'm not upset with Claudia.

I'm not upset with Presley.

I might not even be upset of the idea of Presley and Dahlia together—no fuck that, I definitely am.

It's just—there's more than that. It's more than emotions stemming from a simple situation, or a small occurrence. It's not just because I'm jealous of them or I don't like the thought of them together. It is. But, there's more than what meets the eyes.

I want an excuse.

I need an excuse.

To protect myself.

"I fucking hate all of you!" I scream, the words flying bitter from my tongue. It felt vague and fake, something I'm not used to. When I scream, my lies feel more palpable. I just need a reaction. "I hate this family for fucking putting us outside, I hate Claudia for always trying to butt into my problems, I hate Nini and Sebastian for always trying to include me in shit when I want to be left alone and I hate you—" I point to Presley, "...for liking Dahlia."

My chest constricts and my hands pull into fists. I brought my hands to my face, and I could feel the slight wetness on my eyes. I knew tears were welling, but I couldn't show them that.

It wasn't that I hate this family, it's because I could possibly love it.

I like Saturdays football games, and I like having Friday dinners with them. I like being in the loop about Ariah's dance recitals and I like helping Nico sneak a couple more lumpias. I like the fact that Claudia is caring enough to fucking help me when all I've been is an asshole to her—and I like having Presley in my life, because without him, I couldn't have helped Dahlia.

I just don't want to let them in.

"Wait..." Claudia begins, her voice low and soft. "Presley likes Dahlia?"

"Wait, what?" Presley prompts, his tone taken back by those words. My fists tightens in retaliation and they continue to cover my face. "No! No, I don't! I don't like her."

I draw in a shaky breath, because I didn't want my emotions to seep through the message. My jaw clenched down, my fists falling to my side. I look away from all of them. "Then why the fuck do you need her number?"

"Because I wanted her in my contacts!" Presley quickly told, "Claudia didn't have her number and she's been trying to get into contact with Dahlia. I thought it would be a smart idea to get her number at the dinner so if anything ever happens to her, she could call us or we could get into contact with her."

I remain quiet. I wanted to add that I had her number, and they could've easily gotten the number from me—but there was a good chance, I would've never given it to them. They probably thought of that beforehand.

"So, this is why Harlow threw the glass at you? Because he's jealous of you and Dahlia?"

"I'm not fucking jealous," I snap, meeting my gaze to Claudia. She adjusts the blanket around her body, the soft fabric ruffling the top of her hair. "And that's not the only fucking reason."

"Then what was the reason?" Presley prompts beside me, taking a step forward as he comes into my peripheral vision. "Why the hell was my head target practice?"

"Because you wouldn't react!" I declare bitterly, throwing my arms out. "None of you ever react when I do anything to piss you off. I know I'm an asshole, and I know I made you pissed off at one point or another—but none of you ever react! You're always so surface-level with me!"

"Because we're trying to welcome you, you dumbass!" Claudia throws out one hand from under the blanket, her face pulled to a look of annoyance. She since abandoned the stick she had when she poked the charcoal. "It's a defensive mechanism for newcomers—such as yourself—to want to rifle an reaction from us. It gives you an excuse, any excuse to not trust us. We knew that because all of us have been there, so we're trying to be considerate. Have you thought of that?"

I have, and I knew I wanted a reaction from them because I want a solid reason not to trust them. It worked better that way, to keep to myself alone and to remain isolated. It was safe, and it was reasonable.

But it was also fucking lonely.

"He's blanking out," Presley teases, pointing at me as he takes a seat beside Claudia. He jabs an elbow at her. "Look, you broke him."

"Fuck off." I flip him off, and he laughs at me. I stood there, unsure what to do next and where to go.

All my life, since the day my brother left me, I was sure I wasn't going to let anyone in again. I shouldn't render myself vulnerable to people, and allow people to be the supplement of my happiness. I wanted to be alone.

But then, I met this family. I met Sebastian and Nini, I met Ariah and Nico, I met Claudia and Presley. I met Dahlia.

I don't have a plan after that.

I don't know my future. I don't know where the fuck I'm going to go. I don't even know if I'm going to stay. It's a whirlwind of possibilities at this point.

Because I don't know who these people will be to me when I turn eighteen, and I don't know if I'll ever change my mindset about letting people in.

But I want to be happy.

And I want to be given a chance.

Could this be it?

The wind cracks against the atmosphere and I drag my feet over to the firepit, pocketing my unclenched fists. I take the seat beside Claudia—because fuck if I'm going to lie that I'm still not harboring an inch of jealousy towards Presley right now—and I pull out the lighter.

I throw it in Claudia's lap and she looks down at the red lighter, her eyes widen. She turns to me, her body encapsulated by a thick blanket and she punches my arm.

Fuck.

"You asshole!" She said, but this time, it was underline with a joking tone. She leans over and turns on the gas, flickering the lighter until it's captured within the gas and creates a fire. The fire spreads across the burnt charcoal and Claudia leans back, throwing the lighter back into my hand.

Presley laughs, clapping his hands together and Claudia hits him in the back of the head. They talk in indistinguishable whispers and I look down at the lighter in my hand, a little hot from the recent use.

Maybe.