And that’s when I realize it. I’m pissed off at the Banks. Furious, even. What good did calling that number do anyone? Tess can’t get back all those years with her lost child; the Banks can’t regain the happy high school years with me they were planning on. Basically, it’s just a huge clusterfuck. Even if it was the ‘right thing’ to do, that doesn’t make me any less angry.
I swallow hard and take a sip of my drink.
“Why would Maxx think that?” I finally ask, when I realize that my sister’s going to draw this out as long as she possibly can. She grins at me, sitting up and adjusting her Life is Better in Oregon hoodie. While I’m frothing at the mouth to get home, Maxie is a full convert. She wants to stay in the Pacific Northwest for at least a few years after graduation.
“See, I knew you couldn’t resist.” She leans in toward me conspiratorially, lowering her voice like we’re still in a small town and everyone knows everyone. “He says it’s because Parrish never talks about girls—never. But yet, he can’t seem to stop talking about you.”
I can already see where this is going.
“He bitches about me to his friends you mean?” I clarify and once again, Maxine waves her hand dismissively.
“Did I say that? You inferred it. Doesn’t make it true.” Maxine sips her drink loudly and then pauses as the doors to the café open once again and she gets caught staring at yet another lovey-dovey couple. I start to turn around to confirm the source of her sudden awe.
“Just because Parrish talks about me all the time doesn’t mean he wants to shove his tongue down my throat again—” I stop talking. One, because I said the word ‘again’ and I haven’t even told Maxie about the last time my stepbrother kissed me. Also, because both Parrish and Chasm are standing right there, staring at me.
“Whoever said I didn’t want to shove my tongue down your throat again? You never asked.” Parrish deadpans the entire delivery, and to be fair, I have to give him credit for that. In reality, I’m sure I’ve just ticked him off all over again; his hands are clenched into fists on either side of his body.
For his part, Chasm just tucks his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, affecting a casual slouch and a level of disdain I’d only have ever expected from Parrish himself. He is mad at me, isn’t he? And more specifically, he’s mad at me because of Parrish. That just has to be it.
“Parrish,” I begin, rising quickly from my chair at the same moment as Maxine. “Kwang-seon.” He gives me a sharp look and a brow raise in response. “This is my sister, Maxine.” I hold out my hand to indicate her and lift my chin proudly. If either of them try to ruin this moment for me, I swear to fuck, I will do worse than curb stomp their avatars online. “Would you like to join us for coffee?”
There’s a long hesitation there before the boys look at each other, exchanging one of those silent best friend messages that make me miss Sally and Nevaeh all over again, but vastly appreciate the friends I’m making in Danyella, Lumen, and even Delphine.
“Why not?” Chasm replies finally, turning back and giving me a tight smile. “I’ll order us coffee; the three of you can chat.” He saunters off as I resist the urge to flip him off, settling back into my seat as Parrish takes the bench closest to the window, situating himself directly between me and my sister.
And then he just fucking stares at me.
“Why are you here?” is what pops out of my mouth next. Oops. Maxine gives me her you’re being a rude dick, be nice! look. I pretend not to see it. “Don’t tell me you just happened to pop into downtown Seattle for coffee and coincidentally chose this exact place?”
Parrish sits up straight and then flicks a quick look my sister’s way.
“Of course it wasn’t coincidental: Chasm knew you’d be here so he wanted to come.” Parrish crosses his arms over his chest. “He has a crush on Mia.” My sister blinks several times at that, her gaze shifting over to study Chasm’s back before falling on Parrish again.
“Her name is Dakota,” she says firmly, in a tone I well recognize. Parrish is this close to getting his ass handed to him. “And you’re Parrish, the stepbrother who’s in love with her.”
Parrish laughs at that, this loud, sharp sound that reminds me that under that foppish rich boy disguise, there’s a spoiled rotten brat crouching.
“In love with her? I can barely stand to be in the same room as her.” He turns a much less amused expression my way. “So this is her, your pretend big sister? Does she know you stole a dead baby’s name?”
