Unraveling You (Unraveling You 1)

Finally, we all file inside the house and I breathe freely again as he stops focusing on me and instead zeros in on his new home.

Lila starts giving him a tour of the house while Ethan leads the other three rugrats into the kitchen with my dad.

I start to go with my dad, but my mom captures me by the back of my shirt and tows me back to her. “Let’s go with them.” She nods at Lila and Ayden as they ascend the stairway.

I scrunch up my nose as I recollect Ayden’s intense, depressing stare. “Do I have to? He looks so sad, and his staring is making me uncomfortable.”

“All the more reason to spend time with him.” She signals for me to get a move on. I reluctantly obey, but stand as far behind as I can without looking too antisocial.

Luckily, Ayden seems more engrossed with the home and his room than me. He doesn’t even glance my way as he takes in each wall, piece of furniture, and framed pictures. But when we all gather around the table for dinner, he ends up sitting across from me, and the stare down begins again.

I attempt to avoid his gaze as he watches me pick at my salad. As I chow down on my burger. As I chat with Fiona about her art obsession. The longer the staring goes on, the squirrelier I become, until I can’t take it anymore.

Throwing my napkin onto the table, I slump back in the chair, cross my arms, and stare at him in the same manner.

At first, he appears unfazed, but as the minutes tick by, he starts to look almost amused.

Interesting.

Without removing his eyes from me, he picks up his drink and guzzles a long swallow. I do the same. We simultaneously place our glasses down. He pauses then drums his fingers on the table, either testing me or playing with me … I’m still not sure yet.

Intrigued, I thrum my fingers, too.

He fiddles with the small black and red gauge in his left ear. I only have one piercing in each of mine and no earrings in right now, but I still pretend to mess around with an invisible gauge.

He rolls his tongue across his teeth, the smallest trace of a ghost smile emerging. I feel like I’ve won a game and delve forward, determined to make that sadness crack.

“Oh, Lyric, let me play, too!” Fiona clasps her hands together as she kneels up on her chair. “Pretty please. I’ve never had a brother to play copycat with before. Kale and Everson always get so angry.”

I smirk at Ayden then turn to her. “I think Ayden would love to play with you.” I rise from the table, take my dirty dishes to the sink, and sneak outside to get some fresh air.

As I’m sitting on the curb in front of the house with my legs stretched out, I catch Ayden gawking at me through his upstairs bedroom window. I tip my head to the side, wondering just how long this whole staring thing is going to last. He hasn’t even spoken a word yet.

Maybe he doesn’t speak.

“Lyric!” my mother suddenly shouts, and I tear my attention away from the window. She’s exiting the house with Lila, both of them elated about something. “Ready to go out on a drive with us?”

“Surely durely.” I stand up and brush the dirt off the backs of my legs then start to follow them to my house when Lila glances back at me.

“Lyric, would you mind running up and telling Ayden to come with us?” she asks, hopeful. “He seems a little nervous except when he’s around you.”

My brows furrow. “He hasn’t even said a word to me, so how do you arrive at that conclusion?”

“Well, you two were playing that little staring contest game at the table.” She adjusts the pale pink strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. “I would really appreciate it, sweetie.”

My Aunt Lila is way too nice to argue with, so I reel around to go get Ayden, but then halt before I reach the front steps.

“Aunt Lila, does Ayden … talk?” I dare ask, facing her again.

“Of course, sweetie. He’s just a little nervous. Things have been hard for him, and I think he’s feeling a little overwhelmed.”

She turns to my mom and starts telling her about the countless foster families he grew up in and that he has some problems.

“He’s been through so much,” she says with a disheartened sigh, pressing her hand to her chest. “And still has so much to face in the future.”

I stop to listen, but when my mom shoots me a death glare, I hurry into the house and up the stairs to Ayden’s bedroom.

His door is wide open and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a duffel bag on the floor. He looks so morose that I feel kind of sorry for him. What has this boy been through?

“You’re supposed to come downstairs and go on a drive,” I announce as I waltz into the room.

He jumps, startled as his attention darts up to me. He doesn’t reply. Simply just stares again.

“I know it sounds really lame.” I wander around, observing all the knickknacks Lila put up—sports and band posters, little painted blocks with quotes on them, books on the shelf. It’s like she didn’t know what he was into, so she just decorated the room with a bit of everything. “It’s pretty fun, though. They drive fast and stuff.”

He still doesn’t utter a word. Just looks at me.

I face the bed and assess him while he studies me back. His head is tilted just enough that his black hair dangles in his grey eyes, so I don’t have a clear view of how he’s looking at me. He appears uneasy, though, fidgeting with a bracelet on his wrist.

Finally, I can’t take the silence anymore. Even though I know I might get in trouble for doing it, if he chooses to tell on me, I march to the bed and stand right in front of him.

When he angles his head back to look at me, his eyes are filled with confusion. I poke him in the side of the ribs, hard enough that he flinches and his body jolts.

“What the hell?” He gapes at me as he cradles his side.

“Ha!” I cry, pointing a finger at him. “You do know how to speak.”

His lips part in astonishment. “Of course I know how to speak.”

“No, of course you know how to stare. Speaking was getting a little questionable. Either you couldn’t speak or you were just shy, but I needed to find out.”

He has no clue how to respond to my colorful personality—most people don’t in the beginning.

Feeling a little on the adventurous side, I snatch ahold of Ayden’s hand and drag him to his feet. “Come on, shy boy.” I pull him with me as I march out of the room and downstairs. “The longer we stay up here, the longer this night is going to drag on.”

He follows me a lot easier than I expected him to, holding onto my hand, maybe too tightly, as if he’s terrified out of his wits.

“I thought you said driving with them was fun?” he questions. “So why would you want the night to end so soon?”

“The driving part is fun,” I assure him as I throw open the front door. The cool breeze kisses my skin and it smells like leaves and grass. “But the movie thing at the end is painful to endure. We always have to watch a kid appropriate movie. Either a cartoon or something rated PG.” I glance back at him. “Although, maybe because you’re older, they’ll let us watch something cooler.”

“Maybe I like cartoons and PG movies,” he counters, holding my gaze as he slides his hand from mine and folds his arms across his chest.

“Do you?”

“Not really. I just wanted to make a point. You shouldn’t make assumptions. Maybe I’m a kid at heart who likes kid movies.”

“You know what, Ayden? I think you and I might be good friends, if you’re lucky.” I snatch his hand again and tug him around the fence and up the driveway toward the open garage of my house. “Although, you still have to pass the music quiz.”

“Music quiz?” he asks, distracted by my mother’s black and red 1969 GTO parked in the garage next to my dad’s 1969 Chevelle SS, staring at both of them in awe, like most guys do.

“Yeah. Music. As in instruments and lyrics and stuff. I might not be able to be friends with you if you like some of that cliché pop music t

hey always play on the radio.”

He cocks a brow at me. “Do I look like someone who’s into that kind of music?”

I release his hand as we near the car then smirk at him. “Well, my initial assumption would be a no, but you told me not to make assumptions.”