The vacation home that Brian and Michelle apparently owned isn’t as big as our house back up in Washington, but it was still pretty big. Its view of the San Francisco Bay from the living room window was absolutely breathtaking, and if it weren’t for the fact that we had dinner reservations in less than an hour since we arrived, I probably would’ve sat and stared at it for hours.

I’m surprised I was able to find something nice to pack for the weekend – luckily, one of the dresses that Michelle had insisted on buying me is one of the first things I pull out. It’s a thin, black number, and probably one of the nicest dresses I’ve ever owned, that I’ve actually looked forward to wearing. I have never been much of a skirts person, so finding a dress that I actually like was always a challenge that she appeared to have dominated.

I stare at my reflection in the vanity mirror in one of the guest rooms – there was exactly enough bedrooms in the house for everyone to have their own. I’ve never been big on makeup – in fact, often the most I’d ever worn was a little lip-gloss and maybe some mascara. So why did I have a whole bag full of it – and why did I bother bringing it with me up here when I had no idea how to use half of it?

I pick up a small bottle of black liquid that has the word “eyeliner” printed across the front. Shaking it slightly, I can’t help but wonder how on earth I was supposed to use this. Was I supposed to paint it across my upper eyelid? And how much did I use? What about my bottom eyelid – how the hell am I supposed to get it on there without getting it all over my eyeball? Didn’t they invent pencils for these things?

“Need help?”

I jump, just noticing Michelle standing in the doorway. I smile sheepishly; she looks absolutely gorgeous in the blue dress she had brought with her. I wish I could describe it better, but I had no clue what the difference between a ‘v-neck’ and a ‘sweetheart neck-line’ was – or if those terms even applied.

Nodding, she walks over, somehow not tripping over the six-inch silver heels she was wearing with the dress.

“You look confused,” she points out, and I giggle nervously.

“I don’t really wear makeup,” I admit, and she smiles.

“That’s good; you don’t really need much…” She picks up one of the brushes that went with one of the eye-shadow sets and brushes it across my eyelids. In a matter of minutes, I go from looking plain and ordinary to… well, stunning.

She had given me a smoky-eye that seemed to go well with my eye-color as well as my dress – no eyeliner was needed (thank god). As for my lips, she had put just a light gloss on them that somehow made them look fuller than normal.

“Thank you,” I breathe. “It looks really good.” I turn and give her a hug; she squeezes me lightly.

“No problem, hon,” she mutters before pulling away. “We better get downstairs before Brian flips out.”

Gus is the first to notice my transformation as I follow Michelle down the stairs. He raises an eyebrow at me, but I ignore him – whatever she had done to my makeup was making me really happy and confident.

“What happened to your eyes?” he asks me when I stop in front of him, still looking at me funny. I place my hands on my hips and glare at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retort. “I happen to like it.”

“I’m not saying I don’t like it,” he replies defensively. “I’m just saying you look… different.” I continue to glare at him.

“For god’s sake – where’s Brian?” Michelle exclaims. Right then, he comes stumbling down the stairs, adjusting his collar as he does so. She just rolls her eyes. “Honestly, you spend more time on your hair than I do.” He just sends her a playful glare.

“Are we ready to go?” His eyes land on mine. “Your eyes look nice.” I can’t help but smile widely at this. Michelle runs a motherly hand through my hair, which causes me to smile even wider – if that was even possible. Brian returns the gesture, kissing his wife on the cheek and leading us back outside where the rental car is waiting.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up in front of an expensive-looking restaurant. I gulp slightly – immediately the idea of figuring out which fork to use for what course of what meal does not sound appealing in the slightest.

Inside, we are seated almost immediately, which must have been what Brian had been talking about earlier when he had said something about reservations. And sure enough, there’s more than one fork to choose from.

“Do you guys do this often?” I whisper to Brian, who is sitting next to me. He laughs.

“Hell no,” he replies. “We just do it every once in a while, for fun.”

“What’s so fun about being unsure of what fork to eat with?” He laughs again, causing Gus to look at us questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo; no one’s going to care if you use the wrong one.”

Except me.

I try to look like I’m studying the menu – like I actually care which dish of the fancy, overpriced food I consume. Eventually, I being to feel overwhelmed with the choices it’s giving me, so I set it down, excusing myself to use the restroom.

I study my reflection in the mirror for a moment. The dress I had put on before coming here was beginning to feel less and less special, and instead appeared to me as nothing but a piece of fabric that I was being forced to wear. And as for my makeup – it almost looked a bit overdone.

As soon as I step out of the bathroom, not five minutes later, I bump into someone, sending me falling to the ground.

“Autumn?” they exclaim, and my eyes widen; I look up to see who it is.

“Dillon!” He offers me a hand and pulls me up effortlessly. I wrap my arms tightly around his midsection and he hugs me back. “What are you doing here?” He gives me a funny look.

“I said I was going to be in San Francisco for the weekend,” he tells me. “In the chat-group?” I frown.

“I’m sorry; I haven’t been able to check in a while.” I slide out my phone, attempting to turn it back on from when I turned it off before the plane ride, but it appears to be dead.

“How are things going with your mom and dad?” he asks me; I realize that I haven’t told him all too much about our mother, or that I was currently not on speaking terms with either Matt or Gus.

“Things are a bit messy right now,” I admit, brushing a few strands of hair out of my eyes.

“What do you mean?” he leans against the wall, and I do the same, leaning on the one across from him.

“He won’t tell me about my mother. And apparently it isn’t the woman he’s supposedly been with since high school.”

“Well, do you know why?” I shake my head, the tears I’ve been holding in all week starting to build up in my eyes.

“Gus knows,” I tell him quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. “It isn’t fair. Matt seems to favor him over me – ever since we first got to California, he’s always made more of an effort with him than with me.” He nudges my leg with his foot gently, which was easy for him, since he was just barely six feet.

“Hey, I’m sure that’s not true,” he reassures me gently. “I mean, you can be a little bit anti-social sometimes Autumn – maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you because of that?” I shrug.

“I don’t know. All I know is that my brother is keeping secrets from me, because he and Matt think I can’t handle the truth.”

“I’m sure they have their reasons…”

“But she’s my mother, Dillon!” I all but shout. “Don’t I deserve to know?” He sighs, studying me for a moment.

“I don’t know, Autumn. Maybe you should learn the full story before you jump to conclusions.” Angered by the fact that he wasn’t taking my side, I push off the wall and turn to leave. He grabs my arm and pulls me back, hugging me one last time. “It’ll be okay – don’t worry.” He kisses the top of my head.

I begin to walk away, back to where Brian and Michelle are probably waiting for me.

“Oh – Autumn!” I turn around and face him, looking at him expectantly. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

~

Dinner actually didn’t last as long as I feared it would, and the food wasn’t half-bad. And even though Gus and Brian did most of the talking, I really did enjoy listening to their conversations – especially when we started talking about gossip. Basically, this consisted of Gus complaining about Dillon and Annie’s relationship.

“He and Autumn need to get together,” Gus had said jokingly.

“Aw, he’ll come around,” Brian replied. “I mean, Matt and Michelle dated before he finally had the balls to ask out Val.” This caused me to choke on my water – but when I looked over at Brian, he doesn’t seem to be all too serious.

On the way back, I begin to feel a bit achy, and by the time we return, I can tell something’s wrong. Especially when I spend the next twenty minutes locked in my room’s adjoining bathroom, puking my guts out.

Once I’ve taken a shower and gotten changed into the most comfortable pair of pajamas I had brought with me, I slink downstairs, still shaking, to let someone know.

“Matt’s not here to stop you – why don’t you tell her?” Brian’s words make me stop in my tracks. I freeze outside of the kitchen doorway, hiding behind the wall.

“I promised Matt I wouldn’t say anything,” Michelle replies. She sounds on the verge of tears.

“Why would you promise something like that?” he hisses angrily. “After everything he’s done – and you’re just going to letting him control you?” He pauses for a moment, and I hear her sniff slightly. “Baby…” he coos gently. “You have an opportunity to do what’s right. She deserves to know the truth – and you need to be the one to tell her.”

I take their sudden break in the conversation as an opportunity; I step out of my hiding spot. As soon as I clear my throat, Brian pulls away from her, ending their intimate moment.

“What is it, Autumn?” Michelle asks, smiling warmly.

“I’m sick,” I manage to reply; my voice dry and hoarse. She frowns, and Brian straightens slightly.

Michelle walks over, feeling my forehead. The cool touch feels good against my burning skin.

“Why don’t you go lie down?” she says after a moment. “I’ll bring you something in a moment.” I nod gratefully and she pulls me into a warm hug that, in my feverish state, I don’t want to end.

But she pulls away, smoothing down my bright auburn hair, and looking at me lovingly. She kisses my forehead, sending me off.

Upstairs, I pull the duvet tightly around my body, fighting off sleep until Michelle brings me something to help fight off the infection. However this proves to be an impossible feat; soon, I’m drifting off, the various suspicious conversations from today circling around my head…

Notes

A/N: Apparently, I am a lot farther ahead on writing this than I originally thought. There should be no problem updating regularly now.

Hope you all enjoyed =)

~WOLFY~