December arrived with a crisp bite in the air and the unmistakable scent of pine and expensive woodsmoke. I've always loved Christmas, but this year was different.
In four days, I would finally be eighteen. Hailey and Brianna had insisted on throwing me a bash at the Lombardi-style mansion Hailey's family owned.
Since her parents were eternal ghosts, traveling the world for business, the house was ours for the taking.
I drove out to Hailey's place for the first time on Tuesday. I thought my dad's house was a fortress, but this was a kingdom. After passing a massive iron gate, the car wound down a private, tree-lined road for what felt like miles before reaching a second gate and the main house. It was breathtaking—the kind of place that made you feel like royalty just by standing on the porch.
Hailey had texted saying she was stuck in traffic, so the housekeeper led me to the sun-drenched kitchen and offered to make me a milkshake. I sat at the long marble island, feeling a bit out of place, until I realized I wasn't alone.
A man sat at the far end of the table, his eyes glued to a laptop screen. He looked like an older, more refined version of the boys I knew. He had short, dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a face that looked like it was carved from granite. He was effortlessly handsome. When he looked up, his gaze was so intense it made my breath hitch. He didn't look like Harry; he looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
"I'm Andrea," I said, breaking the silence. "Hailey's friend."
"I know who you are," he said. His voice was a deep, resonant bass that seemed to vibrate in the room. I found myself watching his Adam's apple move as he spoke. How many brothers does this girl have? I wondered.
"So… what are you doing?" I asked, desperate to stop the awkward staring.
"Reading," he replied shortly.
"Oh. Are you in college?"
He gave me a look that was somewhere between amused and irritated. "No. I'm a resident doctor. Training to be a cardiologist."
A doctor. A hot, brooding doctor.
"That's hot, Mr. Doctor," I blurted out. My eyes went wide. Did I just say that out loud?
He gave me a puzzled, slightly smirking look, but didn't say anything. I buried my face in my milkshake, dying of embarrassment, until Hailey finally burst through the door five minutes later.
"Antonio! I didn't know you'd be home," she cried, kissing his cheek. He didn't answer, just gave a small nod. "Hey, baby! Sorry I'm late, traffic was hell."
She led me up to her room—a soothing lavender sanctuary. Which I loved.
"Hailey, how many brothers do you actually have?" I asked as soon as the door closed.
"Four," she sighed.
"Wow. That one… Antonio? He's incredibly hot."
"Eww! Stop," she laughed. "I thought you had a thing for Harry."
"Not really," I lied. My feelings for Harry were a messy knot I hadn't untangled yet. We spent the afternoon planning: a girls-only pool party for the morning of my birthday, followed by the main event at night.
The rest of the week was a blur of high school monotony. Harry had become "sweeter," but we still hadn't defined what we were. Then, on Wednesday, he just… vanished. He wasn't at lunch, and he wasn't answering texts. It felt like the floor had been pulled out from under me.
Thursday came, and I was more than ready to be done with school forever. Hailey went to volunteer, so I kept my promise to accompany Layla to her doctor's appointment. I hadn't heard from Harry in two days, and the "special connection" I thought we were building was starting to feel like a hallucination.
I freshened up at home, pulling my hair into a high ponytail and sticking to a basic top and baggy jeans. Layla pulled up in a grey Rolls Royce that looked like a sleek cloud.
"Hey, cutie," she said, hugging me.
"I love your car, Layla."
"Want one?" she teased.
"No. I want a Ferrari or a Lamborghini. Lavender," I replied.
"Bold choice. Get in, I'm almost late."
We arrived at the Kingston General Hospital—the biggest in the city.
"Wait for me in the cafeteria, Andy. I'll find you when I'm done," Layla said.
I wandered the halls for a bit, admiring the clinical neatness. I'd wanted to be a nurse when I was little, but now I felt like a blank page. I eventually found the cafeteria and bought a milkshake, sitting by the window to watch the New York skyline.
Ten minutes later, a figure in a white lab coat walked in. He looked even more lethal in professional gear. He walked straight toward my table.
"Hey. What are you doing here? Are you sick?" Antonio asked, looking genuinely concerned.
"No, I'm waiting for my dad's girlfriend."
"Ah. Good."
"So you really work here?" I asked.
"No," he said, his face deadpan. "I just like walking around different hospitals wearing lab coats for fun."
I laughed. "Sassy. I like it."
"It's fascinating, isn't it?" I continued. "Operating on a human heart?"
"It is," he said, leaning in. "I have the power to end a life, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "I wonder what it would feel like to hold your heart."
My heart did a somersault—half fear, half something else.
"Relax, schoolgirl. I'm kidding," he said, standing up. "How old are you again?"
"Eighteen on Saturday."
"Beautiful," he murmured. "I'll see you around, Andrea."
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine.
Friday was miserable. Harry finally showed up, sitting in Hailey's seat before she arrived.
"You've been scarce lately," I said, not looking at him.
"Just relaxing," he replied. He hadn't replied to a single text, and I could see he'd read them. Then, I noticed it—a fresh, angry scratch on his neck.
"What happened to your neck?"
"Nothing," he snapped. The silence that followed was freezing. He left before the bell rang.
"Are you guys a thing?" Brianna asked, watching him go. "The tension is insane."
"I don't know," I sighed. "He's always 'off.' One minute he's loving, the next he's a ghost. I can't do the games, Brianna."
I went home feeling heartbroken. Luckily, Dad and Layla were both there.
"Hey, cutie! I'm baking a cake. Want to help?" Layla asked.
I joined her in the kitchen, but my eyes kept darting to my phone. Nothing.
"Boy trouble?" Layla asked softly.
I spilled everything—the ghosting, the scratch on his neck, the confusion.
"Boys are dumb," she said, handing me a whisk. "Wait and see how he acts tomorrow. If he doesn't make an effort on your eighteenth, you have your answer."
Saturday morning. I was finally eighteen.
I walked into the kitchen to find Martha waiting with a milkshake. "Happy birthday, Andrea!"
"Thanks, Martha."
Then, my dad walked in, a rare, genuine smile on his face. He pulled me into a massive hug. "Happy birthday, princess. You're a big girl now."
I smiled, but in the back of my mind, I was already wondering: Which brother is going to show up today?