One
"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" James stood, his forehead shiny with sweat and a grin plastered across his face. I rolled my eyes.
"Nothing like a good workout, eh, Tori?"
"Yeah, right. If you think ninety-five comes after twenty, you need more than a history tutor," I teased. "And I heard you skipping numbers. Nice try, cheater."
"Darn it. Here I was thinking I had you fooled," he said, stalking closer with that same grin.
"It's gonna take a lot more than that to fool me, Walter. I'm smarter than you, remember," I sassed, sticking my tongue out at him. I backed away, laughing, but he caught me in a headlock, his sticky arms trapping me in a sweaty hug.
"Ew, James! That's gross!" I shrieked, wriggling free and darting toward the back door. He was hot on my heels, his laughter echoing behind me. I barely made it to the stairs before he tackled me, his weight pinning me to the floor.
"Okay, okay, truce!" I wheezed, tapping the ground in surrender. For a skinny dude, he sure did weigh a lot, I thought as he pinned me.
"Say I'm the most hot-bodied creature you've ever laid eyes on," he demanded, his grin widening when I deadpanned him. When I didn't respond, he pressed down harder, making me yelp.
"Alright, alright! Aunt Rachel! James is being a bully again!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, earning a glare from my captor.
"Really, T? Tattling on me? Real mature," he said, rolling his eyes. "We're not five, you know?"
I blew a raspberry at him, and before he could retaliate, Aunt Rachel marched into the room.
"James William Walter! Get off that sweet child—you weigh a ton!" She rained a few slaps on his back, making him wince and release me.
"Mama..." he whined, pouting dramatically. "You're always siding with Tori. Am I really your son?"
"Of course not," she replied, fighting a smile. "Have you already forgotten the story of how I pulled you from the dumpster fifteen years ago?"
I giggled. "No wonder you always look like trash," I commented and his Mom chuckled. She helped me up after the ton of bricks was off me and I couldn't help wincing as I moved my arms.
"Fat ass," I muttered.
"Chicken legs," he retorted with a laugh as I looked down at my legs with a frown.
His mum shook her head with a smile, before walking away. I followed behind, stopping to stare at a photo of James and me on top the counter. The frame was slightly askew—just like everything in this house. Unlike my place where everything had its proper spot, perfectly measured and aligned. My fingertips itched to straighten it, but I resisted. This small chaos was part of what made this house feel more like home than my own lately.
James came up behind me, poking my side. "Hey, remember when we took that? Dad's camera timer went off early and you were mid-sneeze."
"And yet I still look better than you, dumpster boy." I quipped, elbowing him gently.
James and I have been best friends since the sixth grade. He's also my cousin—6'1", athletic build with messy brown hair that he never quite manages to control, light blue eyes, and a mischievous grin that makes it hard not to laugh.
We're opposites in many ways—where he's all chaotic energy and spontaneity, I'm structure and planning. I like having a hand in things—keeping James out of trouble, making sure family dinners go smoothly—but sometimes I wonder if anyone notices how much effort it takes. Or if they just expect it from me.
"Hey, I resent that dumpster comment!" James protested, following us into the kitchen where his mom was already pulling out ingredients for lunch. "I'll have you know I was found in a very prestigious recycling bin. Premium cardboard only."
"Sure you were, honey," his mom patted his cheek. "That's why you came with all those pizza box stains."
I hopped onto the kitchen counter, earning a look from Aunt Rachel that I promptly ignored. The kitchen smelled like garlic and fresh herbs as she chopped vegetables, the rhythmic thud of the knife against the cutting board filling the room.
"Remember when you tried to convince me we weren't related?" I asked, stealing a cherry tomato from the salad.
James grinned. "I still maintain that was a completely reasonable conclusion. How was I supposed to know my lab partner was my cousin?"
"Maybe because we'd met at family reunions?"
"You were the girl who kept stealing my juice boxes! How was I supposed to make the connection?"
Aunt Rachel shook her head. "I still can't believe neither of you figured it out until I picked you both up after school."
"Well, someone hadn't been bringing us to family reunions regularly," I pointed out, making my aunt pause her chopping with a guilty smile.
"And it all worked out perfectly," she said. "My master plan to get the families close again succeeded."
"Master plan?" James scoffed. "Mom, you just forgot to tell us we were cousins when Tori enrolled at my school."
"A happy accident then," she declared proudly. "Besides, if I hadn't insisted on 'family sticking together,' you two wouldn't have ended up sharing that squashed sandwich under the lab table while hiding from Mr. Parker."
"Now children," she interrupted before we could start another argument, though she was fighting a smile. "If you're done rehashing middle school, maybe you could help with lunch? Unless you'd rather hear about all those embarrassing baby photos I've been saving to show Tori?"
"No thanks," James groaned and turned, already reaching for the plates to set the table.
- - -
"Hey, so I'm hanging out with Jordan tomorrow," James said, scrolling through his phone as we headed back to his room. "He's got this wild idea about trying to build a mini rocket using stuff from the hardware store."
I rolled my eyes. "The same Jordan who helped you 'improve' Mrs. Peterson's chem lab experiment last semester? Wasn't detention enough for you two?"
James's room was a familiar chaos—sports jerseys draped over chairs, textbooks stacked haphazardly on the desk, and the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
"That wasn't our fault!" James protested, flopping onto his bed. "How were we supposed to know it would react like that? Even Peterson said our theory was sound."
"Yeah, right before she gave you both a week of after-school cleanup," I reminded him. "Your mom was furious."
James grinned, unrepentant. "Worth it though. Jordan's got this way of making even detention fun. He's like a human tornado—chaotic, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. You'd hate him," his grin widened. "You know what he did? Convinced Peterson to let us reorganize the supply closet our way, which meant we got to label everything with these ridiculous scientific puns."
I shook my head. "Sounds like you two are the perfect disaster duo."
"That's why we get along so well," James said, his tone suggesting this was obvious. "Jordan gets me. He doesn't ask why, he asks how fast." He tossed his phone aside. "You should actually meet him sometime, T. You might even like him."
"I doubt it," I replied dryly. "Anyone who encourages your worst ideas is automatically on my suspicious list."
"Jordan Norman, suspicious?" James laughed. "The guy who tutors freshmen for free and helps old ladies with their groceries? Even my mom likes him, and she sees through everyone."
"That just makes me more suspicious," I countered. "Nobody's that perfect."
James just smirked in a way that made me uncomfortable. "Whatever you say, cousin. Whatever you say."
"Why do people think that one's spirit can leave their body when they sleep facing upwards?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.
"Because their body is facing towards the upward astral plane. Makes it easier for the spirit to zoom in and out... Oh my God, you really believe a word I'm saying?" James laughed and I swatted his arm.
"Jackass," I called out. "Why do you have to always make fun of me?"
"We're cousins," he deadpanned. "I'm sure there's a chapter about that somewhere in the unspoken rule book, right beside the one where guys never call their sisters pretty," he laughed.
"Hardy, har, har," I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the smile on my face. Sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, casting zebra-stripe shadows across James's bedroom floor. The familiar scent of his room was oddly comforting. This space had been my second home for years now.
There was silence as he went back to his phone, his thumbs tapping rhythmically against the screen. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, just slightly off-balance so it made that tick-tick-tick sound I'd grown used to. I spun slowly in his desk chair, watching dust motes dance in the sunbeams while contemplating whether I should start my history paper or procrastinate like James always did.
"Can I ask a question?" He rolled to his side on the bed, suddenly serious. The shift in his tone made me stop spinning, my stomach doing that little drop it always did when James got philosophical. These moments were rare enough that I knew to pay attention.
"Sure. Ask away," I replied.
He now sat up, cross legged on the bed, his demeanor changing from playful to solemn. "This question is a very intentional question."
I swiveled the chair to face him, catching the intense gaze of his blue eyes. "Okay..."
He let out a breath. "Why is it that being a self aware person, you try to know and understand someone that you're rolling with, either as a friend. You try your best to truly feel for that person, care for the person, be empathetic towards that person —" he raised an eyebrow at me, "you know what empathy means, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes," I nodded.
"Good," he smiled and continued, "so, you're empathetic towards that person, you understand that person, if possible you're able to read that person's mind or know what the person would want, but then that person in return sees it as a big job, or a chore to do the same for you."
He looked up at me. "Why?"
I sat there for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then I leaned forward, my voice soft but sure.
"Being the friend who pays attention to everything isn't exactly a walk in the park," I said, fidgeting with my sleeve. "It's like you're sharing your favorite songs, but they never hit play. Or they listen for five seconds and skip to the next track."
He watched me intently, actually listening for once instead of jumping to his next thought.
"But here's the thing—you notice stuff because you care. The way someone's voice lights up when they talk about something they love, or how they get that little crease between their eyebrows when they're upset... that's not just trivia. It's who you are." I shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "And yeah, it sucks when you're putting in all this effort to really get someone, and they can't even remember your birthday without a Facebook notification."
I smiled slightly, playing with the hem of my sleeve. "But you know what? The world needs people like you. People who choose to look deeper, who make the effort to really know others. Because one day, you'll find people who speak your language of caring, who'll notice all the little things you planted there."
He was quiet for a moment, his earlier frustration softening around the edges.
"And until then," I added gently, "don't let anyone make you feel like your way of caring is too much. It's not a fault in you that you choose to understand people so completely. It's actually kind of beautiful."
- - - - - - - - -
Hello 👋
Welcome to my book. Thank you so much for checking out this work of mine. When I first started, I didn't really have much except for some prompt words that made this story what it is now. After creating each scene and piecing them together, viola! We have a beautiful story full of laughter, pain, cheesy moment, family game nights and love.
This is a teen fiction story that I hope brings as much smiles to your face as it brought to mine.
What do you think about James and Tori?
And Rachel too? I love her witty banter with the kids?
Please remember to like 🌟, comment 💬 and don't forget to give this book some love❤️❤️.
