Chapter 73

POV R O M A N

I could feel her nervousness pulsing through the car. I couldn't help but feel it. There was something about the way she was sitting that made me concerned, her knees angled away from me and her chin resting on her fist as she looked longingly out the window. She looked like she was going to throw up.

Will she throw up?

My mom would kill me if I got vomit in my car.

Like that's important right now.

However, I felt her fear. It was weird with Sienna; sometimes I believed us to be on two different planets, yet I always knew what she was feeling. I knew she was keeping something from me yet what that something was, I didn't know, and I couldn't help but let my mind wander to what it was.

Was her family horrible? Did they hurt her? – I swear to god if they hurt her...

She Italian. What if this is some mafia kind of shit? Oh god, please don't let this be some mafia kind of shit.

Trying to take my mind off it all, I focused on driving down the suburban street that led to the one I assumed she lived down. She didn't stop me when I made the turning down here so I assumed I was going the right way.

I should have put on some music. Maybe that would relax her. Maybe Lana Del Rey? No. Not Lana Del Rey. All Skye played these past few days was Lana Del Rey and I could not think about Skye at the moment. Not when I had to worry about Sienna.

When Sienna showed up at the hospital, I didn't know what to think. I was shocked, surprised, slightly terrified but, somehow, relieved. Relieved it was her and not anyone else. Relieved it was her. Just her. I didn't have to hesitate to tell her about Skye, things were easy around her and I knew that no matter what, she wouldn't judge. I tried to hesitate for myself.

You see, when the other child in your family isn't fine, you must be. That was something people didn't easily understand for some reason. How could Roman Lawrence feel as if he has to be perfect when he's already got the perfect grades for everything? That wasn't my problem. I had the grades; I had the brain to do well. I've always been one of those kids who struggled writing down the working out in tests because I already automatically knew the answer. My problem was being fine mentally.

There's a toll things can take on you and you either accept it or repress it. I repressed it. Boxing only did so much. Boxing got out my anger and stress, boxing calmed me down, boxing let me get stuck in the moment. Although when that moment was over, the other things came flooding through. I assumed that was how people got addicted to sex. It's a moment that you get lost in, allowing you to forget everything, then when it's over, everything comes flooding through.

Again, I was assuming. Yeah, because you're a virgin. No shit, Sherlock.

I looked back at Sienna, noticing how she fiddled with her hands in her lap as she got nervous, how she was picking at her nails. She always did that, just how she always wore a citrusy perfume, just how she liked cherry-flavoured things because her breath always tasted like it. These were things she hadn't even told me and yet I knew them. I wondered if she did the same for me? Were there things I did that she noticed? Why did I care?

I flicked my blinker left to turn down the street I knew where all the big houses lied when she spoke up.

"Straight ahead." What? She lived down there though.

"I thought that –"

"You thought wrong. Straight ahead." Straight ahead? I never came down these streets anyways because I had no reason to meaning I had no clue what lied straight ahead, but it's where she wanted me to go, so I was going there. I didn't fail to notice the wobble in her voice as she spoke. I had never seen her cry. It was weird, I've seen a lot of her – all of her if we're speaking technically, and I've never seen her cry. I didn't know why it bothered me so much.

Adam's probably seen her cry.

Yeah, but Adam's probably made her cry.

I didn't want to make Sienna cry. I didn't want to make anyone cry. I never understood how someone could leave another to cry, even in movies when there's a breakup scene and one of them is left crying on the floor, I didn't know how the other just left them there and walked away.

Skye used to cry all the time.

I remembered the day I found out. My mom told me she had problems, I went up to her room and she was sobbing. It was angry sobbing. Angry at my mom for telling. Angry at herself for letting it happen. I wanted her to give me the names of the boys who talked about girls that way, who made her feel so insecure. I so badly wanted to give them a piece of my mind, excluding the fact they were thirteen. Instead, she cried as I hugged her. The emotion of hugging your little sister and feeling pure bone is a feeling I can and will never be able to describe.

 It's the start of a nightmare. 

The tall rows of houses shrunk as we got further down the street and I glanced over to Sienna who didn't seem to care.

"Sienna, if this is a joke –"

"32." She cut me off. I stared at her for a few seconds.

"What?"

"My house number. 32. Look out for it."

Was she playing me? Why would she play you? I didn't know, but it didn't seem right. Nonetheless, I kept driving and the houses grew smaller.

30... 31... 32.

The house was small, smaller than mine but more on the sense of adorable. The creamy-yellow panelled exterior with the white paned windows, and brown tiled roof made it look cute, cosy even but there was something about it that made it different.

This was where Sienna lived?

I was about to speak when she abruptly got out of the car, grabbing her things, keeping her head down as she walked to the front. I chased after her.

"Sienna!" I called. "Sienna, is this a joke?" this had to be a joke. There was no way she lived here.

She didn't respond and took a house key out of her pocket, fumbling with it, opening the door. I couldn't see her expression. It felt like she was hiding it from me, and I hated it.

I chased her into the house without a thought. The first time I noticed was the wooden flooring that squeaked as soon as I pressed my foot down, then the hall lined with pictures, mainly of her.

A little Sienna around seven or eight playing at the local beach a few hours or so from here. Little Sienna holding a rock with the name 'Stonely' written across in yellow chalk. She had a pet rock. Sienna had a pet rock, and it was freaking adorable. Her gap-tooth smile stood out to me as I saw another picture of her at the Yellowstone National Park. She looked older here, around eleven, with a purple rain-mac on. A man was behind her, hugging her, his dark brown skin glistened with rain drop which explained why she was wearing the raincoat. His smile was huge as he pointed to the camera. Who was he? A family friend of some kind?

"Sienna?!" a voice called from the kitchen. "Sienna is that you?" it was the voice of a woman.

"Yeah!" Sienna called back, refusing to look back at me.

"Close the door behind you! You're letting all the heat out!" the woman called back. Sienna pushed passed me and closed the door, pushing passed me again as I stood as still as ever. This couldn't be her house. There was no way. Sienna was rich, Sienna lived in a mansion, her parents were CEOs of some kind. She wasn't this. How could she be this?

I walked further into the house till I reached the kitchen, the floor was now a kind of stone and plants were hanging from every shelf and corner in the room.

A woman stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan, humming to herself. She turned around to look at Sienna, smiling before her eyes fell on me. I first thing I noticed was that she was East-Asian. Her slender yet tall frame leaned against the kitchen counter as she examined me. Her hair fell down in soft curls to her shoulder as her eyes, so brown they were almost black, studied me, not intimidatingly, just curiously, welcoming almost.

"This is Roman, mom." Sienna replied. "He's a friend." Mom. She called her mom. She looked nothing like Sienna. Sienna was Italian, not Asian. So how could.... She was adopted.

Holy shit, Sienna was adopted.

Her mom didn't just make Chinese food, her mom was Chinese, and I instantly knew that the man from the picture was her father. She was adopted.

"Well..." she looked me up and down and gave a sly look to her daughter, I didn't know what it meant but I saw a redness flush Sienna's cheek as she rolled her eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Roman."

"You too." I answered, "Erm, Mrs –"

"Jia. Just call me Jia." She smiled kindly.

"Jia." I nodded. "What –"

"Is dad home?" Sienna cut me off. Jia looked her way and shook her head.

"No, he's finishing work at Rya's dad's house." Rya's dad's house?

"Cool." She replied and we stood there in awkward silence. So many questions were swirling around my head and I couldn't keep up with it. Sienna lied. She lied about being rich. But why?

Jia coughed and placed a hand on her hip the same way her daughter always did. "Well, I guess I'm making you both awkward enough." A teasing look flickered in her eyes before she smiled happily, "Your dad and I are going to the charity dance at the care home."

"Tell Mrs Bach I said hi."