Deon

I honestly can't believe Pres agreed to watch a movie with me. She's usually pissed at me almost all the time, probably because I can't keep my stupid mouth shut, but she's been very nice since this morning. I'm not complaining. Hell, I'm feeling ecstatic.

"So, I need to warn you about something before you take a step inside my house."

"What is it?" She asks, looking worried.

"My family is a bit loco, so please don't get offended if anybody says anything to you. Especially my brothers. They can be very blunt most of the time."

"Oh, okay."

I open my front door, and she pauses at the threshold. Her gaze lands on my mom's grand piano and it lingers for a moment before she takes in the rest of her surroundings. Her eyes dart from our big, fancy sofa set to the marble staircase to the granite pantry to the paintings on the walls as her mouth settles into a big 'O'.

"Come on in," I say, biting back a smile.

I lead her towards the stairs just as Brianna comes hopping down them wearing a pink ballet tutu, ballet slippers and fairy wings, with Jake. She has dressed Jake in a pink doggy suit that Mom had stitched for him. Jake sits beside her feet, wagging his tail and eyeing Pres suspiciously. "Who are you?" She regards Pres, accusatorily. "Are you like Gen?"

From the corner of my eye I see Pres looking at me, and I frown at my sister.

"No, Bree. She's not like Gen," I clear my throat and say before Bree gets the chance to elaborate. "Pres, this is Brianna, my favorite sibling."

"Thanks, Dee Dee," Bree says, then turns to Pres and smiles brightly. "Because you're not like Gen, you can call me Bree."

"It's nice to meet you, Bree," Presley smiles sweetly at her. "Brianna is a lovely name. Oh, I love your tutu."

How the fuck is it possible?

Pres has known my sister for less than five seconds and they're getting along really well, but she's known me for about a month, and it was only recently that she started tolerating me.

Life can be unfair like that sometimes.

You need to up your game, man, my subconscious mocks me.

"Thank you!" Bree exclaims, breaking through my thoughts. "Mommy bought it for me from England. Can I touch your hair?"

"Of course." Pres bends down a little for Bree to touch her hair and I see a look of discomfort cross her face, but she is soon distracted by Jake circling around her. He settles down next to her and happily licks at her white sandaled feet. "Hey, you." She focuses her attention on him and strokes his head which makes him jump up and down, his tail wagging rapidly as he tries to lick her face.

I cross my arms and lean against the staircase, staring at her in awe as she interacts with my little sister and our puppy. "I've been wanting to ask you. Is your hair color natural or have you dyed it?"

"It's my natural hair," she replies, gazing up at me from her slightly bent position.

"It's so pretty. Can I braid it? Pretty please with sugar on top," Bree says, expecting her to say yes.

"Sure—"

"Maybe another time," I cut in, which makes Bree frown. "Presley and I are going to watch a movie now."

"Okay." Bree sighs before walking away with Jake, calling, "It was very nice to meet you, Pesley."

"It's Presley," I call out.

"Pesley. That's what I said," Bree calls back. I don't think she's able to pronounce Pres's name properly yet.

"Why did you tell her no?" Pres pouts, facing me. "Your sister's adorable."

I snicker. "Oh, no. She could be a little demon sometimes."

"I highly doubt that."

Oh, you have no idea.

"Come on, let's go upstairs and watch something."

"Um...would you mind if I play the piano for a minute or two?" She asks. "By the way, who plays it?"

"Of course not. My mom plays sometimes. Both myself and Jay, one of my younger brothers, do too," I say, leading her towards Mom's grand piano and flipping open its fallboard.

"You play the piano?"

Pres nods. "I used to play back at my old house. I haven't played in like three years though." She frowns for a moment. "I just wanna see if I've still got it in me."

"Oh, okay. Next time you come over, you don't need my permission."

If she ever comes over again.

I don't think she heard what I just said because she's busy meddling with the keys. She scowls, biting her bottom lip in concentration before she starts playing something, really softly at first, before it gradually gets louder. I recognize the music as the popular 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy' from The Nutcracker ballet by Tchaikovsky.

There's no doubt that she's got it in her. Her long fingers move fluidly over the black and white keys, accenting the crescendos and decrescendos perfectly. In some parts, they move slowly, and in other parts, really fast. The tone color gives off a warm, gentle, and a bit of a melancholy feeling.

Presley sways slightly to the beat, lost in the music. She's amazing. I'm amazed. From the corner of my eye, I see Brianna's tiny head pop out from the kitchen island. She gapes at Pres before directing her eyes at me. Then she starts doing the dance she did for her ballet class recital in January. Groaning internally, I raise my index finger to my lips and gesture for her to stay quiet and she slowly tiptoes away.

When she finishes playing the song, she sighs and stands abruptly, smiling gleefully. "I'm done. Let's go watch a movie now."

I chuckle before leading her to my room.

Such a peculiar thing she is.

Presley

I feel so happy and satisfied after playing the piano because it's been ages since I last played. But, there's a tiny thought nagging at my brain.

Gen...

Deon said I was nothing like Gen. I probably shouldn't ask him, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

"Who's Gen?" I speak out the thought that's been bothering me since Brianna mentioned it.

Deon's silent for a few seconds before he says, "She's my ex. Um...I don't really wanna talk about her." His face looks blank and void of any emotion.

"Of course. I'm so sorry if I'm being nosy."

"It's okay. You're not." He gives me a half-smile.

"Does it still hurt?" Deon asks me once I'm settled into a big comfy blue bean bag in front of the ginormous, expensive-looking TV in his room. It takes me a moment to realize he's talking about my period.

"Not much, but it usually only gets worse in the mornings and evenings," I state before taking my sandals off and placing them beside me on the carpeted floor. Bending my legs and drawing my knees up to my chest, I nearly moan in relief when the ache in my abdomen reduces to almost nothing. "I'm good for now though. But, just in case, have you got any Ibuprofen?"

"Wait, let me check." Deon rummages in a box next to his bed. "Yeah," he says, handing me a box of Advil and an unopened bottle of water. I normally have to take two tablets of Ibuprofen after every meal during my period. That's the only thing that helps me survive during that time.

"Thanks." I smile up at him, grateful. Honestly, my period cramps are horrible in the evenings due to my endometriosis, but I don't want to ruin the mood by telling him that. "So, what are we watching?"

"I have a few new movies and a few old ones I haven't watched before. You can pick whatever. There's a lot more if you don't like any of these." He passes me a couple dozen DVDs from a drawer.

There's Footloose, Fast & Furious 9, CODA, Kissing Booth 3, Candyman, After We Fell, Five Feet Apart, Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard, and a few others that look boring. "How have you not watched Footloose? It's amazing!"

Deon shrugs and flops down onto the orange bean bag next to me.

"Can we watch Five Feet Apart?" The blurb at the back of the DVD cover seems really nice and romantic.

"Is it a romance movie?"

"Yep—"

"Hell no," he says before I even finish.

"Please? You said we could watch anything I want," I plead.

"Okay, fine." He gives in easily, which makes me smile.

I read the back of the CD and it sounds a bit like The Fault in our Stars. It's based on a girl and a boy who has a disease called cystic fibrosis, and they fall in love.

I hand it over to him and he goes and puts it in the CD player below the TV before sitting back down next to me.

"Shit. I almost forgot something. Give me a sec, I'll be right back." He gets back up and disappears out his bedroom door.

While he's gone, I take a good look around his room. The walls are painted a light shade of blue, which is unexpected cause I thought of him as a person who would like dark colors. I have no idea why. The study table, chair, bookshelf, cupboard and bed, all match. They look like parts of one big set of furniture. Every inch of the floor is covered in a black comfortable furry carpet. There's a dark blue night light in the shape of a star on the wall above the headboard. A few tiny picture frames are hung in front of his study table. There are two pictures of Deon and Brianna with their puppy, and a few more which I'm guessing are with his whole family.

Next to his books on the table is a football. It makes me wonder if he has played any sports before he came to Westbeach. His lean, not-too-muscular-but-amazing figure looks very sporty.

Deon returns with a tub of Ben & Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a spoon. "Here you go."

"You didn't have to do that, but thank you." I beam at him. His little gesture warms my heart. He's super nice to me today, very much unlike all the other days where he's cocky.

"No problem." He gives me his cute dimpled smile before starting the movie.

Deon

"No." Pres sniffles. "Why did he have to go? Now she's gonna end up being miserable for the rest of her life."

She sobs softly and I just sit next to her, helpless. I have no idea how to handle a hormonal and crying girl.

"He's Cole Sprouse! He can't die," she cries.

I attempt to soothe her. "It's just a movie, Pres."

"No, it's not," she says, sobbing harder. Damn it.

"Um... maybe they'll release a second movie and he'll be there with a new set of lungs?" I suggest in an attempt to calm her down.

She suddenly stops crying and wipes her eyes. "Oh, yeah, maybe."

Phew! Why did I not think of saying that earlier?

"You okay?" I ask, afraid the waterworks would start again.

"Yep." Her cheeks are still red from all the crying and her eyes look glossy. She looks so adorable I want to hug her.

"So...Do you have any siblings?" I try to change the subject, but at that, her eyes start to water again. "No, please don't cry. We don't have to talk about that. Let's talk about something else—"

"It's fine. I want to." She takes a deep breath before saying, "They um...they died in a car crash."

Who?

"My mom, dad and sister died in a car accident three years ago," she answers my unspoken question and clarifies when she sees my dumbstruck expression. Her eyebrows pinch together and her eyes glisten from earlier, but she's not crying anymore, and that's a huge relief.

But, Jesus Christ! Am I hearing her right?

This explains why she seems sad sometimes and why she lives with her grandparents. She must have gone through hell. I don't ever want to feel even a fraction of what she must've felt. If this had happened to me, I would've gone crazy. Literally. I feel so bad for even asking if she had any siblings. I'm a fucking unobservant idiot.

"Pres, I'm so sorry. You don't have to talk about it."

She just nods.

"Um...uh...do you play video games? PUBG? GTA? F1?" I ask.

Pres sniffles, but nods once again, smiling a little through her now dried tears.

Fuck My Life.

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