Not Without You

twenty-two

Aria

The family barbeque is something we do every year. It doesn't have a set date, but there is always is a set amount of people: me, Jax, Benn, Dante, Mom and Dad, Uncle Hainsey and Aunty Emlyn, and then all the grandparents. Sometimes, my step-uncles join in, but this year they're all off doing their own thing. While I do enjoy socializing with them, I'm kind of happy they're not coming this year. It means that there are fewer people for Leo to meet. Somehow, I need to find a way to coax him out of his shell and show him that socializing isn't as scary as he thinks it is. And if that's not possible, if I can't make him see it's not that bad, maybe I can make him a little more comfortable with the concept.

That being said, Leo's late. He was supposed to be here at four and it's now four-thirty. Out of anticipation, I keep checking my watch, wondering when he's going to arrive. Or if he's coming at all. As much as I want him to come, it's his decision in the end and I respect whatever he chooses. I wish he would just call me or text me and let me know because I'm beginning to shy away from the party. If my mind isn't running on thoughts, then I'm making sure the bowl of chips is full and the salsa is still fresh. At one point, I go inside and make another batch of limeade. I'm tempted to fill my own glass with some and spike it with tequila, but I choose otherwise. I've limited myself to two drinks tonight because I have a training session tomorrow morning, and it's not very captain-like to show up hungover.

"How many times this summer am I going to walk into this kitchen and see you gazing out the window like a lost child?" Mom jokes as she steps into the kitchen, an empty bowl in her hands.

I shrug as I take a sip of my limeade. "I don't know," I reply. Even to my own ears, my voice sounds distant. "Maybe you should keep track. Write it in a book or something."

Mom chuckles, patting me on the shoulder. "Just as lippy as your father was. Why did I ever expect otherwise? Sweetheart, Leo's going to show up. Stop worrying about him."

I tap my bottom lip with my pointer finger, glancing, yet again, out the window. It's pointless because all you can see from the kitchen window is the neighbour's house. "I just really want him to join us," I reply. Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. I never told Leo that my parents now know about us. I glance back at Mom. "If he does show up, don't say anything about the two of us dating, okay? He doesn't know that I've told you and Dad yet."

"Of course," Mom replies, extracting large container of cut-up watermelon from the fridge. I watch as she fills up the bowl, the fresh scent of watermelon saturating the air. I take a deep breath. I've always loved watermelon. It, along with the scent of sunscreen and barbeque and freshly cut grass, has always reminded me of summer. It also tastes delicious, which is why I reach out and grab a handful. The juices run down my forearm, dripping from my elbow and to the floor.

"You're making a mess," Mom says.

I shrug, stuffing a couple of pieces into my mouth, savouring the fresh sweetness on my tongue. "Think of it as my way to relax," I joke.