Conner reaches for my hand as I step further away. Conner’s dad notices, smiles, and heads into the room across from the living room. I tilt my head to the side and see a woman, her back turned towards me, her brown hair in a high ponytail, placing food on a platter beside her.
I follow Conner down the rest of the hallway. He points to his dad’s office, and beside it is his mum’s office. We don’t go in, for the doors are locked and restricted because of their jobs. I can understand this when it comes to Conner’s mum. I wouldn’t want my old therapist’s kids snooping around, reading my file.
On the other side is the downstairs bathroom. It glistens with a sizable diamond-shaped chandelier, a long marble bathtub, stone benches, a shiny golden basin, and a glass shower sparkling in the light. There is a smaller room with a toilet next to the bathroom. He asks if I need to go, making me think of Renee’s conversation. My cheeks flush, and I shake my head.
The last room is the laundry room. He doesn’t take me outside. Instead, we head back the way we came and up the wooden staircase with a steel rose petal railing. At the top of thestairs, there is a storage room. Conner says they’re thinking of making a small library, but haven’t done the renovations yet, so it’s messy.
The first room on the right is Charlotte’s, and Noah’s is beside it. I overhear a young, boyish voice yelling out. Conner opens the door and leans against the doorframe. A dark-skinned boy wearing a soccer jersey crouches on an office chair, glaring at the TV hanging on the wall. His thumbs smack against the joysticks on the controller. He is playing a soccer game, and his eyes dilate as he yells at the TV.
“Hey,” Conner calls.
“What’s up, bro?” Noah speaks without looking away from the TV.
“I’m showing Noya around,” Conner replies.
“Oh, your girlfriend—Dog! What was that? Pass the ball! Dog, what are you doing?!”
Conner chuckles. “That’s what you get for trusting AI.”
I have no idea what they’re talking about. The only games I’ve ever played were the snake game on my phone and imaginative games when I was younger. I used to have dolls, but they never lasted in my house.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Conner says, closing the door on his brother. He then turns to me and smiles apologetically. “He likes games.”
I giggle while saying, “I can tell.” I then turn to Charlotte’s door again. There is a picture hanging on it of a princess, I think. She has a colossal head and a triangular body, but I see a crown. “Where’s your younger sister?”
“More than likely at her friend’s home across the road. She will be home no later than four, or else she will get in trouble,” Conner replies.
He points to a door across from Noah’s.
“That’s Mum and Dad’s bedroom, the rumpus room beside it, and the upstairs bathroom.” He turns the corner, revealing another hallway, but this one is shorter. “This used to be Mum and Dad’s room, but when they had Charlotte, they wanted to be closer, so they wanted me to swap rooms with them.”
“Oh… why?” I ask curiously.
“Charlotte was premature when she was born,” Conner answers. “She was hospitalised for months, and we thought she wouldn’t make it. She had to undergo a lot of therapy because her growth was stagnant.”
“I’m sorry…”
“She’s all good now. You wouldn’t think anything was wrong with her,” Conner eases my worries. “Mum and Dad never wanted to swap back after that. I offered, trust me, but they wanted to be closer to Noah and Charlotte since then.”
Conner stands before the door, a grin on his face as he leans into me. My eyes widen, and I take a step back when he wraps his arms around me and leans in for a kiss. My breath hitches, but my focus drifts to the entryway before the kiss becomes too intense. My hands are on his chest, and I push him away gently. “Conner,” I whisper.
“Sorry,” he says as he brushes his thumb across my cheek, “seeing you so flustered kind of turned me on.”
“Stop,” I hiss. “Now, I don’t want to enter your room if you have ulterior motives.”
“Oh, says the one who jumped my bones as soon as she woke at her Nan’s place.”
“Please,” I say, my face growing red. “Don’t remind me.”
Conner pushes down on the handle and opens the door. His room is bright… brighter than I expected. Cream-coloured walls, white floorboards, and a wall that is all windows overlooking the side yard. I notice a long pool with a silver fence around it. Then, tearing my eyes away from the window, I inspect Conner’s room.
A king-sized bed in the far back corner has fitted green and white bedsheets. Across the wall with the bed, there is a collage of paintings and drawings. I gape at all the drawings, and there, framed in the centre of them all, is the one he drew of me in the oval. It’s completed and coloured. My brown hair is twisted in a bun, with pieces falling messily.
I then grimace, wondering if my hair is that messy. The tree, though… I touch the frame and feel my throat tighten as I touch the flourishing green leaves on one side, while the other side is dead.
“I’m not very good at drawing fantasy art, but I gave it a shot,” Conner says as we both overlook the piece of art.
“Why?” I ask.