and sugar to put an elephant in a coma.
I head upstairs and back into my room.
Prue is already on the bed again and Xander is sitting up, his hair a mess.
“I think we should stay in bed and watch TV all day,” he declares.
“Sounds good to me,” I agree, climbing in bed.
I giggle as he pulls me over and in-between his legs. “Charmed?” he asks. “We have one season left.”
I nod. “Let’s do it. Rip it off like a Band-Aid.” He chuckles. “Hey,” I defend, “it’s always sad ending a show we love.”
“Yeah, but we get to start a new one.”
“True,” I agree, and then laugh when Prue licks my toes. “That tickles.”
Xander grabs the remote and starts the show and soon I’m sucked into the mysterious world of the Halliwell sisters.
We’re halfway thru the second episode when Cade barges into the room. I’m not surprised to see the newspaper dangling from his fingertips.
“Did you see this?” He tosses the newspaper on the bed and Xander grabs it. “This is unbelievable.” Xander scans the article and hisses between his teeth. “An interview?” He puts his hands on his hips and paces my room. “Is he out of his mind? Like I’m going to talk to him?”
“Cade,” I say hesitantly, “I think you should talk. Maybe not to Stan, but to a journalist you respect. You speaking out could help a lot of kids.”
Cade winces. “Talking about it is difficult.”
“I know,” I say softly. “But think about when you were younger. If someone you had respected had come out that they were abused, maybe it would’ve helped.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters. “Fuck.”
I know I’ve finally gotten to him, so I continue. “I think you should see a therapist too.”
“Thea, I don’t need a fucking shrink. I’m not a crazy person. I’m not Dad.”
“I know that, but sometimes you need someone who’s not family or a friend to talk to. Someone with an unbiased opinion on the situation. Think about it,” I plead.
Cade sighs, his jaw clenched tight. “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” he agrees reluctantly. He claps his hands together and says, “Let’s go out for breakfast.”
I lift my head and look at Xander. “We’re having a lazy day,” I say.
Cade snorts. “Every day is a lazy day for you two. You’re couch potatoes.”
“Hey,” I defend. “I went to the gym twice this summer.”
He gives me a look. “Yeah, twice.”
“I go every day.” Xander raises his hand. “Plus, practice.”
I glare at him. “Yeah, well, you’re an overachiever.”
“Breakfast,” Cade says again. “Let’s go. We all have to eat and you can have your lazy day later.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “You’re so annoying. Go pester your girlfriend.”
He heads for the door and hollers, “Breakfast!” before he closes the door.
“We need to move,” I tell Xander. “Stat.”
He chuckles. “About that …”
“What?” I look over my shoulder at him.
He brushes my hair over my shoulder. “With my paycheck I can afford for us to have our own place. I didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t want to push you, but it’s a possibility. Think about it.”
I swallow thickly and push down the panic. I know what I just said, but I meant it jokingly.
“What about when I go back to school?” I ask.
“We can get something close to there.”
“But then you’ll have to commute,” I remind him.
He laughs. “If we get something in the city you’ll have to commute.”
I press my lips together. “I don’t even want to go back to school,” I admit. “I feel so lost there, like I don’t belong. I hate being this clueless on what I want to do.” I take a sip of coffee, irritated by how cold it already is.
“You’ll figure it out,” Xander assures me.
I sigh. “I hope so.”
It sucks not having any idea what I want to do with my life. Nothing makes me feel excited or warm and fuzzy inside. I don’t want to pick something and settle, and end up unhappy for the rest of my life. I want to do something I love and ultimately make a change in the world.
“Breakfast!” we hear yelled again.
I laugh and slide my legs to the side and off the bed. “Man, he’s determined.”
Xander shrugs and stretches his arms above his head. I might ogle his chest shamelessly as he does that, but with the show his muscles put on how can you blame me?
“He’s worried about you,” he says, standing and oh Lord, the way his sweatpants sit low on his