Sweet Dandelion

I wonder what the color is called. I think I’d name it In the Pink of Time.

She takes our coats, hanging them in a hall closet.

“Oh,” she claps her hands suddenly and I jump from the noise, “I’m Eliza. Elizabeth—but I prefer Eliza.”

She looks like an Eliza.

“It’s really nice to meet you.”

I elbow Sage when he says nothing, too busy staring at the beautiful home.

He lowers his eyes from the vaulted ceiling to her. “Yes, thank you so much for having us, Eliza. I appreciate it.”

“I’m glad you could come. Come on, everyone’s in the den.”

She motions for us to follow her.

She takes us downstairs to a finished basement where a group of people are gathered around a theater type screen watching a football game.

“Meadows.” Ansel stands when he spots me, his eyes immediately going to my brother. “And, uh, Sage.” He walks around the people, careful not to trip over any legs. “Glad you guys could come.”

“I’ll be finishing things up,” Eliza says and heads back up the stairs.

I look around at all the people, strangers except for Mrs. Kline. It’s funny how seeing her outside of school feels odd and uncomfortable, but it’s never felt that way with Lachlan.

“Thanks for inviting us,” I say, elbowing Sage again, but this time for a completely different reason.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Ansel introduces us to his family, including his father Gaspard.

Once all the introductions are made, Ansel shoves his hands into the pockets of his brown dress pants. “I wanted to give you a tour.” Ansel addresses me and Sage harrumphs, rolling his eyes.

“Sage,” I bite out, since he promised he’d be on his best behavior.

“If it’s a problem…” Ansel trails off.

Sage narrows his eyes on my friend. “A tour, only a tour, and no fucking bedrooms. I will squash your tiny pea-sized teenage boy nuts if you think about even touching my sister.”

Ansel gulps.

“It’s Thanksgiving, Sage,” I groan, my cheeks coloring at his statement.

Sage sighs. “Go, but if you’re gone longer than twenty minutes I’ll hunt your ass down.”

“Oh my God.” I grab Ansel’s hand, to get away from Sage, but when my brother’s eyes narrow dangerously I quickly release my hold.

Before Sage can protest Ansel and I head upstairs. He gives me a quick tour of the middle level, then leads me to the second story. “Your brother said no bedrooms, but…” He trails off with a shrug, swinging a door open.

His room is exactly what I’d expect for Ansel. Canvases litter the space, sketches taped to the walls, and art supplies everywhere. His bed is low to the floor with a long black headboard. The two windows, with a dresser in-between, look out onto the front yard. The hardwood floor is covered in a large white rug that’s speckled with paint.

I spin in a circle with a smile on my face. “I love it. It’s very you.”

“It’s kind of simple.” He rubs the back of his head.

I stop in front of him. “It’s perfect.”

He gives me a crooked grin. Stepping forward until only a foot of space separates us. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but you look beautiful.”