The Naturals | O.S

Woah, Baby!

KATHLEEN

"Sloane's coming in the morning, right?" Lia asks me, curving her back against the marble counter top in such a way that has me highly concerned for her spine.

"Yea, she wanted to spend the first few days of Spring Break with Celine down in California. Little Miss Delacroix had a thing or two up her sleeve," a small smirk graces my lips and Lia winces almost immediately. "We're halfway through our second year of university, we all need a break. Sloane's was in Cali."

An abrupt spurt of laughter exits her mouth, so forcefully that she's got to raise a hand to stifle the rest. "Ain't that the truth. Mine is out at some junkyard sale with Judd. Yours is in the garage, and— Maddox is still single right?"

"HEY!" A disembodied voice shouts, and we turn in unison to see the boy in question walking through the door. He holds his fist to his chest as if wounded. "You've known me for more than two years, Lia. Two years."

"And for those two years you've been single."

"Yes I have," he agrees. "But that doesn't mean I'm not getting any action." I cringe, making a sound of disgust as I lift a stack of bowls off of the island. Bringing them to the cupboard I throw a curse over my shoulder, resulting in two sets of chuckles.
"You're right about a break though," Maddie continues. "School is the worst."

"You have a computer networking major," Lia says flatly.

"More than that," he snaps back. "It can be hard."

"Because hacking the Directors phone is so tasking," I add in with a bored tone. Maddox grunts, picking up a rag and chucking it at my face. "Ew!" I shout as it slaps against my cheek, plopping to the ground. "That's wet!"

"Why don't you go find that boyfriend of yours. We all have to hide anyways. Judd's almost home, and Michael only got here this morning. That means those two," he points a finger at Lia, "Have had no alone time. And at this point neither would care enough to find someplace private to do whatever it is they do."

"You're a big boy, Mad Hatter, say it with me," Lia says, grabbing his face in the same way you would a child, squeezing his cheeks as she annunciate's the word, "Sex."

He jerks away from her hold, choking on a laugh as he exits the room, though not without ruffling my hair. "He's right," Lia tells me, monotone. "We're gonna go into his room," she takes a step towards me. "He's gonna take off my shirt, and then—"

"Okay, Okay!" I cut her off, raising my hands in surrender as I rush out of the kitchen, heading for the place I know Dean to be.

Taking a step into the familiar garage of our Victorian home sends a wave of déjà vu down my spine. The expected thwack of Deans fists plowing into the plastic of the punching bag fills the air, each calculated swing causing a feeling of excitement to rise in my stomach. The black ink of his tattoo shines through the sheen of sweat on his bicep, and the sight makes me bite my lip.

The image is an unalome, a symbol that represents the journey to enlightenment. Sometimes the path isn't always straight, or perfect, or even the one we expect. A path to awakening is one full of missteps, lessons to learn, and suffering.

I don't know about you, but I think we've endured our fair share of sufferable events.

He's shirtless, grey sweats hanging low on his hips, revealing the top of his v-line every time his hips sway in my direction.

"Hey pretty boy?" I shout, trying to be heard over his beats of tension, each punch that collides with the bag creating a heat that could set fire to a match. He ceases his attack almost immediately.