Page 7 of For the Fans

I just don’t understand why this is even necessary…

My parents have been divorced for three years. My father has dated women, I know he has. I mean, he doesn’t tell me about it, but I know it’s happening. He goes out for the night, dressed in a suit, and usually doesn’t come home until after I’m already asleep.

But that’s just it. I don’t give a shit if he wants to date women. He could fuck his way around the entire Greater Boston Area for all I care.

What Idon’twant to deal with is having to meet the broads he’s sleeping with. He should just keep it to himself. Why put me through some forced awkward dinner with this woman and her son?What’s the point??

My mind flits to my mother while I strip out of my clothes and get redressed in dinner attire. She remarried six months after the divorce was final, and got pregnant only a few months after that. Elena Harbor is now Elena Harbor-McLaughlin. She lives in Cambridge with her husband, Paul, and my half-sister, Paige, who I’ve only met once.

I never see my mom anymore, which makes sense. She couldn’t get out of their marriage fast enough. It was like shewas itching to escape from him… and me. And the memories of…everything. How fast it all deteriorated…

Closing my eyes, I rub them hard with my fingers, causing spots in my vision. Reaching for my phone, I open the camera and aim it at myself, posing for the perfect shirtless selfie. While I don’t plan on posting this one, I still take the picture. And I stare at it afterward, for minutes on end. Examining myself, frame and physique.

I’m in good shape. I have to be, what with football and all. My eyes take in the image of myself on the screen… Dirty blonde hair, perfectly swept back by my fingers, skin slightly tanned from the sun of summer’s beginning.

I blink over and over at the guy looking back at me as my heart’s rapid thumps steady back into a normal rhythm.

“That’s you,” I whisper.

“Kyran!” Dad’s voice shouts from downstairs, and I flinch myself back to reality.

“Coming!”

Slipping into my button-down, I tuck my phone away in my pocket, take one last look in the mirror, and leave my bedroom.

I’m sure my father is hosting this stupid dinner as yet another image boost for himself. It doesn’tmeananything…

But in the back of my mind, as I descend the stairs, watching him open the door and greet some stranger, I know it’s more than that.

My mother got remarried… She has a new baby, a new family. A new life.

In his eyes, shewon. And he can’t have that.

“Hello, beautiful,” my father says with a smile to a short, dark-haired woman.

Beautiful?? Okay, that’s… gross.

He kisses her cheek, then motions for her to come inside, which she does, all the while smiling back at him. I already don’tlike how they’re looking at each other. But I’m distracted from the sickening sight of my father swooning over some new lady when a tall kid with dark hair just like hers steps inside behind her.

I’m immediately frozen in scowl on the second to last step.

“Thomas, I’d like you to meet my son, Avi.” The woman gestures to the dude, who looks to be my age, same height, similar build… maybe a little slimmer.

She peeks at him, and his mouth twists into a visibly nervous grin as he extends his hand to my father.

“Very nice to meet you, Avi.” My dad shakes the kid’s hand. “And please, just call me Tom.”

“Okay…” The guy—Avi—appears to be assessing my father, a protective gaze sliding over him, up and down, while he stands close to his mother. “Tom.” His mother elbows him, and he grunts. “Uh, nice to meet you…. also.”

My brow furrows.Who is this dude?? He seems kind of like an idiot.

“Kyran,” my father says my name in his normal stern brogue, which has me hesitantly stomping off the final steps and over to them. “This is Hannah Vega, and her son, Avi.” He shoots me a look, and I straighten, holding out my hand.

“Hi,” I mutter, miserable and not really able to hide it. “Kyran. Nice to meet you both.”

“Hello, Kyran.” Hannah smiles while shaking my hand. And as much as I hate to admit it, she seems nice. Her voice is soft and melodious, and sheisbeautiful. Olive skin and long, dark hair. Mediterranean look. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Her pearly white teeth almost blind me, as does her pleasantness. But when I release her hand and turn to her son, for some reason, all I feel is hostility.