Unmasked

Valerie's POV

After our talk on the pier, Finn asked me to sleepover because I was leaving for LA in two days. Things weren't blossoming inside me, but they weren't withering away like before, either, so it was good progress. I didn't feel like we were standing on a burning bridge, waiting for it to turn to cinders and fall apart—taking us with it. When we arrived at the loft, April was the only one home.

"Mom and Dad went out with friends. Dad thinks it'll cheer her up and put an end to her rants on 'you're sending my baby away' which, FYI, should be referencing me: the youngest. Not the middle child."

"My heart goes out to you." Finn's grumpy comment did nothing to placate her spreading grin at the sight of us together. I figured this mood was his default setting; I found it hilarious because Finn was a cuddly guy. "I'm guessing you were ordering out?"

"You bet. Can we order pizza?"

Finn's head swung towards me; I nodded.

"That works."

We ate a large Domino's pizza in the living room. April's up-beat energy was contagious as she spoke of Martha Greene—her boss—and how she was extremely against animals being killed for the single purpose of becoming clothes or accessories.

"What about silk? Animals make it."

"That's a good question." April grabbed her third slice. "I'm going to ask her."

We watched Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, April's favorite. I hadn't been crazy about the whole wizarding phase, mainly because I'd been hellbent on getting my childhood over with by the time I hit nine. Finn's parents got home just before we left for his bedroom; this time around, he'd texted them about me staying over. I guess getting caught in a towel hadn't been all bad.

We lounged on his bed. Our bodies were surprisingly cool thanks to Finn's loft being colder than the outside world. I asked about his swimming days on the team. I didn't miss the far-off look in his eye or the fact that he equated swimming with freedom. Finn was his quiet, yet gentle self, asking about my suicide attempt; I tried to convey what I'd felt then: how something in me had been numb and hollow, how I'd linked that feeling to abandonment and… How it had been a stupid split-decision from a little girl who hadn't known what life could be, who didn't know how death worked and how losing people was always a possibility.

"I meant what I said," I ran the tips of my fingers between his pecs. "You don't need to worry about me resorting to self-harm." A big part of me couldn't believe I was having this conversation with someone other than Lydia or Dad.

Finn's arm pulled me tighter against him. Like I said, he was a cuddler.

"I might not have known you as a kid, but I sure as hell know you now and you're a fierce woman. You're proud, charismatic, a bit bratty—" I carved my nails into soft skin, he winced, cutting me a sharp look. "You're proving me right." He chuckled at my puffed cheeks. "You're all that and more, Valerie. You could take this world by the balls." Heat swamped my neck, traveling south instead of north—to my cheeks. "Why would you ever give that up?"

Looking into those heart-stopping eyes, I realized April was right. Finn liked complicated. But he wasn't an easy deal, either. I could have the world eating out of the palm of my hand, but not Finn. He defied me, argued against me, my logics and ethics, he made me question things and myself. He was my match.

A Queen and her King.

Finn smoothed a hand along my arm, I shivered into him.

"What are you thinking?" came the deep voice.

I wouldn't outright admit these… feelings. Not yet. Instead, my brain jumped on the crazy wagon.

"That maybe you'll be able to build a teleportation machine." I shifted my head on his shoulder as he let out a hearty laugh.

"I'm going to MIT. Not Xavier's School for Gifted Children." Meaning something like teleportation was science fiction to him.

"Where's your creativity?"

"You have enough for the both of us. Serious talk, though. I'm into the idea of mechanic engineering." I perked at the news. Finn sharing his future with me led my stomach to do a flop. "What about you? Art?"

"I don't know. I mean, I want to keep painting. I just… I want to do something more. You know?"

Finn's curiosity showed as he paid close attention, "Like what?"

"Like… maybe… Help people. As a doctor. Or a nurse." To his credit, he only looked floored for about two seconds. "I know. I've never brought it up, but that's why I picked a school with a good medical program and good art program. I haven't made a choice."

"Wait. I thought blood and guts freaked you out?"

"That's in slasher movies and carnage filled history documentaries."

Finn's eyebrows drew together, casting an air of mystery to his handsome face.

"That's strangely specific. Then again, you're a strangely picky kind of girl." Look who's talking, Matthews. "Doctor Monet. It has a ring to it."

"And I come from a long line of doctors on my Dad's side." I reminded him. "Maybe the mantle skipped a generation with him."

"You make it sound like your Dad's family was cursed with medicine."

"My uncle swears he lost his hair because of his residency. I bet he thinks that was a curse." I poked Finn's chin. "What's that face?"

"Mmm?" he snapped out of whatever wormhole he'd fallen in. "Oh, I was picturing you going bald—" I almost yelled. I jumped on top of him, pinning his shoulders as he threw his head back laughing. How dare he imagine such blasphemy? My weight proved ineffective; Finn's hands grasped my hips and suddenly I was the one under him.

Hovering there, smirking smugly, I watched his gaze travel across my face.

"Tell me you'll fight for this?" first, I thought he was referring to a career in medicine. He was actually talking about us.

"I already told you I would."

"I need to hear you say it. One more time." Finn didn't show vulnerability often. Until today, I thought of him as incredibly lucky and well adjusted. Finn was both, but not on the level I'd thought. He had scars too. More importantly, he needed me for the person I was.

"I will fight for us." He leaned down, touching our foreheads as if saying 'thank you'.

***

University of California, Los Angeles. UCLA for short. Would I be spending the next four years of my life here? I hadn't shared the possibility of Brown with Finn. In a not so distant past, it might've been for the sick reason of getting payback—for him not breathing a word about MIT—but it was to spare him. What was the point of getting his hopes up? It might not pan out. Well, before I got on a plane with my superbly annoying tag-along, I'd checked out some fun-facts Finn sent me about my future college. Why had Finn googled fun-facts? Because he'd been bored last night. Fun fact, UCLA's motto is: let there be light and in Latin fiat lux. Fun fact number two: they had two mascots, Joe and Josephine Bruin, which was adorable.

Thankfully, Jackson and I parted ways at the end of the first day since students were required to stay in the residence halls during orientation. Which meant two out of three days would be spent away from him. The only downside was: we were flying home after my last orientation day, meaning I would have to spend a night at the same hotel he was loitering in. I was currently sharing a room with two girls. If I did attend UCLA, I was going to buy an apartment near campus. No offense to either Kendra or Lucinda, but I was a fan of space and privacy. At this residency, we shared a bathroom with our entire hall. College life be damned, I was not spending four years in a cubicle without a personal bathroom, thank you very much!

"Have you guys thought about majors yet?" Kendra asked from below my bed; that's right, Valerie Monet, daughter of Upper East Side Manhattan was on a bunkbed. Another reason why these sleeping arrangements wouldn't stand. I needed a nice, spacious bed with a mattress made of geese feathers—I wasn't planning on ruining my back.

Lucinda or Luck, as she preferred to be called, rolled over to face our beds. She was wearing a Hufflepuff pajama; I knew this because of two things: April's detailed explanation on HP lore two nights ago and because Luck asked Kendra and me what our houses were, after she changed for bed. To my amazement, I wasn't the only one who wasn't into the Harry Potter craze. Kendra was with me, so, Luck took it upon herself to proudly describe her house.

"Why would you ask something so stressful at this hour?" I was with Lucinda. I was half tempted to crane my head down at her bunk and glare at the frizzy-haired girl.

"Because I'm too nervous! Tomorrow we're going to register for classes," I could imagine Kendra biting her thumbnail; I'd noticed her doing it when we met and got ushered into this room. "I don't freaking know what I want to take!"

Finn would want me to play nice. So would Ms. Coleman and Dad. Heck, a part of me wanted to play nice, wanted to experience this sense of… comradery. It was easy to tell that neither of these girls knew what they wanted to study, like me. Wasn't this what I wanted? The fresh start? A clean slate? Well, here was the opportunity!

"I'm torn between a science major and an art major." I glared at the ceiling. My voice had come out even, though the words sounded heavy leaving my tongue.

"Really?" Kendra perked up, glad I wasn't groaning about her question same as Luck. "Wow. Those are two different areas, Valerie." Tell me about it, Einstein.

"Yeah. It's… I love art. Painting and music—especially. I'm good at science too, though and I… want to help people."

"As a doctor?" bingo, Luck nailed it on the head. I sat up slightly so that she could she me nodding. Her face scrunched for a second, "Hey, I know you don't know me, but I'm going to give you my two scents, 'kay?"

"Okay."

"Putting yourself through pre-med and medical school is a lot of work. Let's not forget residency. My opinion is that… if you want to help people—if that's something you're passionate about? Go for it. But if your parents or someone else is influencing you… Just don't. I say this because a cousin of mine went through the whole deal, only to give up at the start of his residency because he couldn't handle the stress that came with declaring people dead or dealing with their families." My stomach knotted at the top. "He went into medicine because his mother pushed him. He's a teacher now."

This brought up a similar conversation I'd had with Ms. Coleman:

"I'm not trying to discourage you, honey. Just understand… as a person with severe grieving issues, I don't think a career in medicine is a good choice. It would require nerves of steel. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn't be shaken if someone—a patient—died in your care?"

I hadn't given her an answer then. I'd changed subjects. My father hadn't said those exact words when I mentioned this possible career choice, instead he'd said:

"Whether you choose art or medicine, I'll be proud." But I'd seen the concern lurking beneath his honesty.

Because I'd grown quiet, Luck and Kendra were chatting. Their words were getting slower; at some point, Kendra hit the lights and we were plunged in darkness. Staring into the unwavering blackness of our room, I weighed a career in arts versus one in medicine.

***

Our second day was filled with workshops, presentations and probably the most difficult part for me: meeting with an advisor. I selected mostly art courses: Painting, Drawing, Sculpture, Modernism, Renaissance and Baroque Art and Introductory Psychology. After nine years of therapy, a course in psychology just seemed like an easy win to me. I spent lunch with Kendra and Luck. Kendra was a bit of a bumbling mess as she filled us in on the variety of classes she'd applied to; there were linguistic classes, one for engineering and a couple centered around economics. Luck had selected science-only courses for the fall semester.

"Who do you keep texting?" Luck asked between a bite of her ham sandwich and a sip of diet Coke. I must've thrown her an icy look because the girl got her hands in the air, "Sorry. I'm overly curious. Pretend I didn't say a word."

I studied the light-haired girl; she sounded honest and looked truly appalled by her rash question. I figured she was nervous and instead of biting her thumbnail, like Kendra, she spoke her mind out loud. I looked at Kendra who appeared to be daydreaming, probably wondering if she'd made the right choices. She was an overthinker.

"It's my boyfriend." It felt strange to say the word. It lit my face though, it made my insides all jittery and I had to bite my cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. "I was telling him about my picks."

Luck appeared more at ease with my friendly display.

"Is he going to college?"

"Yeah." I paused. "He's going to MIT."

A hand on my shoulder startled me. I scooted aside, nearly tipping off my chair. Kendra was grabbing my arm with an awed expression.

"Shut up! Seriously?" I nodded dumbly. Was MIT all the rage and I just didn't know? Or had MIT been Kendra's dream college, too? "I'm just excited." She retreated into her spot, allowing me to slide back into a secure place on the chair. "My girlfriend's going to study there too!"

"That is pretty amazing," I muttered, winded. The world was a small place. Out of everyone here, I'd gone and found someone whose significant other was going to attend MIT. "Are you okay with that?" it was out before I could stop myself.

Kendra's lips puckered. She gave a measly shrug.

"Because it's so far away? No. But what am I going to do? I can't hold her down. MIT has been her dream ever since she was little. Lily," I figured that was her girlfriend's name. "Is coming home for holidays, so, it's not all bad." So, they were from Cali. "I'm doing my best not to overthink how many miles are between us. It's… hard. Lily's such an optimist, though, it's dificult to think things could go wrong."

I wondered who was more optimistic: Finn or me? I must've missed Luck asking Kendra how long her and Lily had been together for, because I heard the answer "almost two years now".

"How about you and…?"

"Finn," I provided. I felt the urge to summon the Queen and walk off in style. Breathe in, breathe out, I chanted, using the old technique to keep myself centered. "We haven't been dating for long…"

"I hear a 'but' coming up." Luck said.

"But it's serious."

Kendra gave me a sympathetic look. It was Lucinda who reached across the small table, though; she touched my naked forearm.

"My Mom and Dad did the whole long-distance relationship thing. They were like that for two years. Things weren't always perfect between them—like in all relationships, they had ups and downs, but my mother always tells me: just because there are some crappy twists in between, it doesn't mean it's not worth it." Luck grinned between Kendra and me. "My mother isn't a poet, as you guys might have guessed."

"Nope. But I think she gets the point across." Kendra snorted a laugh.

Sitting here, with these strangers, suddenly didn't seem so awful. Kendra was a bit neurotic and Luck was quirky. And me? I was mess of hang-ups. What Lucinda said eased some of the insecurities inside my mind, as did Finn's promise and my own. Throughout the day, I felt looser with the girls; I even confessed to them about my pending admittance at Brown. Late that night, in our room, we played Uno—something I'd never played before. They'd been wholly impressed by that. On the third day, we exchanged numbers before parting ways. When I met with Jackson he was standing outside of a taxi, leaning on its side.

"You didn't command someone to carry your bags?" on cue, I shoved my suitcase into Jackson's legs. He bit a wince. "I see you're in a good mood. As per usual."

I didn't speak with him, walking to the other side of the car, climbing into the back seat. The driver snuck me a glance in the rearview mirror. I dodged the man's eyes. My good mood had been disseminated because of Jackson's mere presence. Thankfully, he stopped trying to strike conversation after the first try. It was unlike him, but I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Once at the hotel, Jackson told the bag carrier to take my bags to the suite I'd be staying at. I hadn't expected Jackson to walk in with me. Into my suite. I spun on my heel, arms crossed and glared down my nose at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? We're sharing a suite. Don't give me that look, your father booked this for us, not me." With a lick of anger, I realized he was correct. I did my best to walk—not stomp—over to my carryon and grab it.

"This bag is going into a different room than yours."

Jackson shrugged, "Of course. You made it abundantly clear that there's nothing between us. You even got yourself a fuck-toy."

"He's not…"

"Simmer down. I was trying to diffuse the tension." I gave an incredulous look. "Aren't brothers supposed to tease their little sisters?" incredulity became something new altogether and I stared at him as if he'd grown a tail. He heaved a breath. "I know you're pissed at me. I know you don't think I was being sincere… but I was. That… That day when I hurt you—I felt horrible. I don't want things to stay like this between us. Believe it or not, I do miss you."

I stayed put, studying him shrewdly. Jackson and my Ice Queen complemented each other, I had to be careful on this turf. He could—he was—most likely playing an angle. Jackson ruffled his longish hair with a slightly pained expression.

"For what it's worth, I'll respect your choices from now on."

Too little too late, I wanted to spew. Still, if there was even a remote chance that this was real and not an act… If this meant there was a slim chance that we could be a family… Jackson and I needed to tolerate one another in such scenario, at the very least. If Jackson was willing to make an effort, to admit he was wrong—which I knew from experience, was hard—shouldn't I take a step in the right direction too?

"This hatchet is far from buried."

His shoulders slumped in defeat. It was a weird sight to behold; Jackson was the ever-confident bastard.

"Alright, I get it. I'm eating out tonight. So, don't wait up for me—which you wouldn't do anyway." exactly what I'd been about to say. "Have a good one, Val." And the new saint-like version of my step-brother slithered into what I assumed to be his bedroom to get himself ready to hit some fancy club. Jackson probably had friends here, when we'd been together, he'd known people everywhere. Guard up, I rolled my bag into the free bedroom. I locked the door behind me because I wasn't a trusting fool. Much later, after Jackson left and room service delivered my food, I was on the bed wearing a silky nightgown talking to Finn.

"…did you just admit to liking people?"

I saved the eye-roll for when he could see it, "Keep using sarcasm, Matthews. You'll see where it gets you."

"Into your…"

"Don't even finish that sentence."

"You don't know what I was going to say." Ah, yeah, I knew. "What time does your plane land?"

"Around two," I rolled to the side, propping myself on an elbow. If Jackson made me late for the plane, I was going to throw a knife at his head. "My Dad's sending a car to pick us up."

"Damn it, your Dad's salting my game."

I bit back a laugh.

"I feel like I should apologize on his behalf: my father's sorry you won't get to pick up his daughter from the airport to thoroughly fuck her." Imagining the mix of panic and surprise on his face made it worthwhile.

"I'm not even going to get into that with you." There was a short pause. "I went shopping for tuxedos with my brother."

"For you?"

"No, for him. I already have mine." I bet he was going to take the tux he wore to Prom. I generally wouldn't use the same dress twice, unless it was a master piece, but Finn was a guy and that tux did look exquisite on him… "Hey. So. Johnny asked me if I wanted to take a plus-one to the wedding. They sent the invites about two months ago and I told them I was going solo."

I stayed perfectly still, staring at the strange art sculpture on the vanity. It was such a stupid thing to do—holding your breath over a boy.

"Are you going to make me ask you?"

"Ask? I'm not sure what you're hinting at." I drew a circle on my knee, grinning.

"Who's using sarcasm now?" he sighed with a chortle. "Valerie Monet, will you do me the honor of attending my brother's wedding as my girlfriend?"

"I don't know. Are you kneeling?"

"Fuck me…" came the muffled groan.

"I'll do that as soon as I see you."

"You're being funny tonight." Finn's voice came clear through this time; it sounded rough.

"But getting back to your question," I drummed my knee. "When is the wedding?" it was mid-September on a weekend. "Since you asked so nicely… I'm giving you a yes."

"You almost gave me heart attack." I burst out laughing at his anguished tone.