Spencer

Randall and Kiara had headed up to bed an hour ago, and Anna was slumped against the arm of the chair she was sitting in. "I think she's asleep," Riley said quietly.

"Looks that way," I agreed.

All the lights were turned off around us, leaving the television's blue glow as our only source of light. There were pizza boxes scattered around the living room because Anna had proclaimed that a video game tournament demanded pizza. I had noticed that whenever Anna said she wanted something, her parents scrambled to make it happen. And I wasn't the only one who knew it. When Randall went to call in the pizza order, Riley had leaned in and whispered something in Anna's ear. Then she said, "How about cheesy bread too?" and Randall tacked it onto the end of the order without even a flicker of hesitation.

Riley had winked at me, then, and turned my stomach into a fluttery mess for the next several minutes.

"Are you ready to head up?" Riley asked.

"Not really. It's only ten PM back home." Here in New York, it was eleven, which wasn't very late. I was a little surprised Annaliese had already fallen asleep.

Riley nodded his understanding. "Yeah, time zone changes can be a real bitch."

"Have you done much travel?" I asked.

We were both sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch that my father and stepmother had vacated. Riley slid down a little, which I took as a sign that he wasn't going to go up to bed just yet. "Some," he said. I could feel him studying me, but I looked down at my hands. "My parents are from Mexico. They're not citizens, but I am since I was born here. They were deported years ago and haven't been able to come back. I go visit them when I can."

"Oh." And now I felt like a bad person for being jealous about my father taking him in. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but it seemed likely that Randall had taken Riley in so he could stay in the country without having to go through the foster care system. "That must be hard."

It was a stupid thing to say. Of course, it was hard. But Riley just smiled a little. "Yeah, sometimes. But I've got a good life."

Oh, no, he was an optimist. That was like catnip to me. As if I didn't already want a taste of him.

A comfortable silence fell, and I tried to push down what was possibly the stupidest question I could ask him... but it came out anyway. I'd never been good at self-restraint. "Um, Riley? Just tell me if this is insensitive or whatever. I swear I don't mean any offense. But, um, if your parents are Mexican, why is your name Riley?"

He laughed and clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, though he didn't look very concerned when he glanced back at Anna to make sure he hadn't woken her. "I'm not offended," he assured me. "My legal name is Riley Roberto Antonio Sanchez. My parents call me Roberto. They made my first name Riley because they thought it might give me a social buffer. People can be pretty cruel if you're too Mexican. I can't tell you how many people have assumed I'm not a citizen until I introduce myself. They hear my name and my lack of an accent, and their whole demeanor shifts."

"I'm sorry. People suck."

He shrugged.

Silence fell again, broken when Riley asked, "Have you? Traveled?"

"Not really."

More silence.

Was everyone this awkward with new people? What were you even supposed to say? I wracked my brain for something that wouldn't sound inane or forced, but the harder I tried, the more words fled me. Come on, Spence. If you're this boring, he's going to leave.

Thankfully, Riley was apparently not as socially inept as me and didn't seem to mind carrying the conversation. "I think it was brave of you to come here," he said.

I looked at him, surprised. And I don't know whether it was the way the night wrapped around us, the fact that Riley was officially the person I knew the best in this whole house, or something about him that made him easy to talk to. But I stopped trying to force a good conversation or impress him, and I answered with the bare truth. "I don't think so. Actually, I've spent most of today realizing how stupid it was."

Riley's lips twitched toward a smile, but his eyes stayed warm and serious as he looked at me. "It'll get better." He glanced at my sister, who was still conked out on the chair, and said, "I know Anna's glad you came."

If it had been anyone else on the planet saying that, I wouldn't have believed them. But Riley was her best friend, and it was obvious the two shared a strong bond. He had to know how she really felt about me coming here. The question was, would Riley lie to me? Looking into his warm brown eyes, I wanted to believe he wouldn't. I hoped he wouldn't.

"I'm glad you're here, too," Riley added, and turned back toward the TV. He switched the input so a sitcom played instead of the end game screen from our last round, and he appeared entirely focused on the show. After a few seconds of hesitation, I turned back toward the TV, too, and watched with him.

--

I woke up with that odd sense that I wasn't in my own bed. It was softer than I was used to, with pillows you could melt into instead of the kind I preferred, which were worn and firm. The bedding was all wrong, too. It had a faintly floral scent that tickled my nose.

It took a few moments of lying there before yesterday's events caught up to me and I remembered where I was.

My father's house.

My room was next to Riley's, which was across from Anna's. Randall and his wife were all the way down the hall, separated from the rest of by a balcony overlooking the living room and a bathroom.

God, this house was stupidly nice. Who has an indoor balcony?

I was seriously tempted to stay in bed all morning. These people didn't know me. They didn't know I was an early riser, and they probably wouldn't come looking for me for a while. But what was the point of coming here if I wasn't going to put in an effort? If I was going to hide myself away, I might as well just go home (something that still wasn't entirely off the table).

So I got out of bed and pulled out the first outfit I could reach in my suitcase. I wasn't going to bother unpacking just yet. Then, I went off in search of breakfast.

I had hoped that no one would be awake so soon, but once again I was thwarted by the time zone change. It might be six in the morning to my body, but in actuality, it was seven in the morning. Still pretty early, but apparently not too early for Randall.

"Hey, good morning, Spencer," he greeted when I walked in. "I wasn't expecting to see you up for a while. Lord knows it'll be hours before Anna or Riley emerges."

So it would be just me and him and my stepmother, who had so far largely ignored me? Super. "Yeah, I've always been a morning person," I said.

"Me too," Randall said. Then he added the damndest thing. As in: damn him for saying it. "Maybe you get that from me."

It irritated me enough that I lied, just to shoot him down. "Naw, my mom's always been an early riser too."

It had been so long since he knew her, surely he wouldn't remember that Mom didn't like waking up before ten. It was part of the reason she worked second shift.

"Oh. Well, help yourself to some cereal. We usually have bigger breakfasts over the weekend, but during the work week, everyone fends for themselves."

"Cereal's fine."

Randall got up and showed me where everything was, and soon we were eating side-by-side at the table in the breakfast nook that Anna had claimed no one ever used. Maybe she only thought that because she wasn't awake to see it.

Randall finished eating before I did, and I could feel his eyes on me. It made me self-conscious. Was he seeing himself in my features and wishing he didn't? Was he failing to see himself and wishing he could? Or maybe I was arrogant to think that's what was going through his mind at all. It was probably something else altogether.

Did he feel even a little bit bad about staying out of my life up until now?

No, Randall's expression was completely neutral, and I felt stupid for believing he might be thinking about our relationship when he said, "Would you mind filling out your emergency information? We have folders for everyone in the house. It's especially important for you and Riley, since we won't know everyone you want us to call in case something happens."

I didn't know what he was talking about until he slid a file folder from the spot next to his on the table, a box I hadn't paid any attention to until now. He pulled out a packet and showed it to me. The first page had his name, blood type, and a list of names and phone numbers. The next page proclaimed in large, bold letters to be a living will. He set that down and pulled out an empty form, which he slid in front of me. I didn't have a living will, of course, but I idly wondered whether I should as I quickly filled out the sheet and slid it back. The only person I listed as an emergency contact was my mother, and Randall already had her phone number. The rest of the form seemed sort of pointless, since I was pretty sure medical personnel couldn't use blood type information they hadn't confirmed, themselves. But whatever. It was quicker to do as he asked than to argue with it.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Randall commented.

He should already know the answer to this, and it hurt more than it should that he didn't. That sharp ache in my chest made me lash out in a way I'd sworn up and down I wouldn't do. I wasn't here to attack my father. I was here to see if, somehow, we might be a part of each other's lives. "Just with strangers."

The only indication my barb might have landed was Randall's lips pressing into a thin line, and maybe that was just disapproval. It was hard to say, since he didn't seem upset when he responded, "Yeah, I can be the same way."

I nodded and finished off the rest of my cereal. I loaded my bowl into the dishwasher and turned to flee upstairs when Randall called my name.

"Yeah?" I answered, not turning back.

"Can we talk? Just for a minute?"

There was a tone of desperation in his voice, now, and purely out of curiosity, I sat back down at the table. Once I did, Randall's eyes slid to his lap, though they kept flicking up at me. "I wanted to apologize."

That awful, sick feeling returned to my stomach. The one I got whenever something made our estrangement obvious. I didn't want to talk about this, and I didn't see the point in an apology now, after all this time.

How could he expect me to believe he was sorry about a decision he'd made every single day for twenty-one years?

"I'm sorry," Randall continued. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, and I'm sorry it took me so long to reach out."

"Then why did you do it?" I asked. I didn't want to know, not really. There was no answer he could give that would make this okay, so I didn't want to hear his excuses. But at the same time, I kind of needed to hear how he'd been justifying himself for all these years.

"Kiara..." Randall swallowed and looked really uncomfortable. "Pregnancy was hard on her. Stressful. And I didn't want to make that worse by bringing another woman into it. Then, we had our hands full raising Annaliese and I just... I know it's no excuse, but when you put something off for long enough, it starts to get harder and harder to take action. At some point, I convinced myself you'd be better off without me disrupting your life."

I didn't grow up with a father because... because it would have stressed out his then-girlfriend? And he didn't think my mother had been stressed raising a baby alone, especially with how she'd struggled to support us?

If I responded to him, this whole conversation would blow up. I was too mad to handle it rationally. Too hurt. I stood and was about to storm out, but footsteps thumped on the stairs and I turned to see Riley and Anna entering the kitchen. "What are you two doing up so early?" Randall asked.

"Anna's got a doctor's appointment," Riley said, and I didn't miss the way his gaze flicked at me and quickly away. The second of contact warmed me, and I suddenly wished I had spent more time choosing my clothes. Gah, and I hadn't even bothered to look in a mirror. My hair was probably a mess.

Randall stood, too. "I can take you, sweetie."

"No, Randall, I've got it. You and Spencer should keep hanging out," Riley said.

Damn him for being so thoughtful.

"No, you should go," I told Randall. It was rude of me, but I wanted him gone. If he was gone, I wouldn't have to hole up in my room to get away from him.

Randall looked hurt, which only made me angrier. But he didn't argue. "Let me go grab my wallet and keys," he said, and ran up the stairs.

"That was mean," Annaliese said.

He started it, I thought, but I knew better than to say something so juvenile. Even if it was the truth.

"Anna," Riley said quietly. She glanced at him and he shook his head.

She sighed and said, "Tell Dad I'll meet him outside." She grabbed an apple from a fruit basket on the kitchen counter and left.

"Sorry about that," Riley said softly.

I looked at him and my heart jolted when I realized he was right next to me. How had I not noticed him growing so close? "You don't need to apologize for her."

"I know. But she didn't mean it. She's just nervous about going to the doctor."

I didn't want to understand, but I kind of did. I was an interloper in her house, new competition for her father's attention. Her mother obviously didn't appreciate my existence, and God only knew what Kiara had said to Annaliese about me. And to top it all off... I usually got irritable when I was anxious, too. And doctors had always skeeved me out.

I sighed. "I get it." That didn't mean I was okay with how little interest Annaliese had in being around me or with the way she'd just spoken to me. She'd have to be the one to apologize to make that happen.

Randall came back downstairs and if he lingered for longer than it took to put on shoes and say goodbye, I would have gone upstairs. I would have done it anyway, except that once Randall was gone, I was left alone with Riley.

At least one thing had gone right today. At least I'd get some time alone with him.