juxtapose-

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o n e: his eyes

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It was Holly who opened the door.

To anyone else, his eyes would be, perhaps, the most noticeable—liquid blue and shadowed by dark hair—but it was the crooked smile that made her breath catch.

“Hunter,” she gasped—and when was the last time she’d spoken? Was that really her voice? It was barely above a whisper.

She could sense her grandfather standing behind her, and Hunter, seeing no need for proper introductions, simply nodded his head in greeting.

“So,” he drawled after a moment of silence, “are you going to let me in?”

Her grandfather coughed but stepped back to give him room. “Mr. Carraway, I presume?”

Hunter’s smile wavered, like he was put off by the old man’s interference. “Hunter, actually. I always feel like that’s my father’s title—Mr. Carraway. You must be Mr. Devene.”

“Ah, yes.” Ever polite. Of course. “I didn’t expect you so . . .” Mr. Devene grasped for words. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one, sir.” Even as he stuck out his hand, Hunter held himself with casual certainty. He was ridiculously proud, and it showed, always—in his posture, the tilt of his head, his shrouded eyes. “I go to college in the city. But if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to catch up with Holly first.”

“You’re not twenty-one” were the next words out of her mouth. They sat alone in the kitchen, but she was cautious to speak—her voice felt unfamiliar, even to herself.

Hunter shrugged. “So I bumped it up a year and a half. He’ll think I’m more responsible.” A pause as he tapped his fingers across the table. “Although I’m surprised you remember at all.”

She blushed and stared out the window. “Hunter . . . ,” she murmured.

“Ah, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He leaned across the table to ruffle her hair. “I love you, you know. And Peyton told me she wants to see you.”

Holly met his gaze sheepishly and allowed herself a few more words. “Do you two talk often?”

“Well . . . I sort of live with her.”

Holly didn’t move. Instead, she breathed, “What?”

“C’mon, Holly.” His grin was teasing. “You can’t expect me to live with my parents forever. Peyton and I get along fine, and besides, she’ll be leaving again soon. Mark proposed to her a few weeks ago.”

Mark. Holly remembered the name. “Wow.”

“A lot’s happened since you disappeared, huh?” Hunter was swift to change the topic. “How’s living with your grandfather been?”

“It’s . . . okay.” A false smile found its way across her face. “He’s nice, and I don’t really have anywhere else to go, so . . .” She shrugged a shoulder, as if to brush it off.

“Yeah, I know. That’s—why I came, actually. I want you to move in with me.”

Surprised, she looked like a doll. Her mouth was parted, but she was as lifeless as ever, and the lack of response bothered Hunter.

“Look, Holly, you’re sixteen, responsible, and mature. Yeah, maybe if it was a five-year-old we were talking about, I wouldn’t be able to handle this shit, but this is you. You’re smart and independent. You’d do so much better without adults breathing down your neck and wondering when you’re gonna snap, and if you’re ever gonna through this, and you know it!”

Still, her voice was shaky. “Hunter, I—”

“It’s June fourteenth,” he cut her off. “School’s ended, right? Just stay with me over the summer. At least. It’d be like vacation. You deserve vacation. Peyton will be there, too.”

“And my grandfather?”

“We’ll convince him somehow.”

“I—I haven’t gone on vacation in a long time.”

“Sweetheart,” he laughed, and if she wasn’t so empty, so completely passive, he would have reached out to touch her again. “Trust me, please. I have this all figured out. Besides,” he gave a feral grin, “I’ve already made the arrangements back home. You can’t back out now.”

The beach, Holly remembered, was permanently cold. Even as she stood there, with the sun too hot for mild mid June, the water lapped at her feet and numbed her ankles. Some yards away, her flip-flops lay abandoned in the sand. Her suitcase had been left in the car.

“My parents called.”

Holly straightened and faced Hunter, unblinking. “What’d they say?”

“They wanted to know why your grandfather ever agreed to let you stay.”

She smiled stiffly. “It’s only for the summer,” she reasoned.

“Yeah.” Hunter nodded. “It’ll be good for us—for you. A break.”

A break. With the sand, and the seagulls, and the ocean that blended into the horizon, it sounded almost bitter.

A break.

“Yes,” Holly agreed after some time. “It’ll be good.”

Silence again, and she turned back to the stretch of water. “How are they?”

“Who?”

“Your parents.”

Hunter blinked dumbly. “Oh. All right, I guess. They’ve been caught up in work lately, and I’ve been busy, too, what with college and all. The usual. It wasn’t much of a conversation.”

Holly nodded.

“You could ask Peyton, though. She spends all day with them. I’m sure she could answer some of your questions.”

Apparently, this was news to the girl before him. “What does she do?”

“She’s an intern at the firm. I thought you knew that.”

“I didn’t even know she was studying to be a lawyer. You two never talk about school.”

Hunter licked his lips. He tried to keep the disdain out of his voice as he said, “Yeah, it’ll be good for her career. She won’t stay there forever, though. She’ll never get anywhere working under our father.”

There was a pause, as Holly wasn’t quite sure how to take that. Finally, she asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

A melodious laugh, but strained nonetheless. “What are you studying?”

Hunter grinned and kicked at the sand. “Photography and Art, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“Do you have class tomorrow?”

“Not until August. You’re not the only one on summer break, you know.”

“What do you do all day?”

“Photography. Art. Work, mostly. I don’t have to go in tomorrow, but chances are you won’t see me often.” Hunter rubbed a hand against his jaw. “School’s getting pretty expense,” he added unsurely.

“And Peyton?” Holly asked.

“Oh, she just works all day. I barely see her anymore.”

“How does she afford law school?”

“What?”

“Interns don’t get a salary, right? So she’s basically spending all her time working for no money. But if you’re working all day and still struggling to pay tuition, how does Peyton afford law school?”

Seconds passed, and all Holly could hear was the seagulls.

“Holly” was all Hunter said at first. It came out harsher than intended, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s getting dark. It’s a thirty minute drive to the house, and we have to get back before you’re too tired to unpack.”

Holly, thrown off by the sudden change of subject, could do nothing but comply. As she went to get her sandals, the sand stuck to the bottom of her feet. The car ride was sure to be awkward, but for some reason the thought didn’t bother her at all.

It wasn’t like she said much these days, anyway.

It was early; the sky was still a washed-out grey, and all you could smell was the dew from the lawn, but Holly, sitting out on the porch, was as awake as ever.

So when the door opened and shut, it was only natural for her to look up.

“Oh.”

He was standing there, shoving a pair of keys into his pocket, as the first rays of sunlight painted shadows across his face.

It took her a moment, but then she knew. He carried himself like Hunter—cockily—but his mouth, his high cheekbones and icy-blue eyes, all held traces of Peyton.

This boy was their brother.

“You’re the basket case.” His voice was surprisingly casual. “Our parents were friends.”

Holly could not bring herself to be offended. “They’re dead,” she blurted, as if that explained everything.

“Your father’s been dead for a long time.” It was not apologetic, showed no concern. The boy was looking towards the horizon, and she realized, a minute too late, that he’d already known. And he honestly didn’t care.

“Where are you going?”

Too early for school, and he didn’t have his backpack. For once in his life, he had nothing to say.

“You’re not going to tell,are you?”

“No.”

“Then why does it matter?” he asked, and started walking down the porch steps.

It was a curt, candid answer that threw her off guard. She blinked and tugged on a lock of dark brown hair.

“Well,” she called after him, “are you going home?”

The boy was halfway down the drive when he turned to her, half-squinting in the light of the rising sun. Or maybe he was just trying to get a better look at her. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, do you?”

“I—”

“If you think,” he cut her off, loud enough for her to hear, “if you thinkthat my brother, or my sister, or anybody in this whole goddamn town can be trusted, then you’re wrong. And I swear to God, foster kid, you are going to regret this.”

He was walking again, but this time, he had left her speechless. For one moment, Holly considered yelling out to him again, but before she could even ask for his name, he was gone.

It was a few days before she saw him again.

a/n: I had this shit written since December and only just now remembered how much I love it.

so here—you can have it.