“Excuse me!” 

A magazine was slapped down on the table the following Sunday. Aria and I had gathered at our parents’ house for our weekly family brunch. 

“Would you care to explain what this is?”

I looked up from my coffee. Aria stood on the opposite side of our parents’ dining table, hands on her hips as she glowered down at me. Apparently talk of the weather or upcoming award seasons were conversation topics too mild for my sister.

My gaze fell to the tabloid in question. Aria’s latest magazine haul featured an edition of People on top of the pile. The headline read, TROYE’S ROMANTIC RENDEAVOUZ WITH NEW BO. The tagline read, Kendall Rose’s first brush with modern American royalty on Californian soil. Read the details on page 6!

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I muttered, eyes sweeping over the magazine. Printed on the cover was a photo of Kendall and I from our gallery trip earlier in the week. This had to be at least the eighth story I’d seen printed using photos from that day to spin some romantic narrative. 

“Is it true?” Aria demanded.

A cover line from Us Weekly caught my eye. “That I’m thinking of going blonde? After Zac Efron did it, I figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“Not that,” Aria said. “The magazine! You and Kendall Rose!”

I stared wide-eyed at my sister. “What?”

Our parents stood in the kitchen behind us. The small radio in the corner was playing some eighties tune. Mom stood at the bench, humming along sweetly as she sliced strawberries and placed them in a small dish. Dad was at the stove, folding an omelette and smiling quietly as he listened to his wife sing. Every now and then they would exchange a word or two before getting lost again in their own little worlds. They weren’t listening to our conversation.

Aria seemed to realise I’d checked out too because she reached over the table and slapped me upside the head. “You went on a date and didn’t tell me? Troye!”

“Ow!” I batted her hand away. “Geez, woman! Stop hitting me. I didn’t go on a date. It was for work.”

“Work.” Aria deadpanned. “Work that had you strolling through Penville Botanical in the middle of the day with one of Europe’s most notorious fashion models? Work that saw you photographed riding shotgun in Kendall Rose’s convertible?” 

“It wasn’t like that. Nothing happened.”

Aria picked up a magazine from the pile, flipping it open in a practiced manoeuvre and reading directly from the feature article. “OK! says this was your fourth date and that you and Kendall ate gelato before adopting a puppy together.”

I frowned. “Damn, I have a puppy with Kendall Rose? I hope it’s at least something cute like a border collie. Or a golden retriever. Do you think Kendall likes golden retrievers? We probably named him something like Cooper or Alphie. Those are couples’ dog names, right? Or should it be something more masculine like Rex or Diego? Maybe-“

“Troye.” 

I laughed softly, taking a sip of my coffee. “It’s not true, Ari. You know People are the biggest hoarders of sensationalism. The media thrives off it.”

“That doesn’t stop the speculation.”

“No, but it doesn’t confirm the rumours either.”

“So,” Aria said slowly, “you didn’t go on a date with Kendall Rose?”

I shook my head once. “I absolutely did not go on a date with Kendall Rose. Our stroll was strictly professional. No rendezvous of any kind.”

“What did you guys do then?”

Putting my mug down, I ticked the items off on each finger. “He took me to a vegan restaurant, then we visited a rescue shelter - Kendall’s really passionate about animals - walked around town and went to an art gallery near Studio City.”

Aria gaped at me.

I frowned. “What?”

My sister’s expression widened. “How is that not a date?”

“What about any of those places gives off a date vibe?”

“Troye,” Aria pulled the chair out beside me and sat down, fingers drumming along the table top. “He took you to all his favourite places and he’s been in L.A for less than two months.”

“So?”

“So, that means he found them especially for you!”

I laughed again. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Am I?” Aria raised an eyebrow. “Because none of that sounds like work to me.”

“This is my job,” I said. “Claire wants to use my experience to held integrate the new hires into company life. It’s strategic.”

Aria sighed. “Oh, baby brother of mine. She’s setting you up.”

I laughed once. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay, what else would you call sending off two gorgeous, age-appropriate and extremely single models on an afternoon rendezvous for absolutely no reason?”

“I don’t think extremely was necessa-“

“And it’s only been a month since one of those models arrived home in LA, and suddenly the other moves here.”

“That’s not-“

“Not to mention, they just happen to choose a spot in all of the city where photographers notoriously lurk.”

“I really didn’t-“

“Woah, it sounds like we’re on the set for Rent over here.” Mom sat down on the opposite side of the table, fruit bowl in hand. “What’s got you two so riled up?”

Aria grinned wickedly, looking at our mother. “Troye’s been set up on a date.”

Mom’s gaze snapped to me. “A date? With who?”

“It wasn’t a-“

“Kendall Rose.” Aria supplied, unhelpfully.

“Kendall Rose?” Mom cocked a brow. “The French model? Didn’t he just sign with your company?”

“Yes. He did,” I said, looking pointedly at my sister, “and that’s why I’m helping him settle in. As friends.”

Mom glanced down at Aria’s magazine pile. “Well, it certainly didn’t take them long to assume otherwise, did it?”

Aria jumped in delight at the moral support. “Exactly! This is only half of what I saw on my way over here this morning.”

“Since when do you even follow the tabloids?” I cut in. “You stopped reading them after that British reporter thought you were running an underground drug syndicate with Adele.”

Aria sighed. “You release one song about the drug afflictions amongst American youth and suddenly you’re a mafia boss.” She perked up then, smiling dreamily in wonder. “On the other hand, can you even imagine how amazing it would be running a business with Adele? She seems like a real go-getter, you know?”

“You would know. She’s been your competition in the nominees for Favourite Pop Album twice already.”

“Yes, and while I was extremely fortunate enough to win, I still feel bad because 25 deserved an AMA. Perhaps she and I should start our own awards show? We could have categories like Girl Boss of the Year and Best Breakup Album. It’s time we stopped pitting women against each other in the music industry.”

“There’s that spark of entrepreneurship I love and adore.” Mom gazed at Aria fondly. 

I chuckled. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

My sister shrugged. “I don’t read them religiously or anything. Just enough to keep tabs on what’s got people talking. It’s like Mom and Dad always said. We have to stay one step ahead of the narrative so we’re not caught off guard.”

“OK! once wrote I married a sheep.” Mom said thoughtfully. “That’s the last time I ever attend a friend’s barn-themed wedding, no matter how cute their pig ring-bearer looked in his little yellow booties.”

Aria and I both turned slowly to gape at her.

Mom grinned. “It wasn’t true, of course. They printed a lot of nonsense in the eighties, even compared to now. People will write anything to make a quick buck. They once believed your father was part of an organised heist to rob Dunkin’ Donuts for a while. The conspiracy ran for six weeks before it turned out that the group were all former employees dressed in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes who quit after they discontinued the Glazed Fairy donut line.”

“Ah, the good old days.” Dad said, appearing at the table. He placed a large dish piled high with waffles down in the centre of the table. Pulling a chair out, he sat down beside his wife and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, smiling sweetly at her. “Remember how I had to make a public statement declaring I had no affiliation with the group? I mean, they were turtle vigilantes and I was in a three-thousand dollar business suit. What role did they expect me to play in the showdown?”

“The handsome lawyer who bailed them out of jail, and fought for their right to their termination packages so they would turn away from a life of petty crime.” Mom said playfully, kissing her husband sweetly.

Aria was intently reading one of the articles in her lap, having checked out of the conversation right around the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles mark. “They’re saying Troye and Kendall bought a refurbished villa in the southern region of France and plan on spending Christmas there with his family.”

“They did?” Mom said, before looking directly to me. “You are? Oh, how lovely. Just don’t stray too far north. You know how your allergies get.”

“Can we be done with this conversation?” I asked. 

Dad had pulled a different magazine from the pile. Apparently sharing his daughter’s subscription to a lack of scruples in the fourth estate, he gazed at it wondrously. “This one says you’ve already booked an appointment with a wedding planner. From Sweden.”

“I don’t know any Swedish wedding planners!”

“You do according to Elle Roth at Star Magazine.”

I groaned and banged my head on the table.

Dad rubbed my back sympathetically. “It’ll blow over in a week or two. The train of gossip never stops moving.”

“How’s Kendall settling in?” Mom asked, and I shot her a grateful look for the subject change. “Does he like L.A?”

“So far so good. He’s booked solid for the month. Word around the company is that two major fashion houses are in dispute to launch him as the face of their new accessory lines.”

“He’s making quite the splash then.”

“He was already major before he came over here.” I said. “Forbes listed him in their 30 Under 30 Europe two years ago.”

Aria had taken a seat at this point. She stabbed a cube of watermelon, popping it in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully before saying, “If he’s so major, why does he need you as a mentor?”

I sat back in my chair. “I wouldn’t call myself a mentor at this point. We’re not that far apart in age or professional experience. I think Claire just wants me to act as his welcome guide at the company.”

“I’m sure that’s what she wants.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, gazing directly at my sister. “Ari, she’s my boss. It would be completely unprofessional of her to even try and play matchmaker on company soil.”

“But you’re not on company soil.” Aria threw one leg across the other, her floral wrap dress riding up her thigh. She fussed with it as she said, “You’re sitting on a park bench in the middle of the day, smiling like sunshine at someone you met five seconds ago.”

“Okay, now you’re starting to sound like all those reporters.” I laughed.

“My point is,” Aria gave up on fixing her dress and planted both feet on the floor, watching me. “The tabloids can write all they want. Friend, lover, charades partner, whatever. But those photos are true. Just because you’re not looking for love, it doesn’t mean it can’t find you.”

Mom placed a hand on Aria’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Aria took the hint and leaned back in her chair. She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Just something to think about.”

The conversation picked up from there. Dad and Aria started debating which Spiderman was the best in the latest film. Mom sat back and watched them argue, a glint in her eye as she smiled between them, refusing to play mediator.

My plate was still full but I no longer felt like eating. I wasn’t mad at Aria. She’d only ever looked out for me since we were kids. Picking me up when I fell off my bike and skinned my knee, getting a concussion my junior year when I’d decided to try out for the football team, breaking my arm falling off the roof when I was seven. And, though I hated to remember the burden I’d placed on her, putting me back together each time I’d had my heart broken.

For all the similar things we’d been through, it wasn’t hard to imagine why she was my best friend and partner in crime two decades down the track. We might not have been twins, but we were definitely two halves that made a whole. I couldn’t remember a day I hadn’t loved and admired my older sister.

But what she was trying to get at now - and Mom and Dad too - was wrong. I appreciated that they were trying to help but this wasn’t what I needed. 

My decision to have strictly platonic relationships for the rest of my life was a big one but it was necessary. A great romantic and explosive love story was something I’d been sold on as a kid but my four years in London had taught me that wasn’t the kind of love that mattered the most. Not when there was an entire world of experiences waiting for me beyond my door. Maybe Kendall Rose was one of them.

And all I needed from my family was love and support. I couldn’t change what the tabloids wrote.

Brunch ended when Aria announced she was headed to the studio downtown for a writing session. Mom was meeting up with some old friends in the city, which left Dad to do the grocery shopping.

“Want to join me, kid?” Dad asked, stacking plates into the dishwasher as we cleaned up the table. Mom had gone upstairs and Aria was on the phone outside on the patio. “It’s been years since you last came shopping with your old man.”

“That’s because you get lose all the time,” I laughed. “There’s only so long I can stare at soup cans while you figure out what we need, Dad.”

“Your mother’s handwriting is hard to read,” Dad said, then his eyes widened. “Don’t tell her I said that. We already went through it when I had to re-write every thankyou note for our wedding gifts cause no one could understand what your mother’s said.”

“That was twenty-four years ago.”

“And she still loops her r’s like there’s no tomorrow.”

I laughed again. “Sure, I’ll come. I’m picking up some furniture later this afternoon but I’ve got time.”

Dad ruffled my hair. “Well, look at you go. Man, I remember my first apartment. The only piece of furniture I had was a drum kit. Then your mom moved in and suddenly my place looked like it belonged in Architectural Digest.” 

“Sounds like Mom.” 

Dad and I spent the next couple of hours at the supermarket. It felt ridiculous to be wearing sunglasses inside on a day the sky was overcast but it beat dealing with the blinding flashes of reporter’s cameras. I could only imagine the headlines. Troye Evans’ Domestic Lifestyle! Up this week: Grocery Shopping!

I helped Dad put away the groceries before heading home myself. There was still time before I was scheduled to pick up the new furniture I’d bought so I pulled out my phone and opened up Kendall and my text chain. The last message had been from only two hours ago. 

Lunch tomorrow?