Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

05 | Fire On Fire

VIERNES
8:01 PM

Reid Harlow

There's apparently a tradition every Friday.

It's a family dinner.

Of course, I wouldn't have known about it, speaking since I've only been here for about a week, but a little notice would've been nice. Instead, on the very afternoon, as I was planning to sneak out to the park to steal a smoke—Presley stops me and tells me we're having dinner.

No arguments.

No getting out of it.

So, here I was. Sitting at the dining table, awkward as hell, as two additional members of the family filled in the seats. Sebastian Godfrey, the patriarch of the house, and Claudia Campbell, the eldest.

I've met Sebastian before, on the very first night when I was issued into this home. However, I haven't seen him much after—having always been told that he was off to the office where he works as a justice lawyer and always coming home late or when I'm not here.

Claudia Campbell, however, is a different story.

She was in grad school, a couple of states away. At the age of twenty-four, she's seeking to become a therapist. I haven't heard many details about her—not caring enough to ask—but from what I'm told, Claudia reigned the top of her class for the majority of her high school career and she continues to hold that title progressing into university.

Six different people. Six different personalities. All somehow ended up at the same place, at the same time.

And they aren't awkward.

The clank of the fork to china was my progressive noise, while the rest of the room was filled with a choir of laughter. Sebastian tells an office story about his time interning at Montgomery & Associates. It was supposedly funny, but I didn't get it. I don't see the point.

I could be out there, grabbing a smoke, instead of being here, feeling more suffocated than ever before.

My leg unconsciously bounces underneath the table. My blue eyes stealing glances at the clock, watching as the hands go round and round. No one seems to notice my eagerness to move from this spot, to leave.

Except for Nico, who sits on my right.

His chair scooted closer to the table, his hands playing with the silverware but he made no effort to eat. Like me. He glances down at my leg a couple of times—which causes me to stop—and returns to meet my gaze. Just a second.

He says nothing.

"Nico," I hear Nini call, causing the green-eyed boy to look away and turn to our foster mother. She meets his gaze in a soft, maternal look and begins to speak in a foreign language. He nods, showing signs that he understood, but I was left clueless on my end. What she spoke, I didn't know, but I'm willing to bet it was Spanish.

"So, Harlow," I hear another girl perk, her voice lower than average. I look up to meet Claudia's brown gaze. She was the only other white person in the room, which didn't ease the tension, but definitely helped me feel like I'm not the only one. She has dark brown hair, styled in a bob, sharp brown eyes and a calculated gaze. "How are you liking it here?"

The entire table turned.

I felt multicolored gazes settle on me, causing me to shift uncomfortably at the intense stare. I almost swore at the fact that Claudia brought me into the conversation—to which I was perfectly happy staying away from—but I held down my tongue.