Page 5

The meeting with Sebastian's parents was hard enough. Hopefully the rest of the family is friendlier.

I pull up into the Duvalls' posh neighborhood. Their street is lined with cars. How am I supposed to find a place to park? In the driveway sits an Audi, a Mercedes, a BMW, and a Range Rover.

Who are these people?

Not one to compete, I bust a U-turn and take my nineteen-year-old rust bucket of an Oldsmobile around the corner to park.

Even though I'd literally die if anyone saw me getting in or out of this trap in this neighborhood, I have to admit this car gets the job done.

With some strong-arming and finagling, I manage to get the driver's door open.

As soon as I'm out, I step away, putting a little distance between myself and the car door.

Taking a deep breath, I leap forward, thrusting my weight onto the creaky door.

It's the only way to get the door to stay shut.

The barbecue started over an hour ago. And nerves or not, I'm still groggy from the all-nighter I pulled at the club. The anxiety alone should be enough to zing me awake but I'm fried. Last night was the worst. That guy in my VIP section. Cringy!

Somebody please, before I meet these wonderful people, hook me up to the nearest caffeine IV drip. I'll take it straight into my fattest vein, coffee grounds and all.

I straighten out my hair and outfit as I hurriedly walk towards the Duvalls' house. Their home is gorgeous and huge. At two stories high, it's all brick, has immaculately sculpted landscaping, and an oversized oak door with the family crest carved into the wood.

Who does that?

What if they want to discuss family history? I don't know much, beyond my great-grandmother on my mother's side. And the only thing I know about my father's side of the family is that it exists.

Sebastian did not tell me it would be like this. "Just a casual barbecue with a few close friends and family," he said.

There are more than a "few" people here, and now, after seeing all these fancy luxury cars, I'm not so sure about the "casual" part either.

My heart pumps ferociously.

Here goes.

I press the doorbell. An elegant melody chimes from within the house.

What didn't they think of?

Standing close enough to take in the details of this stunning home, it's clear my mom's house is nothing like this. Can't even come close.

A girl comes to the door. She looks to be barely in her teens with long black hair, big dark brown eyes, and adorable braces. She smiles at me as a variety of delicious home-cooked aromas escape and rush out to greet my nose. There's music, chatter, and laughter in the background.

"Hey girl, hey!" I smile, excited to meet a family member other than his disapproving mother. "I'm here for the barbecue. I'm Aria Davenport, Sebastian's girlfriend. Is he here yet, by any chance?"

A puzzled look comes over her face, then fades into a forced smile. She gives me an odd look and the sensation that I don't belong suddenly seizes me.

I follow her eyes and look down at my wardrobe.

Comparing us two, one of us is not like the other.

She stands before me in a cheerful floral sundress.

While I'm on the outside looking in, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and jean shorts.

I stand out. And not in the way I intend to.

I mean, jean shorts. What was I thinking?

You weren't.

Why on earth did Sebastian tell me this was casual?

This isn't on him, it's on you. Leave and change.

As I turn to leave, a voice from inside asks, "Leila, who is it? Welcome them in!"

I'm caught like a deer in headlights.

"Hi. Um...yes. Come in. He's in the great room." Her expression is one of embarrassment for me. I flush. Then I remember she's barely a teen, probably a tweener, so I dismiss her.

What does she know?

I walk past her cloud of judgment and enter the foyer with my head held high.

Great room, huh?

I've only heard of those rooms in home decorating magazines.

On entering the great room, I'm swept away by the grand staircase, shiny mahogany hardwood floors, and the stunning glass chandelier.

My heart thuds loudly in my chest. My palms are sweating.

I survey the room looking for Sebastian.

I can use an anchor right now, someone to vouch for me.

Everyone is dressed in proper, yuppie attire.

Everyone, except me. They shouldn't have called this a barbeque.

It's more like an exclusive meeting at a private social club.

All the girls are wearing sundresses—that fall below the knees —with shrugs or cardigans draped over their shoulders.

If I had dressed the way I did when I met his parents at brunch, I'd fit right in, here!

And who wears a cardigan in this weather?

The guys are in khaki pants or shorts and polos. Not a single person is wearing a jean anything, let alone a T-shirt. I'm feeling exposed and seriously out of place.

I spot Sebastian in the corner having an animated conversation with a group that's around our age. Thank God! They look like they're having a good time and I want to join them. If only for social proof.

No, I'm not toxic, just out the loop. But that's about to change, right now.

Smiling widely and dancing to the music, I bob and weave, making my way through the crowded room and find myself standing right behind him. Excited to see him since it's been a few days, I lean in and hug him from behind hoping he turns around in surprise.

I whisper in his ear, "Hey stranger, where have you been?"

His shoulders tense up. His back straightens. Grabbing both my hands, he removes them from his chest and throws them down to his sides. Almost, dare I say, angrily? Immediately, I'm super embarrassed. My cheeks grow hot.

"Hey you! Miss me?" I ask with a warm, yet puzzled smile.

He turns around as if I am the last person he wants to see. The smile he was clearly wearing when I arrived, is replaced with a scowl. Reminiscent of his Dear Mother. He's far from happy to see me. He rubs the back of his head, as he looks down at the cream-and-burgundy oriental rug.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask concerned.

"And you're here because?" he whispers, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"Baby, you know why I'm here." I look around nervously.

Has anyone noticed? The people in his immediate circle are still chatting amongst themselves.

"You invited me, remember?" I whisper, nodding yes, trying to get him to agree.

But he doesn't nod back in agreement, this time he looks at me.

And immediately I wish he hadn't. His eyes are cold, like his mother's.

This isn't my Sebastian. What's happened since we met at brunch? He was fine when I left him.

He places his balled-up fists in the pockets of his khaki shorts. "Really, Aria? You show up here? After what you did?" He looks around at the partygoers as he snaps at me with muted aggressiveness.

"I did something to you?" I frown. "Maybe we should take this outside?" I pretend to laugh as I reach for his arm and head for the door.

"Get your hands off me!" he hisses before snatching his arm away. The people in his immediate circle turn our way. They all look serious and just as concerned as I am.

I concede, taking a deep breath with my hands up.

And like a negotiator, I attempt to talk him down from the ledge.

"We can talk here but quietly please," I whisper as my eyes dart from stranger to stranger.

"What's going on? Don't you think you should've mentioned this before I showed up?

" Panic creeps up the back of my neck and a burning sensation rises in my chest as if I'm running the last leg of a long marathon.

Each breath feels more and more labored.

"I called you last night and left a message.

If there was a problem, you should've called me back.

Instead of letting me walk into this...this —"

"—Why do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Obviously, I don't have a clue!" I manage to say through clenched teeth. "I was with you last week. You told me to come here and meet your family. I went to work yesterday. Home after. Woke up. Came here. Now you're like this! You're freaking me out."

I think back. Nothing worth noting comes to mind. Did his mother do this? Is he talking about work at the club? He knows the environment I work in. It's never been a problem before...

"You're acting all innocent. . . I saw you last night. . ." He goes on, ignoring everything I just said.

My cheeks flush. Last night?