"What do I tell Delia?"

I blink at the text message from Kira. I was excited for a second when I saw the notification... and nervous, thinking she'd made up her mind and was finally giving me an answer. I did not expect this question.

Why is she asking me what she should tell my sister? Kira and Deli tell each other everything all the time, and I mean everything. One cannot pick her nose without telling the other one all the gory details. Sometimes I think it's Kira and Delia who are the twins.

"The truth," I reply, because to be honest, Delia and I also tell each other everything... well, almost. For some strange reason, she doesn't want me to tell her about the things I find up my nose... and other places... Besides, there are some things I really don't want her to know and things I know she wouldn't want to know about.

I drop my phone on my desk and tearing off my school shirt, I step into the bathroom, bundling it up and tossing it in the wash hamper. Seeing the scrapes covering my arms, I'm stressing about the state Kira must be in. Her skin is a lot softer than mine. As funny as it was lying on the ground with our legs up in the air, I'm really relieved that she wasn't seriously injured.

For the few seconds it took to fall off that boulder, I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach; I was really scared that the fall, though not far, would be rough enough to damage Kira severely.

I shove the memory of that sickening feeling aside and step into the shower, opening it full blast. It feels amazing, as always, and while the soothing water runs over my hot skin, a smile starts to tug at the corners of my mouth as my brain runs over all the memories of our outing today. I love being with that girl. I never know what she's going to say or do next, which is weird because, in some ways, I've always found Kira to be comfortingly predictable.

She is so cheeky!

When the shower starts to make me feel muggier than the summer heat, I shut the water off and dry myself with one of the towels hanging on the rail and walk into my bedroom to grab some clothes from my closet. I'm completely dressed by the time I realise that my curtains are not drawn, and I can see the girls in Kira's room. I don't think either of them noticed me. If she'd seen me, Kira would've been screaming at me by now and closed her curtains.

She might not believe me, but I don't try to freak her out with uninvited scenes of nudity. I genuinely seldom think about closing my curtains. Whenever they're drawn, I start to feel claustrophobic and anxious. I've not been able to sleep with the drapes or the door closed at any time in my life, and I'm not used to closing them at all. It's strange because I don't generally suffer from claustrophobia. When I was still in the bedroom downstairs, it didn't matter; my window faced a wall and a section of the back garden.

If I want to convince Kira that I am a civilized human being and not the cave dweller she thinks I am, I really need to get used to closing the curtains when I'm getting dressed. I'll never forget the first time I realised that my bedroom window is facing hers. I knew it, of course, but I somehow didn't know it. 

This used to be my aunt's room, and I never really came up here except when she needed a hand with something. Breeze is not really the hang-out-with-my-nephew kind of aunt. Yes, her name is Breeze; Grandma Fay had a thing for names related to nature, except when it came to my dad, he got his father's name. My dad's other sister, Aunt Misty, was my favourite aunt. I was just a kid when she died, but I still remember her funny stories and the games she used to play with Deli, my cousin and me. Nobody ever fully recovered from her death. I know it still haunts my father.

Breeze is a completely different story. She's only seven years older than I am, and my dad virtually raised her because Grandma Fay's health took a really bad turn when Aunt Misty passed away. In some ways, Breeze is more like an older sister to me. One who finds her younger brother barely tolerable. Long story short, I didn't spend much time in Breeze's room.

The evening of the day I moved up here, I came out of the shower wearing only a towel. A You Me At Six song was playing in my room, and it just got to the chorus where they pick up speed, singing about needing room to breathe, and I really related to that. I mean, this is a pretty small room, and I need the door and windows open even more than before to be able to breathe, but at the same time, I have my own bathroom, and I'm alone up here. This is my own space, my breathing room... and I was celebrating. 

https://youtu.be/IPtUV01R1RE

In one impressive move that would make the most professional stripper green with envy, I whipped the towel from around my waist and flung it through the air while I grabbed my underpants from my bed. I was about to pull it on when my celebratory performance was interrupted by the screech of a demon harpy somewhere outside my bedroom. Certain that we were under attack from the vampire babies in the Dracula movie I watched the previous night, I froze.

To my surprise and, to be honest, some serious disappointment, there were no blood-sucking babies flying around outside. Kira was storming her window and tackling her curtains to the ground. I just stood there watching her violent wrestling match with the floral material, wondering what the curtains did to inspire so much anger when I heard her yelling my name and something about hating me and windows and other stuff I really didn't follow and realised that I was somehow inspiring her anger... again.

It took me a while to figure out that it was my flying vampire baby that had her in such a freaked-out state. Laughing, I pulled on my underwear and continued my dance since there was a new song playing, but I hardly registered what it was; I just felt and lived the rhythm; the rest of me was fascinated by the weird things Kira was doing with blankets. She eventually built herself a tent on her bed, which was hilarious but also seemed like serious fun.

Now, while I'm standing at my window, grinning about fond memories, she rises from her bed, still talking to Delia sitting on it. Lifting her head, she sees me watching her, so I do the most logical thing I could possibly do. I mime to her to say yes by placing my fists in front of my mouth, flicking my fingers outwards, motioning that words are bursting out of my mouth, and then I put both hands up in thumbs-up signs, indicating yes. Say yes! It's pretty obvious, right?

Kira is just staring at me with no sign of comprehension, so I do it again and again, becoming a bit frustrated when she just keeps on tilting her head from side to side like a friggin' puppy trying to figure out what "roll-over" means. I'm about to hire a sign-writer aeroplane to get the message to her when I notice Delia starting to turn around, and before I can stop and ask myself what the hell I'm doing, I drop to the floor and roll under my bed.

Now that I'm lying here, looking up at the underside of my bed, I'm completely confused by what exactly is happening here now. Why am I hiding from Delia? It was a reflex, and I have no idea what triggered it. Delia knows about the plan, and she's probably telling Kicks that she knows about the plan. Well, if she's not, then hiding is probably wise, but... uhm... this is my bedroom... I'm allowed to be in here; it doesn't matter what direction their discussion is taking.

Maybe Kira's attitude about being seen with me has made me paranoid.

Well, I'm kinda glad I came down here for a visit; it's like being in a secret little world.  I can see my favourite Jedi Nights sleep shirt scrunched up against the wall, and an unopened packet of Cheetos apparently escaped from Barn yesterday. Score! The English textbook I've been missing for an embarrassingly long time is casually leaning up against a bed leg, shooting the breeze with a dried-out bread roll that found its way down here at some point in time... hell knows when.

The place is like a friggin' treasure trove!

Gathering my prizes, I crawl out from under my bed to dump them all on top of it, and when I look at the window again, Kira is still standing where she was before I went on my adventure to Wonderland. She sees me and suddenly shoves her hand out towards me, closing it into a fist and sticks her thumb into the air.

Is she saying yes? I think she's saying yes! She's saying yes, right?!

"Yes!" I pump a fist into the air, and Scamp, who snuck into my room while I was having a treasure hunt under my bed, decides to join in the celebration by biting my ankle with his sharp little teeth. Multi-tasking being happy, and shaking a tiny demon permanently attached to my skin off my foot is harder than the manual said it was going to be.

When I finally have the cat in my hands and can put my feet on the floor without having it mauled by a feral kitten with aspirations to be a mountain lion, Kira is not in her room any more. I grab my phone from my desk and text her.

"Yes? You'll be my girlfriend?" I send the message, hoping that she's not just messing with me or I'm misunderstanding. She might've just thought I was trying to teach her how to make a thumbs-up earlier and was showing me that she's got the trick down now.

"Yes."

One word, just one. Usually, Kira punishes me with wall-to-wall text, but there is just one word cheekily winking at me from the screen, and suddenly I cannot breathe, I cannot think, I cannot do anything! My heart is beating so fast it might malfunction and shoot from my chest and slap me in the face.

Kira said yes! 

I am now dating Kira Croft! I don't care what her reasons for saying yes might be; this is the first real chance I've had to show her that what we have is real and lasting and too precious to lose. Now for the hard part. Keeping her as my girlfriend.

Don't muck it up, Ethan Fletcher!

♂

Dad got called out to deal with an electricity issue at one of his construction sites, and it's only Mom, Deli and I having dinner at our kitchen table tonight. As always, the aircon is softly humming, and through the window, I can see the garden growing progressively darker. It is peaceful in here, but despite the fact that we almost always end up arguing, I don't like it when my father gets called out late in the day, especially on a Friday. The guy needs all the rest he can get.

He is probably relieved to be spared having dinner with me, though. I really try not to piss him off, but we tend to rub each other the wrong way, and lately, we're constantly arguing about next year, and he is scratching where it's not itching. I have my plans laid out perfectly; I don't know why he constantly wants to change them. I don't want to go to the university in Hummelton. I want to stay here, and when I graduate, I want to join his construction company the way we've been planning for years.

He clearly doesn't want me to join him anymore. It used to be all he could talk about, but now he's dead set against it. He says it would hold me back in life.

Bullshit!

Yeah, I know his business took a really bad hit when his partner, Howard Green, committed fraud and went to jail. Dad barely managed to stay clear of criminal charges himself, and he's been working his ass off to get FG Construction out of the dark. He is getting there, though, and I want to help him make the company great again.

Despite the familiar tension I feel at his absence, I cannot stop a stupid smile from constantly creeping onto my face, making me forget to be tense for a few seconds at a time. I'm enjoying the curry mom made, vaguely listening to her chatting with Delia about her upcoming visit with Simon's grandmother tomorrow after my rugby match against St Albany.

My mom is my favourite chef in the world and always gets the balance of spices just right to create the perfect curry flavour, just the way I like it. Kira is my second favourite chef. She learned everything she knows from my mom. The two of them enjoy creating masterpieces in the kitchen almost as much as I enjoy eating them.

"Mom, guess what Ethe did today," Delia says, snapping me out of my pensive mood and back to the present where she's sitting across from me, grinning her best let-me-torture-my-brother grin, so I kick her. She dodges, of course. She always does. I swear the girl can read my friggin' mind!

"Oh, no! Not again, Ethe!" Mom complains, and I give her a well-deserved what-the-hell look because... what the hell? "I'm never going to get the stains out this time..."

"What?" Delia and I enquire in unison, and Mom sighs as if the whole world is resting on her shoulders. She stares morosely at the flowers on the plastic table cover, and for a while, the only sound in the kitchen is the ticking coming from the yellow teapot-shaped clock against the wall. This conversation and my mother's attitude are making no sense to me. For starters, Deli never rats me out when I've done something... questionable, and two... huh?

"What stains, Mom?" I ask when it seems as though she's never going to speak again. I wonder if I did something I cannot remember or am being framed again.

"Last time you and the guys played paint cannon balls, I had to throw away your clothes," she finally says, looking at me with eyes that always startle me by how much they look like Deli's and mine. Hers and Deli's are bluer, though; mine have a bit of green in them. "Even if it is just water paint powder, it still stains unless you clean it carefully."

Oh! Right! A while back, the guys and I decided that water balloon fights were boring, so we poured powdered paint into small balloons and blew them up a bit to make them easier to pop, and then we went down to the beach and pelted each other with them. It was the special organic paint Lurch's mom makes. The woman loves everything organic, and if it doesn't exist, she creates it and sells it in her shop on Hydrogen Way. No, the irony is not lost on any of us.

We temporarily dyed the beach in a kaleidoscope of colours, which looked toxic and like a bio-hazard accident, but really wasn't and soon washed away.

Unfortunately, the combination of seawater and that powder wasn't kind to our clothes and as cool as it might sound to throw random colours at each other, the final results were not that awesome. If I'd taken off my school uniform and worn something old for the occasion, Mom would not be sitting in this cheerful yellow and red kitchen, being all depressed right now.

Hey, inspiration struck, and we acted... What I was wearing became secondary to the greatness we were about to achieve. I have priorities, after all.

Delia is giggling happily, leaving me to soothe my mother. I really don't want to tell her about Kicks and me... not yet... I first need to see where this is heading. I don't want my mom to be disappointed if Kira dumps me within a couple of hours and she loses all her hope of ever having her become her daughter-in-law. It's one of Mom's biggest wishes, and she doesn't even make a secret of it. She is always calling the girl her daughter-in-law, making Kira roll her eyes and very offensively ask my mom if she cannot just be her daughter without all the nastiness the in-law part implies.

"I didn't! I swear, my school clothes are 100% stain fr..." It suddenly occurs to me that I am lying. My school shirt is covered in marks after the fall and has some stains. I had to rub it with pre-soak and stick it in a tub earlier. "There's no paint on my school uniform, I promise."

"He asked Kiki to be his girlfriend," Delia jumps in when my mother just narrows her eyes at me, her loaded fork hovering near her lips. I can see the gears grinding in that active mind of hers.

"Again?" Mom asks, frowning now and lowering her fork. She seems baffled rather than surprised or excited. What does she mean by again? I've never actually asked the girl before; she would laugh me off the planet. Usually, I don't get further than telling her I love her...

"He used actual words this time," Delia adds to my mom's confusion. "And she said yes!"

My mom is not making flip-flops or cartwheels; she simply lifts her fork and empties it into her mouth, and while she chews, her face scrunched up in deep thought, Deli and I give each other surprised looks. We both expected a lot more enthusiasm than this.

"Is it like a re-affirming of your love or something?" Mom asks after swallowing her food.

"Huh?" Deli and I are getting really good at the synchronized speaking thing.

"She already said yes when you were in fourth grade. We had a lovely ceremony to celebrate and everything. Don't tell me you don't remember!" My mom is looking at me with a surprising amount of shock on her face.

It might be hard to believe, but this is not the weirdest conversation I've ever had with her. Sometimes I think she and Uncle Joe, Kira's dad, are two versions of the same person... at least as far as living in their own minds is concerned.

"Are you talking about the school play where they got married?" Delia laughs, shaking her head, and Mom is laughing now too. Honestly, I never know when the woman is just messing with me and when she's actually lost the plot... or both... and then people go around saying I take after her!

"Oh, but it wasn't just a play for you, Ethan, was it, my boy?" she says gently and, grinning, reaches out to grab my hand resting beside my plate. Looking at her, I'm grinning too, now.

My mind is going wild with memories of Kira in a tiny wedding dress. One of the teachers got married that year and had her niece and her groom's nephew dressed as a mini-bride and groom for the ceremony. Kira was the only girl in our year who could fit into the dress, and with her ridiculously long hair brushed down to her butt and a white veil stuck in her hair, she looked like one of the fairies in Deli's huge fairy festival puzzle she loved so much.

I wasn't really at the age where I noticed girls yet, but there was something about seeing Kira looking so delicate and achingly pretty that did things to my heart that couldn't be described as healthy. I liked the whole idea of being married and becoming a family. I didn't really understand all that kind of thing entails, but I knew that I wanted to grow up and marry nobody but Kira Croft.

I haven't changed my mind.

"No, Mom," I smile. "It wasn't just a play for me."

♂♀