12/1/16

THE STRONG WIND kisses my face and tangles my hair as the crisp air curls around my warm body. The grass tickles the skin of my bare thighs as my fingers play with the pebbles that fill the solid ground around me.

My eyes watch a man with similar green eyes walk closer. Though his are darker, almost black, and wiser and older. But if one looks closely they can see the same shade of jungle green that hides beneath the darkness. Like a wild amazon at night.

"Here," he says as a smile blooms across his face. He tosses a worn out book at me out of nowhere that I instinctively catch between my small hands. I run my soft fingers over the worn out spine of the book.

"What is this?" I ask as I can barely see the title because the paperback cover has been bent to hell and back. A book that has been read so thorough it's been worshiped.

"A book," he jokes sarcastically. He lowers his body next to mine though he is twice as tall as my small teenage body.

I huff with a roll of my eyes. "I got that," I state dryly. "What I mean is what book is it?" I clarify.

"The Giver," he tells me. "Your mother gave it to me years ago. Before it was even published."

"When she worked at that publishing agency?" I ask as my fingers begin to thumb through the yellowing pages.

"Exactly," my father acknowledges. I grew up in a family whose love for reading rivaled a love for anything in this whole world, besides one another. Books shaped our lives in every way. What we speak about, what we learn, what we watch all centers around what is first put on paper.

"There are some errors in it as it was a draft, but it's one of my all time favorites," he tells me as I continue to take in the pages that my father so obviously loved.

"Why?" I ask when I finally look up to meet eyes that mirror my own.

"Because the way the main character sees the world changes completely," he tells me. "And that happened to me."

"When?" I question as my eyes narrow.

He faces forward so that the wind breathes against his pale skin, and pushes his blondish hair back. "When I first saw your mother," he answers. "It was like I was seeing color for the first time," he adds a few seconds after.

I didn't understand his words until I read the book for the first time the next night. Then I read it the next night as well, and for a month it was the only book I read and held onto like lifeline as my entire world fell apart around me.

My eyes groggily open as one of the last happy memories I have with my father begins to slip away. My pulse is racing and my throat feels clogged as I try and push away the emotions that attempt to fill my every waking breath. The emotions I push away and never speak of because I fear they may overrun my life and my heart.

The trees and empty dry land blur past my vision as the car I'm in speeds down the road. I tilt my head to left to see Chase relaxed behind the wheel unaware of the battle raging through my head right now. Unaware of the anxiety and anger that want to consume me whole, but I refuse to let that happen.

"How much longer," I groan as I lean my chair back even further in the car. My arms reach above my head as I stretch out all the kinks that filled my body during my nap.

Chase rolls his eyes at me as I had been complaining for the better part of the long drive before my nap. I've never been the best at long road trips. I get antsy very quickly. Thankfully Chase has driven the majority of the drive as he's made it a few times and knows the routes better.

"Like an hour," he says with a layer of annoyance filling his tone.

"Hey," I chastise. "You wanted me to come, which means you take all of my flaws as well," I smile as I toss him a playful wink.

"Whatever," he mumbles. He shakes his head at me, as his eyes stay locked on the long winding interstate ahead of us.

"So explain the infamous Hasting family to me," I tell him as my body shifts around to get comfortable. "I am your girlfriend by the way, which means I should know all this stuff," I point out. While I do know quite a bit about Chase, as he is one of my best friends, his family is a whole other topic. One he rarely speaks about, and if he does he never does for long before changing to another subject all together.

"Parents," he states as if it's that simple.

"Elaborate please," I say rolling my wrist as if this should be obvious.

"Dad," he starts before realizing it wouldn't be appropriate for me to call his father that when we are meeting for the first time. "Daniel," he changes.

"Is he the stern, quiet, and brooding father, or the awful dad jokes and wears a Hawaiian shirt kind of father?" I tease attempting to guess about the family he never talks about.

"Umm, I guess neither," he laughs dryly. "He's the kind of father who actually cares, but sometimes he gets caught up in his own version of what he thinks is good for us but overall—"

"He cares," I finish for him. I push away the small flare of jealously that flashes through my body at the way he speaks about his father.

"Yeah," he responds quietly.

"Okay, now tell me about the mother," I say in attempts to take him out of his head. Out of his thoughts, his fears, of his family not loving him anymore.

"Mom, Jayne," he starts once again with the name.

"Hmm, let me guess she was the quintessential stay at home mom who ran PTA fundraisers and luncheons, and now redecorates the house four times a year," I try again with guessing what his so called perfect family is like.

He looks at me with a slight tilt of his head. "What?" I ask.

"You started off right, but my mom actually went to college for accounting and finance, and oversees all the financial records at my fathers company," he explains. I sometimes forget his father is CEO of this huge and powerful company. Mr. Hasting started one of the largest construction and engineering companies in the country years and years ago. All of the Hasting men work for their father on the board of directors, though Chase doesn't want to and has yet to tell his father about his true ambitions.

"Oh, wow, a powerful working mother," I comment. "I dig it," I nod as my eyes wander towards the exit signs silently craving some French fries.

"You dig it?" Chase questions slowly as if my words confused him.

"What? It's a thing still," I tell him. My palms up and my lips fall agape in defense. 

"I don't think so," he says with raised eyebrows, and complete judgment. Which if we are being honest is the usual mask he wears.

"Does she still make cookies though?" I ask as if it's the only important part.

He laughs, the warm tone making my face lift in a slight smile. Chase laughs less and less these days, and in this moment I make it my mission to make him laugh more. To enjoy life more. "The best," he responds about his mother's cookies.

"That's all I care about," I say with a lazy shrug of my shoulders. "Now begin on the brothers," I tell him with an over the top, long sweeping wave of my hand.

"Colt is the oldest," Chase begins.

"And—" I only get one word out in feeble attempts to once again make predictions about his flesh and blood.

"No more guessing," he stops me not wanting to hear what outlandish things I might come up with for his brother.

"Fine," I say defeated. "Continue," I tell my best friend. I cross my arms over my chest and relax back into my seat as I draw my legs in under myself.

"Colt, oldest, doesn't hang around much," he says as if he's listing off side effects to medication, not facts about his brother. "He's quiet, and doesn't care much about anyone but himself," his words turning slightly sour at the end.

"Okay, next brother," I instruct Chase mentally memorizing ever word he says about his family.

"Clayton, he will be home during break with us most likely, and he's pretty quiet though he's actually cooler then Colt," he says. Once again the information he's giving me is extremely limited and minimal.

"You guys get along?" I ask trying to pull more out of Chase.

"I guess," he shrugs. Well that didn't work too well, I think to myself.

"Okay, and I know probably too much about Cale," I comment wryly. "So good start," I say with the clap of my hands.

Chase mumbles something under his breath, but I don't ask what because I know he's in a mood. He is just as worried about lying to his parents as I am, and I know he doesn't want to. But he also needs some more time, and that is what this lie is buying him.

"So will Colt be coming down for break?" I ask as I shift so my body is almost completely facing Chase.

"He always shows up late, so you won't meet him until the Christmas party," he says as if this is a yearly routine his eldest brother does. Something he expects, something he has grown use to.

"Wow, I get to meet the other infamous Hasting men," I tease. "How lucky am I?" I play.

"You're sarcasm is endearing by the way," Chase sardonically answers back.

"So if you aren't close with any of your brothers really, then who are you close with?" I ask lastly. Chase is an amazing person, and it makes me sad that he has this distance between him and his brothers.

"My dad," he answers immediately. No pause, no need to think.

My heart clinches.

I place my hand over his and offer a comforting squeeze.

"Let's go have the best winter break ever," I tell him. Not an inch of sarcasm touching my lips this time.

* * * * *

We pull up to a huge house, and by huge house I mean gigantic. The Hasting home is three stories tall, and built in a pale red brick with a wrap around white porch. It's odd seeing a home that is fitting for a plantation sitting here framed by a bright blue ocean and tan sand.

"Holy shit, this is where you live?" I ask in shock as I continue to gawk at the beautiful home before me. So different from the home I was raised in.

"Yeah," he says as if his house is a tiny shack. To him this is his childhood home, it's never been surprising or new or amazing. He's never been in awe of its beauty. It's an odd feeling to realize someone who I've known for the better part of a year is suddenly so different from me.

"I knew you had money but not this kind," I remark. "If you want I'll be your real girlfriend," I smirk as the grin plays on my lips.

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever," he grumbles at my teasing words.

"Oh, right sorry," I apologize. "I'm not your type," I wink lightheartedly.

"Oh, shut up," he says shoving me playfully.

We make our way inside the double French doors, and before we can set our luggage down his parents are rushing over to us. His beautiful put together parents.

"Oh, Chase it's so good to see you!" his mother gushes as she wraps her arms around him. The smell of her expensive perfume fills the air around her and it makes my heart stop as memories threaten to push forward from the lock box I hold them tightly in.

"And you must be Hayley!" Chase's mother squeals in excitement.

I nod. "Yes, hi," I say as nerves slide their way through my veins unexpectedly. "It's nice to meet you," I respond as politely as I can. The stark realization that I want his parents to like me, actually like me, hits me hard.

"Oh, no it's nice to meet you!" she counters with a huge grin covering her lovely face. "When Chase said he was bringing someone home we were shocked, but we've heard so much about you as we always wondered if you two were more then friends—"

"Breathe dear," Chase's father says stepping in and cutting off his wife. He lifts his hand to shake mine. Obviously the Hasting brothers take after their father, as he is a complete silver fox paired with the same hazel eyes his handsome sons adorn.

"It's nice to meet you," he smiles warmly.

"Same to you," I reply.

"Well come on it," Chase's mother tells us the excitement almost visibly buzzing around her.

I go to grab my suitcase when Mr. Hasting cuts off my actions.

"Don't worry about that we can get that later come in and relax first!" he says kindly. I nod in response and follow the Hasting family.

Chase's parents lead us into their family room and I can't help the way my eyes take in everything that surrounds me. Cool tones of blues, greens, and grays paint the room while the traditional furniture and paintings drip the interior with elegance. It's the essence of the beautiful beach that surrounds us without being gaudy.

"Sit, sit," Mrs. Hasting repeats as she waves her hand in motion for Chase and I to sit on the large leather couch across from theirs.

"So," Chase's father starts off obviously not knowing where to begin with their son bringing home his first girl.

"When did you start dating?" Mrs. Hasting asks. Her words filled with enthusiasm as if she's been waiting for this day, and a piece of me aches at the idea that none of this is real. That when they find out, when they know they've been lied to, will they still want to embrace me like family. Like the family I haven't had in years.

Chase snakes his hand around mine and his touch brings me back to reality. I flicker my eyes to his soft hazel ones and smile.

"Beginning of this semester," Chase answers his mother. The story is that we were friends for almost a year when we started to see each other as more.

"And it's getting serious?" his mother probes.

"Mom," Chase groans embarrassed by his mother as I hold back a giggle.

"It's solid," I say simply as I squeeze his hand back in reassurance.

The sound of a door opening draws everyone's attention to the back door near the kitchen. "Clayton!" Mrs. Hasting exclaims as her hands clasp together in happiness. "You've just got to meet Chase's new girlfriend," she tells him as she throws me a sincere smile.

I return the smile and can't help but begin to love Chase's mother.

My boyfriend's older brother walks forward and as soon as he takes a few steps forward my eyes widen as if I don't believe what I'm seeing. I truly can't believe what I am seeing. Because it can't be him, it can't be the guy from the bar who kissed me in a way my body refuses to forget. The guy who in the last year has randomly infiltrated my dreams making it hard to forget about the way he made my boring night feel electric.

The nameless man who fills my dreams sometimes, or rather Clayton, steps forward and smiles at his brother.

"Good to see you Chase," he says as he places an outreached hand at his brother and they shake hands. The voice the same deep, spine tingling one I've dreamt of over the past year.

He then moves to stand in front of me his tall frame filling up every bit of my vision. I swallow the lump in my throat trying to wet my dry throat and lips as my body freezes in the presence of a man who a year ago changed a part of me. I don't know why or how, but he did.

He extends his hand at me as well. "Nice to meet you...." he trails waiting for me to state my name.

"Hayley," I finally say holding the breath that fills my lungs in fear.

But I don't need to be scared. Because his eyes show no recognition, no flash of a faint memory, they show nothing. He shakes my hand and immediately drops it, as if he doesn't feel the sparks that jumped off my skin at the contact.

"I'm going to go clean up before dinner," he tells his mother before kissing her check lightly. Almost on reflex, as if it's something he always does. And for some reason that makes my heart beat faster in a way I don't expect.

Then Chase's older brother disappears upstairs just like he did a year ago. But this time I know I'll see him again, because for the next month I'll be living in the same house as him.

Fuck.