"We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness - and call it love - true love." (Robert Fulghum)
Moving...
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After lunch, we quickly slipped away in a moment of Anthony's distraction. The boys joined us because Lance insisted on seeing the room too. He's quite obsessed.
"How persistent!" Zayden laughs, seeing that I've rejected a voice call for the third time in a row.
"You should answer to get him off your back," Raine advises, teasing me.
Maybe I should give him a sign, but to be honest, he was so annoying that it killed my mood. Sometimes, he insists so much that it drives me crazy, and my impulse is to do the opposite of what he says, just to make him feel how I feel.
As we open the door, Lance drops to his knees dramatically, hands raised, pretending to cry.
"What have I done, Lord, not to get this room after all these years?"
"If you were four or five, maybe you'd have had a better chance," Raine teases with a sly grin.
Zayden slaps him on the back and forces him to get up. Hale flops down on my bed, diagonally, taking up the whole thing. Anything that would sit next to him would have to stay on the edge. Lance sets off exploring, as if it's the first time he's seen a guest room. It doesn't strike me as extraordinary that it has an indoor balcony. Unseen, yes, exceptional, no.
"I'm going out on the balcony to answer Nevin," I announce.
"I'm coming with you!" Harlyn offers immediately, causing one of Zayden's eyebrows to arch and a grin to appear on his face.
My expression mirrors his to some extent, but I try to suppress my smile. I open the balcony door, and Harlyn follows. I sit on a chair, which I had no idea existed until now, and she perches on my leg. I pass my right hand behind her waist to support her and keep her in case she somehow loses balance, and with the other, I press the doorbell button.
"Wait! How do I look?"
I roll my eyes and dial, and by the time Nevin deigns to answer, she's fixing her hair. After three beeps, Nevin finally picks up and seems surprised to see both of us on the screen.
"Why do you keep calling me incessantly?" I immediately reproach him as he greets us.
"I have to make sure you're not dying over there without me," he proudly claims, but the truth is entirely different.
I think I handle things just as poorly on my own as I would with him. Nevin is an insignificant variable in this equation.
Nevin asks for details about the journey, about the room, and Harlyn and I answer all of his questions in detail. If he expects me to give him a daily report, he's sorely mistaken. After about five minutes into the call, a boy steps out onto the neighboring balcony, which is attached to ours, the only obstacle between them being the railing. He looks at me confused, as if asking for an explanation of why we're embracing each other and talking on a video call with a boy. It doesn't seem particularly out of the ordinary to me.
