Dear Diary,
You’re never going to believe what happened.
I just came home from school and found my brother playing video games with the cutest guy ever. But he’s also mean. Very mean! I have to call Kelsey and tell her what happened. Talk later. G2G. Bye.
-Sasha Meade
I closed my diary and tucked it away under my pillow again. A blush crept across my face as I thought of the boy… Shane. How could someone be so dreamy? I heard him and my brother yelling at the TV. One thing was for sure, he was the worst nanny ever. I hated when my parents had my brother watch me.
SASHA
2016
“Not sure how you can sleep with that music blaring,” my companion said drily, looking less angry now that I’d turned the music down. “But we’re here.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled sleepily, slightly embarrassed. I could fall asleep standing up at metal concerts as well as in the car when my friends blasted their music. I found this kind of music calming and soothing. I could lose myself in it.
I got up and stretched, hearing the familiar bustle of Penn Station above us. People were always in such a rush here. It wasn’t very different from Philly, just a bit more frenetic.
My brother would be waiting for me outside where he always met me on my trips home. I tried to stay close to the wall as I walked through the concourse. That way, I wouldn’t have to dodge any stressed-out New Yorkers. Eddy had picked me up here so many times before, I knew our routine by heart. He would wait outside near the NJ Transit entrance. I waved to him as he came into view, immediately noticing his car wasn’t there.
“Hey, sis!” He hugged me tightly, and I hugged him back, happy to see him. It had been a long time. He looked just as happy to see me.
“Where is your car?” I asked, looking around.
“It’s in the shop. Shane gave me a ride,” he explained.
I looked up at him in disbelief. He knew Shane and I had a sordid past. Why would he ask Shane for a ride today? The last day of high school played out in my head like some melodramatic play before I cut it off. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. I mean, that was high school. Things were different now. I had been in a serious relationship since then and was almost engaged, even.
“Okay,” I said.
“Here, let me help with your bag.”
He grabbed my bag like it weighed nothing, and I followed him slowly to the car, my stomach sinking like I was going up the perilous tracks of a roller coaster. I climbed into the car and let my gaze settle on Shane’s face and smile.
He looked more mature—his face was harder and had sharper features. He had only one piercing now, a small one in his eyebrow. He was clean-shaven, which made sense considering he was in real estate and very good at it. His hair was short now, too, also somewhat more professional. I had never seen someone strike such a natural balance between bad-boy and businessman. The combination was so alluring I could barely speak.
“Hi,” I breathed.
“Hey there,” Shane responded. “How’s Philly?”
We were casual Facebook friends, so I knew of his life and he knew of mine. I also knew he had started his own real estate business. He was very successful, and, having already inherited a couple million from his parents, he was now a young almost-billionaire.
“It was a lot of fun. Looking forward to summer, though.” I tried to keep my voice even. “How’s motorcycling and business?”
“Good, good. You know. How about the boring school stuff, nerd?” he teased.
I scoffed under my breath and turned away, staring at Penn Station. My brother was still trying to stuff my car in the trunk. “Listen. Let me be clear,” I said quickly. “We are not friends. So let’s be polite and simple, shall we? Besides, why couldn’t you just send a driver? You have tons of money.”
He laughed. His voice was far deeper and sexier than I remembered it being. It made me love him and hate him at the same time. “Someone knows how to hold a grudge, I see. But fair deal.”
My brother joined us in the car, slamming the door behind him. “Whew, sis. What do you have in there? And can you clean out your trunk sometime, Shane?”
“Stuff. Besides, you’re like a super body builder. I figured you could handle that,” I replied drily, referencing his weight-lifting obsession. I slipped my headphones on, blasting music again. Shane’s gaze met mine in the rearview mirror, holding steady. I rolled my eyes and turned away to stare out the window. I was glad I would be rid of him soon.
The ride went on forever, as awkward situations often do. Eventually, though, we were home. We pulled up to the house, the old Brooklyn brownstone I grew up in. It looked remarkably the same. Mom hadn’t done a lot except add some shrubs to give the dried grass some greenery. Shane’s parents lived in the brownstone next door, and they were always blasting music. That hadn’t changed either. My mom and dad were waiting for me on the stoop, reminding me of the times they would have small parties for us when school ended, marking the beginning of summer vacation.
My mom, beautiful and well-groomed no matter what the occasion, greeted me with a big, beautiful smile. My dad wore his typical plaid shirt, his glasses reflecting the sun. I was suddenly so excited to see them despite being tired from nervousness of the day. Overjoyed, I scrambled out of the car.
“Mom! Dad!” My mom took me in her arms, and I embraced her tightly. She wore the lotion she’d always used, a scent I associated with her comforting presence.
“Hi, baby!” she exclaimed, giving me an extra squeeze.
“Hello, dear,” Dad said. “Do you need help with your bag?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I think it was a bit too much for Mr. Muscles to handle,” I teased, flashing a sly glance at Eddy.
My father helped my brother. “Jeez, Shane. You have so many car parts in here,” I heard Dad say.
“Motorcycle,” Shane corrected him.
“Come inside. We have cold cuts for dinner, and I made a banana cream pie.” Mom guided me into the house, her arm still around my waist.
“Oh, yum!”
“Shane!” she called over her shoulder. “Come in for dinner.”
“Yeah, Shane, come in,” Dad said.
“Yeah sure, Shane, come in,” I repeated sarcastically. I didn’t feel up for an evening across the table from him. On top of that, I didn’t look very cute. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t protest. I was happy to be home, so I tried to push my awkward tension with him out of my mind.
Our house was beautiful inside as well. My mother had a knack for making even the biggest place feel cozy. Apple decorations and country-style wallpaper covered nearly every room. My room was on the top floor, and I knew it was still painted chalkboard black from my teen years.
I heard everyone come in as I washed up in the small guest bathroom downstairs, rubbing the pungent soap all over my hands. I wiped my hands on one of the soft towels. My mother made everything really presentable. She was an expert at hospitality. I left the bathroom and absorbed my surroundings, trying to mentally prepare myself for the week to come.
I followed everyone to the dining room, hearing the familiar chatter of neighbors outside. The window was open, letting in some of the evening air that was beginning to cool. On the table were paper plates, cups, and several kinds of soda. Mom had spread an appetizing array of cold cuts—salami, cheese, bologna, and some other Italian meats that I forgot the name of. I took a seat and helped myself to some fresh mozzarella.