Chapter 4
Calvin
“Right, some ground rules.” Jay clasps his hands together, leaning against the granite island in the middle of his open-plan kitchen. “Mi casa es su casa, so make yourselves at home, but this place - this is a zen house. This means that while you are staying here, you will respect the zen house rules.” He takes a deep breath in using his hands to demonstrate his inhale. “We are calm here. We don’t cause any trouble and we definitely don’t bicker.”
His eyes shift between Nikita and I. It’s fascinating to me that the two of them are related when they are polar opposites in almost every way. Where Nikita is a firecracker, Jay is cool, calm, and collected. Hence, the reason he and I are such good friends. He has reached a stage in his life where any feelings of stress are incapable of penetrating through his zen exterior. It has taken him years to get to this point and given his history, I do not blame him.
I, on the other hand, am not impervious to stress.
“I think all the pot you smoke has removed your ability to be stressed,” I comment.
“Seems like I made a great life decision with that,” Jay responds.
Nikita scoffs, glancing at her brother. “Careful, your mother is watching you from the big man’s house in the sky.”
“Please, if m?e was here right now, she’d probably ask to have some.”
“She would not.”
“Probably not, but you know pai would.”
Nikita laughs. “I forgot that he’ll do anything for his golden boy, even if it means partaking in this chosen… lifestyle.”
Jay straightens up, eyeing his sister. “You spend so much time in the sky that you forget what happens here on the ground.”
Rolling her eyes, she runs her fingers through her wet hair. When we arrived back at Jay’s house, she was adamant about showering before taking a tour of the place with a strong emphasis on his home studio. Something he was incredibly proud of. She has since joined us downstairs as Jay organizes us all something to drink while we wait for the pizza we ordered.
If I know Jay, which I do, I know that he will have an array of some of the smoother, sweeter whiskeys in his collection. I don’t mind that, but I prefer bourbon, and no, they are not the same thing. While bourbon is a type of whiskey, not all whiskey is bourbon. A conversation I have had many times in the past with people who don’t know the difference. I remember attempting to explain it to Violet who didn’t bother to try and understand.
Don’t think about Violet.
I shake her from my mind and focus on whatever Jay is handing to me. Nikita makes it clear to her brother that she is now a ‘white wine girl’–her description, not mine–which works in her favor since he happens to have a random bottle in his fridge.
“Any more rules I need to be aware of?” she questions, pulling a black hoodie over her body. I can admit that I allow my eyes to linger over her for a moment longer than I probably should have. It’s difficult to miss the curves of her body and the way her small pair of shorts barely leave anything to the imagination. She is all legs, even though she is way shorter than me, only reaching just above my chest. She is short, but don’t be mistaken—she is dynamite: explosive, messy, loud.”
She is beautiful though. Even now, as she stands there with her thick, curly dark hair wet from the shower and not an inch of make-up on her face, she is still a beauty. The kind that will have you doing a double-take if you pass her.
Too bad she has to ruin it by opening her mouth.
“No smoking in the house.”
“You’re smoking in the house.” Nikita points out as her brother brings a joint to rest between his lips, lighting it up.
“My house, my rules.”
“You sound just like our mother,” Nikita chuckles as she rolls her eyes.
Jay looks pleased with himself. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to use that line on someone.”
“Does vaping count?”
I roll my eyes at her question. “Oh God, don’t tell me you vape.”
She walks around to the other side of the kitchen island, grabbing her glass of wine. Sending daggers my way in her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t. I was just curious.”
“Even vape, Kita,” Jay jumps in, stopping our interaction. “No smoking in the house, unless you’re smoking with me.” He extends his hand with the joint, offering it to us, at the same time we shake our heads to decline. “No food in the rooms, please. I have an ant problem. The WiFi password is on the fridge but it’s my birthday so both of you should know that.”
I sip on my whiskey, distinctly recognizing the sweeter taste on my tongue. Surprisingly, it isn’t a bad alternative.
“And lastly, the two of you need to stay away from each other.”
“Of course,” I say just as Nikita responds. “Not a problem.”
“I don’t want any rom-com, forced-proximity shit happening between the two of you.” Jay points between us with a look of seriousness on his face.
I burst out laughing. “Jay, seriously? Your sister and I?”
This time Nikita bursts out laughing - her laughter is far more boisterous than it needs to be, but I can understand the sheer ridiculousness of that statement.
That is absolutely not something that Jay has to worry about.
“I would not touch Calvin if he was the last man on earth,” Nikita states in between her laughter.
I nod in agreement. “If the fate of the world rested on the two of us repopulating the earth, humanity would be fucked.”
It appears that the only similarity Nikita and I share is our flair for the dramatics. Seriously, her and I? No fucking way. There is a certain amount of chaos that follows Nikita Da Silva, in many different ways. I have worked hard to avoid any type of interaction with chaos. Watching your father get arrested in front of you when you were barely a teenager, while witnessing your mother having a complete mental breakdown was enough for one person. I had vowed to steer clear of anything remotely resembling chaos.
I think I can actually get on board with Jay’s zen way of life, if only I had the strength and patience for it.
“Whatever.” Jay takes a sip of his drink and turns to his sister. “I can’t believe this is the first time you’re seeing the place.”
As she brings her wine glass to her lips, she nods. “I know. The last time I saw you, you still lived in Miami. And you had a roommate.”
“Now, he has you,” I remark dryly.
She glares at me, her hazel-brown eyes narrowing with annoyance. It is a look I have seen many times from her. It has become amusing to me - a game if you will - to see how many times she will send a reaction like that my way.
“Kita, you can take the guest room. Cal, sorry, but you’re moving to the sleeper couch unless you want to share a bed with this one over here.” Jay gestures to his sister.
“Uh-uh,” Nikita comments, our sentences overlapping again as I say, “No, thank you.”
I can only imagine how difficult it would be to share a room with someone like Nikita. Never mind a bed.
Jay glances between the two of us and chuckles. “Good. We’ll sort out the sleeper couch in my studio for you.”
That is the one room in the house that Jay was most proud of. He loves having his own studio, and since he works in sports journalism and content creation, a home studio is a requirement. From the first moment I met Jay twelve years ago, it was made clear that he’s obsessed with soccer. Or rather, football, as he keeps correcting me and the whole of America.
He doesn’t talk much about his accident, but it ended his career of going pro. Instead, he was forced to divert his path in life.
Enter sports journalism. That was what he majored in. The content creation side of things came much later, but he transitioned into that space like a natural. Boasting well over three hundred thousand followers across various platforms, he was en route to becoming one of the top journalists in the country. His move to San Francisco was for the new role he had taken up with Soccer Sphere, one of the biggest broadcasters in the US covering the English Royal League - the biggest league in the world.
My phone buzzes against the counter and I place my glass down. Jay and Nikita continue to chat away as I check my notifications to preview the text.
My stomach drops as Violet’s name appears across my screen.
I swipe far too eagerly to see what she has to say.
Hi Cal, just wanted to let you know that I changed my flight. I’m flying in with Julia a day later. I know we were supposed to go together, but given our situation, I think this would be best.
Hope you’re doing okay. Xxx.
I read over the message again before reaching for my drink, downing what’s left of it. I can’t even be mad at her. The last thing I want to do is sit through a twelve-hour flight with my ex-girlfriend next to me.
I really need to find a date.
Immediately.