Driving towards home, enjoying the wind on my arms and billowing inside my T-shirt, my thoughts, as always, return to Kira. Her smile, her laugh, the mischievous glint in her eyes when she's about to mess with me or steal my M&Ms.

I'm smiling like the love-sick dog I am when it suddenly hits me that I never got a response from her after letting her know that Wendy was hanging out with me at Burlap's house.

I waited for a few minutes, checking my phone often, but it never came, and I figured that she was probably outside, talking to the fish and frogs in their little fishpond. She's not attached to her phone and often leaves it in her room while she goes about her life.

I got pulled into the game and the social drama of my weirdo friends and forgot to check again. Now I'm feeling kind of nervous about it. Why didn't she respond? Did she read it? I never checked.

Was she upset?

My skin is crawling with nerve endings firing off sparks randomly, and the trickle of sweat running down my neck is becoming extremely uncomfortable. I can't stand this any longer, so I hurry to pull to the side of the road and stopping, I take my phone from my pocket.

It takes me three years and two months to navigate to the friggin' messaging app, constantly clicking on the wrong things. When my trembling fingers finally manage to get it open, I discover that Kira did reply about 10 minutes after I sent the message to her. I never heard or felt it come in, and when Uncle Joe's message arrived, I must've accidentally cleared her notification too.

I don't like what I'm seeing.

"OK?"

What does that mean? I can feel panic working its way up my throat, and I swallow it down. It's okay, I can fix this. I can fix it. I'm sure I can; I didn't do anything wrong. I pull off my helmet and press the dial button on my phone, anxiously waiting for Kira to answer, and the second I hear her voice in my ear, I jump right in.

"Are you angry?" I ask, and I'm answered by a couple of seconds of silence while Kira is moving things around on her end. What is she up to?

"No, not really, it's just a bit annoying and a little disappointing," she grunts, and it sounds like she's opening or closing plastic containers.

"It is?" I have no idea what to say now. I told Wendy that if Kira has issues with us hanging out together, I'd work it out with her, but now that I'm faced with that reality, I don't know how to deal with it. If it came down to a choice between being with Kira and my friendship with Wendy, I'd choose Kira every time. I love her, but I'd be pretty heartbroken just to cut Wendy off; she's been a good buddy and doesn't deserve it. "Well... uhm... I'm sorry... uhm... I swear I didn't do anything..."

"Well, I would hope not," she snorts. "You know you're not allowed to get up to any of your tricks."

"I wasn't getting up to anyth-."

"It's okay," Kira sighs, sounding resigned to what she apparently sees as an inevitable outcome. "It's their home; they should be able to do what they want."

"Huh?!" I have apparently taken an off-ramp and am now navigating a bizarre road I have no idea where it's leading; my wheels are crunching on gravel, and I have some bugs in my teeth. Been there and done that a thousand times, but usually, I'm on my bike when it happens. Riding it, not sitting on it talking on the phone with the girl of my dreams.

Nope, I'm still on the road leading home, sitting on my bike, parked under some trees. There are a couple of people walking their dogs, waving hello to me, and there are joggers and a few motorists too. I'm definitely not lost.

"It's nicer when they use the pretty pathways I laid out for them through the moss and over the bark, but sometimes they just like to use their own routes for carrying the food to their nest, and they should be allowed to do that. I'm not a dictator, after all."

I could be wrong, but I don't think Kira and I are in the same conversation at all... Sometimes, Kicks can get into the zone, and then she is just like her father, lost to the reality around her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I chuckle, imagining Kira crawling around in some hole again.

"My ants... why? What are you talking about?"

Ah! That makes so much more sense now. She is putting freshly dead insects in her ant farm and watching her ants take them to their nest. She did a pretty snazzy job creating her farm using an old aquarium. One section along the short side contains the nest, which she keeps covered and dark so that the ants build tunnels right up against the glass for pretty awesome peep shows. The rest of the glass tank contains moss, pieces of branches and small plants, all very nicely arranged with colourful fairy lights for ambience.

I don't understand Kira's fascination with ants, but it is kinda relaxing to watch them busily running around in there, picking up the insects she drops and carrying them along fake hills and through miniature forests to their nest. Personally, I would enjoy it more if they were fish.

"Why would I call to ask you if you're angry at your ants, Kicks?"

"Hmmm," she seems to be thinking it over now. "Yes, why would you?"

"I wouldn't!" I laugh, imagining her pushing out that cute bottom lip of hers, and now I want to run home and kiss her again. I'll never get over the fact that I finally got to do that, and it was so much better than I'd ever imagined it would be.

"What are we talking about then?" she sighs on the other end of the line, and I wonder if she also remembers the kiss and if she does, is she sorry that it happened, or does she want it to happen again?

"Wendy."

"I don't think she'll mess with my ants." 

I don't know what she's thinking about, but she is clearly miles away, not focussing on the topic of our conversation at all. Wendy only goes to Kira's house if hanging out at my place causes all of us to go over there for something. It happens. Not often, but it does. Jet, Lurch and I are banned from Kira's cosy hangout in their garage, where she keeps her ecosystems, lizards and ants. She often sits on the bean bags in there, listening to music and reading her books.

When she does allow me in there, I can only go as deep as just inside the door (there's a special bean bag there just for me), from where I'm permitted to sit and look but not touch anything. She says I scare her lizards. Well, I shouldn't call them her lizards. Kicks set up a couple of apartments for visitors, and her reptile facility functions like a motel. Sometimes they stay for a very long time before moving on.

"No... probably not..." I agree with her, not sure how to get back to her response to my earlier message.

"Okay..."

Great, this is going nowhere really fast, and this is not even a video call so that I could at least look at her face when we're both being quiet. I like looking at Kicks. Maybe I should hang up and just drive over there and have this conversation in person.

"You sent me an OK and a question mark..."

"Oh! That!" Kira exclaims, sounding like she's finally awake.

"Yeah, that. What did you mean?"

"After I got your message, I waited and waited, and then I thought you forgot to go on with your story, so I prompted you."

I can hear her moving around, opening and closing containers again, and it dawns on me that she is probably feeding some of the reptile boarders now. Thinking of meal worms suddenly has me close to gagging. I don't enjoy watching her feed the reptiles.

"What story?" I choke, swallowing and shake my head to clear away the queasiness. Well, at least I'm not thinking about kissing now.

"About Wendy and Burlap. You said you found Wendy at BT's and took her with you to Burlap's, and I was waiting for the rest."

"There was no rest. I was just letting you know that I was hanging out with Burlap, and there was a girl with us. I didn't want you to worry or get the wrong impression if you found out about it another way."

"That was sweet of you," she says, sounding touched by my consideration. "Thanks."

"You're welcome..." Okay, I'm relieved; she doesn't sound mad at all.

"So, there were girls there?"

"Yeah, Wendy."

"Oh! Was she sitting on your lap, and what's it again? Sharing one can using two straws, gazing into each other's eyes, moving closer, your lips touching now and then..."

"What the hell?!"

"I know, right? Dell and Simon said it's a thing, but it sounds dodgy to me." Yeah, I've been the unfortunate witness to my sister and her boyfriend doing exactly that.

"Wendy and I never even did that back when we still kissed each other occasionally," I laugh.

"Do you still... kiss each other occasionally?" Oh! I probably shouldn't have mentioned it, but it's no secret. I think Kicks saw us a few times. Perhaps I even wanted her to... show her what she was missing. She didn't care...

"No, not since we became friends."

"She friend-zoned you?"

"No, we friend-zoned each other."

"I'm sorry, Ethy; I hope she didn't break your heart." For crying in a bucket, she actually sounds sorry!

"She didn't! We became friends, and now we get to play games, hang out, and talk; and I get to dodge her nails when she gets mad at me. I have a girlfriend now, you know?!"

Seriously, does Kira even know what it means to be someone's girlfriend? She's not supposed to be sad that there's nothing romantic between Wendy and me! She's supposed to be glad.

"Okay, good. Just don't kiss her occasionally, sit on her lap or do the straw things with her," she says, sounding serious, but I really cannot tell what she's thinking. "You can sit on Jet's lap and share his can with two straws if you want."

"What?!"

"He'll be so freaked out and mad!" she giggles. "Make sure I'm there, though, I don't want to miss his reaction."

"Deli, is that you?" I ask suspiciously because how is this my sweet girlfriend, Kira on the other end of this call?

"No."

"Jet won't be freaked out or mad; he'll use the opportunity to freak me out and make me mad," I remind her since she's clearly forgotten what Jet can be like. "I'll totally do it with you, though, the one can, two straw thing."

"No!"

That was insultingly decisive!

"Come on, it will be nice."

"No!"

"Kicks..."

"I'm gonna go now, crazy person."

"I'm going to edit the to-do list part of the spreadsheet," I inform her, enjoying making her squirm. "It's totally going on there."

"No, it's not," Kira huffs, and I swear I can hear that mouth of hers doing that cheeky pouty thing it does, and my cheeks are going all warm again. Yup, I'm back to thinking about kissing now.

"Kicks, does the idea of Wendy sitting on my lap and sharing my drink with two straws bother you?" I ask, trying to figure out just how into her role as my girlfriend she really is. She's being pretty sanguine about me hanging out with Wendy.

"What do you want me to answer?" she asks, sounding uncertain and a little nervous now. She's not writing an exam here! There's no right or wrong answer. I want to know what she thinks and feels about it.

"No, that is not how this works. You must think and answer as my girlfriend, where I'm the guy you're dating because you really like me and you-."

"I will slap her off your lap and feed you the can up your nose with both straws still sticking out of it!"

"What?!" I laugh, shocked by this sudden turn to violence. Kira is not a violent person... except when she's beating me up with stuff.

"Uhm... I mean... it bothers me." Now I wonder if it bothers her or the version of her that thinks she is pretending to be my girlfriend. This is friggin' confusing. I want to know how the real Kira feels about it, but that Kira doesn't love me, so she's probably not too bothered about it. 

Well, I am. This is real, and eventually, Kicks will realise that too.

"I promise I won't do things like that with anybody," I assure her, really happy about that first violent answer, even if it wasn't completely sincere. "Except you."

"Good... No... not good! Stop trying to trick me, Ethan Fletcher!"

"So," I say when I finally stop laughing. "Now that you're thinking as if you're my girlfriend and actually care about what I do and who I do it with. Do you have issues with me hanging out with Wendy or any of the-."

"Ethy," she interrupts, and I can hear that she is not messing around now at all. Her voice has that gentle, serious tone I often hear when she's trying to tell me that they ran out of leftovers and I'll have to make us some cheese toasties for a snack. Kira loves my toasted cheese sandwiches. Mine specifically, and I make it for her as often as she wants me to.

"Kicks?"

"I trust you," she tells me. "You gave me your word about other girls and cheating and stuff; you even put it on a spreadsheet and signed it in blood."

"That was ketchup from the sandwich you made me." I didn't know I had some on my finger when I touched the printed sheets.

"You always keep your word. I trust you. What I said about Wendy goes for any of the millions of girls you're friends with. If you're ever not sure that nothing touchy-feely will happen between you and a girl, don't hang out with her. In other words, do what you always do... just without the naughty bits."

"What naughty bits?" I chuckle, but I get where she's coming from. I don't always behave the way I should, and I also don't always say no to kissing a girl when I should. That's over now. I belong to Kira Croft now, whether she really wants me or not. "I promise, I only want to be naughty with you, Kicks!"

"Goodbye, Pervert!" she groans and hangs up on me.

She trusts me! Hearing her spell it out explicitly like that, using that tone of voice full of sincerity, filled my heart with warmth and relief.

"That's just one of the many reasons why I love you, Kicks," I tell the blank screen, shove my phone back in the pocket of my pants, fasten my helmet on my head, and start my bike.

♂

Entering our kitchen, I am met by a scene from some smutty horror romance or another. Delia is sitting on Simon's lap, talking to him in Shakespearian English, and they're both wearing headdresses made of... dish towels? Yeah, they're wearing dishtowels on their heads. 

My mother is going to be so thrilled. She's told me a million times not to use her dish towels to wipe the floor, my face, or to dry my hands. I've never actually tried it, but I'm sure she would've had a lot to say if she ever saw me tying a couple together and rolling them into turbans for my head.

"What fresh new hell have I just stumbled into?!" I groan, dragging a chair from the table so that I can sit down. I do it extra annoyingly loud, making sure the feet scream over the tiles and, cringing, Deli gets to her feet and comes at me. She cannot flick my forehead or cuff me against the head because I'm still wearing my helmet, but I actually think that would've been preferable because, instead, she digs her nails into my thigh and twists whatever she can grab between them into a sharp pinch.

"Ow!" I jerk my leg away and pull the helmet from my head. Seriously! Did she teach that trick to Wendy, or did Wendy learn it from her? Kicks is always throwing things at me, hitting me with textbooks, that kind of thing, but she never pinches me.

"We're reading The Taming of the Shrew; I'm Petruchio, and she's Kate," Simon explains, patting the book open on the table, as if that is supposed to make sense when I just frown at them, rubbing my thigh, sure I have yet another bruise now. I should go over to Kira's and get her to kiss all my ouchies like I've seen her do with the kids she babysits.

Lance, her neighbour on the other side, asked her to kiss his bruises the other day, the way she always did when he was little, and I had to grab him, fling him over my shoulder and toss his ass into their swimming pool to make sure that Kira didn't do that. She almost did! The boy is 11 years old now and hangs out with me and the guys way too often! Jet is a seriously bad influence on the kid.

Yes, Jet is... not me... I'm a wonderful influence... Shut up!

"Why?" I grunt, really not getting it. Deli takes off her headdress and Simon's and unties them, spreading them flat so that she can fold them. I know for a fact that she is going to put them away in the drawer as if this scene from the Tales from the Dark Side has never happened, and I'm not a victim who was forced to witness it.

"It's our prescribed book this year, Ethe," she says, rolling her eyes. "You should get Kiki to read it with you."

"I'm not wearing crap on my head," I say, following Delia's eyes to my helmet resting on the table. I arch my brows at her as if I am unaware of the emoji stickers plastered all over it... especially the one depicting a pile of... well... crap, which she is trying to draw my attention to. "But I'm all for the idea of having her on my lap."

"Yeah, that's the best part," Simon chuckles, wincing when Deli swats the back of his head.

"Stop hanging out with my brother," she tells him, and there she goes, packing the ill-used dish towels into the drawer. Called it!

"Ethan! You're home!" My dad lets me know, in case I didn't notice, entering the kitchen from the hallway, and to my horror, he makes a beeline straight for me and pulls me to my feet. What the hell is happening now?

"Take off your shirt so I can see you," he orders, and I tilt my head, giving him a look.

"This level of hell just keeps on getting weirder," I mumble, and frowning at me, he grabs the edge of my T-shirt and pulls it up to inspect my ribs and touch the bruised area, making me suck in my breath.

The expression on his face says that he does not like what he sees and didn't enjoy that sharp gasp. I turn my eyes to give Deli and Simon a please-help-me look where they're watching, with some amusement, as my father knocks on my chest, pressing his ear against my ribs and listening as if he expects an answer.

"Seriously, Dad, if something opens a door for you there, I'm getting the hell out of here," I finally chuckle, pulling away from him, and he straightens, looking slightly less concerned.

"I don't think you have any broken ribs, but you might have some cracked ones," he tells me.

"No, they would've told me if they were cracked. It's all good, Dad."

"Oh! You're all here now!" My mother breezes in from the door leading into the dining room. "Dinner is ready," she smiles and seeing my dad quickly drop my T-shirt back in place, she rushes over to me. "Are you all bruised again?!"

"It's not so bad!" I grab her hands and pull her into a bear hug when she tries to pull up my shirt. My organs have had enough knocking on their front door, thank you.

"Monday, I'm going to that school," she says, wrapping her arms around me and burying her head in my chest. "And I'm going to tell Coach Palmer and Principal Blake that my little boy is no longer allowed to play rugby; he is going to join the synchronised swimming team instead."

"Thank you, Mommy; will you please buy me one of those swim caps with the plastic stick-out flowers on it," the 6.4-foot little boy asks, looking down into his 5.4-foot mother's shockingly blue eyes. 

Dad likes having his meals in the dining room, we rarely eat in the kitchen when he is home, and I can see the appeal. For one thing, the table is bigger, which means we can have more food on it. It's a nice room, lived in, like the rest of the house, with so many touches of my mother.

Mom likes nice things like flowers and thin crocheted tablecloths that look like they were made from cobwebs. On the sideboard are pictures of everybody we love, so it always feels as if our whole family is here, sharing the meal with us. I like eating with my family all together at this table, especially on Sundays, when the Crofts join us. It gets a bit messy when my dad starts in on me about his plans for me for next year, but he is laying off tonight, and we're all just enjoying the food Mom made.

I'm in a hurry, though; I want to get to the Crofts to play games with Uncle Joe and see Kira's face. Maybe, just maybe, get her to kiss me again. Even if that doesn't happen, I would just like to see her before she goes to bed. She'll probably go super early tonight since she had to be up so early this morning.

"Do you have a train to catch?" Dad asks me, and he looks a bit hurt. I often gobble down my food, begging to be excused when he is in the mood to hammer at me about going to Hummelton University next year instead of Silverview with Deli and Kira. He probably thinks I'm trying to get away from him tonight too, when he is really putting in a lot of effort to be civil and avoid topics that could cause another row.

"I have a date with my father-in-law tonight," I grin, and his face immediately clears, a sad smile touching the corners of his lips. 

"Awesome, does he get to be home for a change?"

"Yes, can you join us?"

"Sorry, I have to finalize the last minor changes to the plans for the new project; we want to break ground on Monday." He really does seem to regret saying no.

"Want me to look them over with you?" We used to do that all the time, but after my father's business partner nearly destroyed the company, he wouldn't let me near any of the plans or anything related to FG Construction ever again. It really hurts, and I don't get it. Howard Green was the pig in that tale, not me.

"Sure," he surprises me. "Tomorrow, when I'm done, we can review it together and see if I missed anything."

Yeah, I'm grinning now like I just got an extra slice of the chocolate cake Mom baked to have with coffee later, and he is looking half pleased and half uncomfortable.

"He is finally no longer just an idiot when he calls Uncle Joe his father-in-law... Ethe and Kiki are really dating now, Dad," my ever-helpful sister informs my father, and now I'm going to get a lecture. Yup, his eyes are narrowing, and he is giving me that "Ethan Alistair Fletcher, don't make me tell you twice" look of his.

"So, you finally won, did you?" he asks, surprising me for the second time tonight.

"Well... technically, she's just dating me to help me be a better version of myself; she's not dating me because she actually likes me..."

"Honey..." Mom says, not believing that, of course. She's my mother, after all.

"That's how it works, Buddy," Dad chuckles.

"Excuse me?"

"Women don't fall in love with men, Ethe," my father explains, and I really don't think he is joking around at the moment. "We wear them down until they give up and say: Okay, Ian Fletcher! I'll marry you. Will you just shut up now and get lost already?"

He sounded so much like my mother just now I had to check that she was still in her seat and didn't swap with him. She is, and she is grinning at him, her eyes narrowing, and I know she's getting ready to throw something at him.

"Then they marry you and give you some children to drive you up the walls in revenge while they spend the rest of their lives throwing stuff at you and telling you how annoying you are. It's how it works. Good job! Congratulations! I know you've wanted this for a long time now."

Who the hell is this man?

"Your father is not wrong, Ethan, my love. I do like throwing things at him and telling him he is annoying," my mother smiles, winking at my father. "He's right, that's how it works."

"I don't want to throw things at my Simon," Delia mumbles, giving my parents sulky looks, clearly worried now about the validity of her relationship with Sy since she is always singing his praises and telling everybody with an ear how much she loves the guy.

"You swatted his head earlier; I'm sure it counts," I reassure her, but now she's just glaring at me.

"That's only because he was channelling you!"

"Don't worry, Sweety, it's all good," Mom says, leaning over to squeeze her hand, balling into a fist beside her plate. "I'm sure Sy often wants to throw things at you. Right, Sy? Honey?"

Simon hurriedly picks up his glass of water and takes a nervous sip, tossing glances at my dad, who is giving him a scary look. He is right to be nervous. Deli is the apple of my father's eye. It's impressive and surprising that Sy managed to gain his respect and acceptance to the extent that he has. None of Delia's previous boyfriends ever had dinner with us or hung around here as often and for as long as Simon does. Even Jet behaves like a celibate monk around Deli whenever my father is within striking distance.

"I cannot really answer that question now, Aunt Gemma," Simon mutters. "Uncle Ian is here. I wouldn't, Sir! Never... I wouldn't throw things at Delia," he hurriedly adds, giving my father a panicked look.

♂♀