Forevermore

Ten

A knock on the door interrupts my peaceful nap–and my blissful dream. I was just about to go to that restaurant with Hayden Christensen when we get rudely interrupted.

"Who is it?" I yell, my voice drenched with tiredness. When I open my eyes, though, I remember that I'm not at home.

The door opens and my dad stares at his phone as he stands in the doorway. "We're ordering food, what do you want?"

I sit up, realizing my wet hair from the shower I took after swimming left moisture on my pillow. And Ezra's side of the bed too. I hope he doesn't mind.

"What is everyone else getting?" I ask.

"Ezra and I are getting Panera. Lucas is getting Panda. Levi and Malachi are getting Chipotle."

"I'll just get my usual from Panda."

After nodding, he swipes on his phone for a moment before putting it in his pocket. "Come out and socialize. I don't want you holed up in the room all evening."

"I'm fine," I say. "I prefer being alone."

When his feet remain planted in the doorway and his expression turns blank, I know it's no use fighting.

My feet fall to the ground and I leave with him. Only, as I turn towards the living room, he disappears from my periphery. "Dad?" I ask, turning around.

"I'm just getting something from my room," he says.

As appealing as it sounds to go back into the bedroom, my dad doesn't ask much from me, so the few things he does, I feel the need to listen.

Once I get in the living room, I stand in the doorway, looking for a place to sit.

Levi and Lucas are on the two lounge chairs across from the couch. Malachi and Ezra are on the couch.

As quiet as I can be, I enter the room and sit beside Ezra. His forearms are resting on his legs and he leans forward, seemingly very engaged in the conversation.

Once I sit, I pull my legs onto the couch and cross them almost subconsciously–a force of habit, I guess. And I must've misjudged how much space is on this couch, because my knee ends up making contact with his thigh.

I don't move, and all he does is sit back, putting his arms on the back of the couch. I look over at him and we make eye contact for a split second before I look at my brother, who seems very...passionate about what he's speaking about.

"Bro. You can't lose without getting punished," Lucas says.

My eyebrows furrow as I try to figure out what they're talking about.

"I know," Ezra replies. "But what if we just didn't, since we can't seem to agree on anything."

"No," Levi says. "You lose, you get a punishment."

I tilt my head. Punishment?

"I feel like posting embarrassing videos is a punishment though," Ezra replies. Through my periphery, I see him shrug.

They shake their heads simultaneously, and that's when Malachi joins in. "How about this? The winners choose a bad tattoo that the losers have to get."

We all turn to look at him and he sticks his hands up. "What? It raises the stakes."

"Dude," Ezra says.

The two guys across from us burst out into laughter. When Ezra turns back, I tap him on the shoulder.

He faces me, his eyebrows slightly raising. "Hey."

"Hi," I say. "What are you guys talking about?"

His lips pull into a small grin. "Fantasy football punishments."

I'm not a huge football person, but I know enough for the conversation to now make sense. One time when my brother's team did badly in his fantasy football league, he was sentenced to five-minute-long cold plunges for an entire month. That was absolutely hilarious to witness.

I nod slowly. "Right."

My attention returns back to the fact that my knee is touching his thigh. I must be severely touch-starved to take such note over the little contact.

Then again, I've never gone further than eye contact with men. In the past, that's been due to my fear of rejection. Now, it's because of the fact that I genuinely can't be in a relationship if I want to keep up my grades and become a successful artist.

"I'm sorry if I made you mad earlier," he says, leaning his head slightly forward.

My eyes narrow. "When did you make me mad?"

"When I pushed you in the pool."

I tip my head back when I remember my swim earlier. Swimming definitely helped with my stress, and out of everything I remembered about our conversation, him pushing me after is the least significant to me.

"I have a younger brother," I tell him. "Being pushed into a pool–while I was in a swimsuit, mind you–is far from the worst thing that someone has done to me."

He lets out a soft laugh. "Yeah, Lucas can be a little much sometimes."

I grimace, memories of my childhood with my little brother resurfacing. "I'm surprised I don't have some type of trauma from all the things he's put me through."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Surprise courses through me. "Like what?" I repeat his question.

"Yeah. What did he do?"

My eyelashes bat a few times as I stare, dumbfounded. No one outside of my few friends asks me about myself. Wait. Does this make us friends? It would probably be weird if I asked him if we're friends.

"Earth to Indigo." Ezra lightly pats my bare knee with the back of his hand.

It takes me a few seconds to find the words. "It's Indi," I say blandly.

He rests his arm on the back of the couch before responding. "Your name is Indigo too, no?"

"But I don't go by that."

"Why not?" He seems genuinely interested in the nonexistent story of why I don't like being called a color.

"Because it's dumb."

His eyebrows pinch together. "I think it's nice."

I'm not sure how to explain the warmth that floods through me from his words. "Actually?"

He nods. "Actually."

"Huh."

"So what did you get to eat?" His ability to so quickly change the subject is admirable.

"Panda express." I smile, imagining the orange chicken that I'll soon be eating. "And you got Panera, right?"

He nods and as our conversation continues, I get so lost in our words that it feels like no time has passed when the first food arrives.