Page 35 of The Plan

“You guys are staying over, right?” I shake my head, and I rest my head back on the cabinet as Sire walks in.

“Yes, you are.” God, he is so demanding today.

I pull my phone out from my bra and look at the time. 4:56 am.Shit. It was just one like twenty minutes ago. “Well, Lis and I can take the couch, and the couples can share the rooms.” I go still, and we all stare at Sage.

She looks between the four of us and then shrugs. “What?”

“We’re not dating,” I say, and Sire looks at me, but I can’t tell why. He holds my gaze, and he looks annoyed by what I said, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he walks over to Lisette, who’s still sleeping at the table, and picks her up like she weighs nothing and literally drops her onto the couch.

She wakes up and swings her hand back, punching him in the stomach. I laugh as they hit each other a few more times, but I feel my head starting to hurt, so I pull my hair tie off, letting my hair loose, then hop off the counter and grab my water bottle.

“Okay, well, then the boys can share a room, and Hazel and V can share another. Either way, I call the couch.” The couchisreally comfortable. Damn, I should have called it.

Walking out of the kitchen, I trip over one of Sage’s heels, and an arm loops around my hip to steady me. When I look up, my eyes lock with Sire’s. “Come on.” Too tired to argue, I follow him into his room and fall on my back onto his bed.

“Wow. Your bed is a lot more comfortable than the couch.” I think for a second, then add, “Why don’t we ever nap in here?”

I hear his dresser opening, and then clothes fall on my face. “Because you never want to sleep in here.” True, but that’s because taking naps in his bed seems much more intimate than on the couch. Don’t question my logic. It makes sense.

I move his shirt from my face so he can hear me as I talk. “Since I’m super tired, we can finish arguing tomorrow.” I’m looking up at his ceiling when I hear him reply.

“I don’t want to argue tomorrow.”

“Well, I don’t want to argue right now, so apologize, or you can sleep on the couch with your sisters.” When I hear him laughing, I lean on my elbows so he can see my face. Once he does, his laugh is cut short.

“I’m sorry.” That’s it? I give him a look, and he turns more sincere. “I really am sorry, Vid. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was just worried, but I won’t do it again.” I roll my eyes, and he lets out a sigh in defeat.

“Vid… ”

I look back over at him again and everything in me is telling me not to bring this up. Not to talk about it, but I’m genuinely exhausted, and I don’t want this fight to drag out. Most of all, I need him to understand this.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do then say youexpectme to listen. It’s controlling as fuck, and I refuse to deal with that. Not after I had to grow up seeing my dad control when my mom did the simplest shit. I won’t tolerate that, Sire.”

He immediately closes the distance and kneels in front of me so we’re at eye level. “I didn’t mean it in a controlling way, but I’m sorry that I made it come out that way. I heard so much fucked up shit the UC Davis guys do and—” He shakes his head. “I would never control anything in your life, Vid.”

I only give him a nod, and he leans forward to kiss my forehead. “It won’t happen again,” he whispers against my hair.

“Promise?”

He pulls away and holds out his pinky. “Promise.” I intertwine my pinky in his, and then we both kiss our thumbs and press them together, locking in the promise.

I sit up against the headboard of the bed, and Sire lays on his stomach next to me. He leans up on his elbow, moving to slowly trace my ribs. “Serenity.” I look down to where he’s rubbing on my red tattoo.

My eyes fall on the tattoo on his arm, and I spot the same word.Serenity.I reach over and trace over the other two words he has in a narcotics sobriety symbol:Courage and Wisdom.

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courageto change the things I can.” He joins me on the last line, “And the wisdom to know the difference.” Our eyes lock, and we give each other a smile that doesn’t reach either of our eyes.

He’s still running his thumb along my tattoo when he asks when I got it. “Hazel's eighteenth birthday, we went to get it together. We’ve always wanted matching tattoos, and this was the perfect one to get.” I feel a weight settle in my chest at the memory.

I slouch down in the bed so we’re at eye level with one another. He turns to me and studies my face. “Does it have the same meaning as mine?” His tattoo is the serenity prayer we just recited; he’s asking if it has to do with addiction.

“In a way, yes. It has a double meaning to it.” He waits for me to explain, and I think for a second if I should tell him the meaning. “That was her name, Serenity.”

He looks between my eyes, trying to figure something out. “Was?”

I let out a soft sigh. I never know what to say or do when people pick up on the use of past tense when I talk about her. I usually settle for the simple,she passed away, but something about lying here with Sire makes me want to share more.

I take a deep breath before continuing, “She overdosed. The three of us were inseparable, Serenity, Hazel, and I. Until death parted us,” I add quietly. “Seventeen years old and… She overdosed on heroin.” Everyone always says trios never work, and I get it now.

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