Who We Are

The third room on the left wasn't big by any standards. It was basically a square with a simple lone window across from the door, looking out over the same street mine did. I took a slow step into the room and sat down on the end of Ronnie's bed. The dark gray blankets weren't made and the end of the bed reached all the way to the doorway.

I watched silently as my sister sat in the beanbag in front of Ronnie's closet and talked to our mom. My eyes drifted away from her to the boy who sat Indian-style next to her. His own eyes stared out over the street as the lights started coming on down the road.

Next to Ronnie's bed was a small nightstand that held a picture frame with an image of him and the guys in it. Next to the table, in the far corner of the room, was a floor lamp that sat hunched over, although that was the way it was supposed to be. Between the large window and the lamp was an old acoustic guitar that hadn't been played in a long time, judging by the amount of dusk that had accumulated on the smooth, brown wood.

Ronnie wasn't known for being able to play guitar, barely anyone even knew about his singing talent. I reached out my foot and nudged Ronnie's back. He turned around and smiled at me softly. I pointed at the brown guitar and then at him. A silent question.

Ronnie nodded slowly, glancing towards the instrument.

"Will play for me sometime?" I mouthed, barely any sound coming out with it.

Ronnie's eyes raked over the guitar. "Yeah," he replied quietly, sparing a glance at my sister who had now closed her eyes and let her shoulders slumped.

I nodded with a small smile.

Ronnie quietly clambered to sit next to me on the bed instead of on the floor next to Gianna who was nodding off.

I looked at Ronnie expectantly. "We should go," I murmured, rising to my feet so I could rile up my sister and tug her across the yards to our own house.

"Kat," Ronnie murmured, "Wait, up."

I turned to look at him again, my eyes simply glancing over the smooth, pale skin of his face. "What?" I asked, not rude but not entirely interested.

Ronnie chuckled and patted the spot where I was just sitting. When he saw that I wasn't about to comply, he shrugged and asked, "What's the rush?"

I frowned and slowly crossed my arms over my chest. "My dad..." I trailed off, feeling as though it was the wrong answer entirely.

"Where does he think you are?"

"On a walk." I pushed my light colored locks out of my face and sucked my lower lip in between my teeth. A nervous habit I'd acquired years ago.

Ronnie stood up and smiled as he stepped closer. "It could be a long walk." His palms rested on my hips lightly, almost leading me closer to him.

I swallowed and dropped my arms to my sides. "It's getting dark," I murmured, looking away from Ronnie's eyes, "We never stay out in the dark."

Ronnie nodded. "Yeah, I know." He stopped talking and blinked a couple times like his eyes were trying to focus on the image right in front of him. Me. Then, after a couple unsteady breaths, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile. "Want me to talk you home?" he questioned, not letting go of my sides, instead his fingers finding the gap between where my pants began and my shirt ended.

I shook my head, unable to focus on the words that were being garbled up in my mouth. "No," I said finally, "That's not really a good idea. With my dad and all." I nodded to make myself seem more confident. Ronnie was making me nervous with the touching and the slow, sensual way of speaking that meant he was up to something.

And he was definitely up to something. The smile on his face widened just slightly, but the smile went from friendly, comforting, to presumptuous and cheeky. He knew that he was affecting me and that bothered me more than I wanted.

"Stop it," I told him, watching his smirk grow wider at the fact that I'd caught onto the silly little game he was playing. "I'm not kidding," I added for good measure.

Ronnie pulled his hands away, his smile still on his lips. "Sorry," he said, although I could tell he really wasn't, "Just trying to make you smile."

I rolled my eyes. "By being cocky?"

Ronnie shrugged. "Yeah." He nodded. "You like that kind of thing."

I scoffed in laughter. "Do I?"

Ronnie grinned and shook his head. "No," he stated, "But I just wanted to make you laugh."

I shoved him away. "You're ridiculous," I told him, hearing him laugh as he let himself fall down on his back onto his bed.

"And you're gorgeous, Kat," he said with a chuckle, "But hey, don't take my word for it."

Once again my arms were folded over my chest. "Why not?" I questioned skeptically.

He sat up on his elbows and smiled at me a charming smile, his brown eyes bright with mischief. "Because," he replied with a definite shrug, "I'm just a trouble-maker from the wrong side of town. If you leave out the great singing voice and an even greater physical appearance."

Laughter bubbled up my throat and out of my mouth before I could stop it. My simple act gave Ronnie all the satisfaction he was looking for, and more. He merely wanted me to smile but his faux sense of over confidence had me laughing at him, or with him, I guess. Since he was laughing, too, as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Oh Kat," he chuckled, burying his face in my hair, "You're not as difficult as you think you are."

In reply, I wrapped my arms around his torso and rested my chin on his shoulder. From this position, I could get used to the holes in his jeans, the messy hair, and the playful expressions. It wouldn't be a struggle at all.