CHAPTER 20: THE WEEKEND

Chapter 20

JULIAN POLE

My mum insisted on driving us to the subway station after our failed attempts to convince her we could just take the bus. It’s only a thirty-minute ride, but she’s worried our luggage will be too much.

Now she’s saying she’ll drive us all the way to Manhattan. At this point, I’m not sure who’s more protective — her or us.

In case you’re wondering what’s going on, we’re currently packing for our short trip to Manhattan. It’s Friday, and the plan is to check into our hotel early, then explore the city a bit since the exhibition isn’t until tomorrow.

And honestly? It’s chaos basically, my life right now.

My friends slept over, which isn’t unusual; they practically live here. Half of their clothes are already in my closet, so they’re packing from here while my mum supervises, mostly because she doesn’t trust us not to forget something important—or to avoid overpacking things we’ll never use.

"What’s the time?" I asked from under a mountain of clothes.

"All these clothes smell," Mum muttered, holding up a T-shirt. Definitely not mine.

"It’s Rico’s," Luka blurted out.

"Do I really have to babysit all of you?" Mum sighed. "You’re all grown."

"We don’t have time for this, we’ve got places to be," Luka whined.

"We’re almost done," I said, muffled under the pile.

Rico shot me a glare mid-fold. "You’re lying under your clothes. How are we ready?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but Mum cut in before I could start.

"Alright, alright—before you start fighting again, I’ll clean up after I drive you."

Her tone left no room for discussion.

After what felt like forever, we were finally packed, ready, and on the road, talking about Thanksgiving break coming up next week as the city rolled by outside the window.

On getting to our destination, the first thing that hit me was how big everything looked. The hotel wasn’t just massive, it was breathtaking. The kind of place you see in movies and think, nah, that can’t be real. The lobby glimmered with chandeliers, all gold light and marble floors, and my friends immediately started planning a full-blown photoshoot before we even checked in.

By the time we made it to our room, I was already half in love with the place. There was one enormous bed in the center, easily the size of two of mine at home. If my tiny bed can handle the three of us piled on top of each other back home, then this monster could host a whole sleepover party.

Of course, my friends had the entire weekend mapped out. "First stop," Luka announced dramatically, "Central Park."

And we did go.

It was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes you forget about your phone for a second. The trees looked like they’d been painted on, the water shimmered under the late sun, and the city skyline framed everything like a perfect backdrop.

We went boat riding, Luka pretending to row while Rico yelled at him to stop splashing water. Then they dragged me to this open market that smelled like heaven. Rows of food from every country you could imagine. We stuffed our faces until we couldn’t move, laughed too loud, and still somehow ended up at a museum before the night was over.

By the time we were strolling back to the hotel, it was past nine. The streets glowed with that warm city-night color. Yellow lights bouncing off wet pavement, people rushing past with the smell of roasted nuts and coffee following them.

And then Luka, being Luka, decided it wasn’t enough.

"We should go to this party I heard about," he said, eyes lighting up like he’d just discovered fire.

Rico groaned. "No."

"Just for an hour! We’ll go, we’ll look, we’ll leave."

"No," Rico said again, deadpan.

Luka stopped walking and stood right in front of us, blocking the path like some stubborn cat. Rico sighed, the long, tired kind.

"What do you want now?" he asked, voice edged with exhaustion.

"Look," Luka said, gesturing to me. "Juju’s probably nervous about tomorrow."

"I’m not," I cut in, but he ignored me completely.

"He needs to burn off some steam. I literally saw him biting his nails all day. That’s anxiety, not excitement."

"He’s not nervous," Rico countered. "He’s just excited. You know that thing when something good’s about to happen and you can’t stop thinking about it? That’s what this is."

Luka crossed his arms. "No, it’s not."

Rico started walking again. "Can you stop whining and move?"

Luka didn’t. He lingered, muttering about the party. And then, finally, Rico stopped. Just stopped cold. Luka bumped into him with a soft "hey," but Rico turned to face him, eyes serious.

"You remember what happened last time you dragged us to a party?" Rico’s voice was low but sharp. "Now you wanna go to some random party in a city you don’t even know? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? Have you ever thought about that?"

"Stop yelling at me," Luka’s voice cracked, he was seconds from crying. He hates being yelled at, especially by us.

"It’s not like I forced you," he said, tears threatening his eyes. "You wanted to go too! So why are you yelling at me now?"

Rico’s expression softened, guilt flickering over his face. "I’m just saying—"

"Get the fuck out of my way." Luka pushed him, but Rico didn’t budge, he’s too big, too solid, and too tall.

So I stepped aside and made space for Luka to pass. He stormed ahead, shoulders stiff.

When he was a few steps ahead, I turned to Rico. "Dude."

"I know, I know." He dragged a hand down his face, sighing. "I was just trying to—" he exhaled hard, "I’ll talk to him."

"You better," I said, watching Luka’s back disappear into the blur of city lights.

When we finally got back to the hotel, it was late.The kind of late where everything feels muted and heavy. We were standing in front of the elevator, exhaustion sitting right between us.

"Ain’t you gonna talk to me?" Rico asked, voice soft but still laced with guilt.

"Leave me alone," Luka muttered, arms crossed tight, lower lip jutting out in a pout. That pout — honestly, it’s the only thing keeping him from crying.

They kept going back and forth, whispering sharp words under their breath while I just stood there wishing the elevator would hurry up already. The lobby doors slid open and—

It’s Aiko.

What the hell is she doing here?

She glided in like she owned the place, flanked by men in black suits who screamed bodyguards. Her presence turned heads immediately. Then her eyes found me.

And there it was again — that same cold, probing look she gave me the first time I met her with Enzo. My stomach twisted, every tiny hair on my arm standing upright.

How long does it take for an elevator to open?

The second it dinged, we practically dove inside. Rico and Luka were still snapping at each other, but my mind was stuck replaying that stare.

When we reached our floor and got into our room, everything felt quieter — too quiet. We all showered and got ready for bed. Rico kept trying to talk to Luka, but Luka kept turning his back, muttering, "Leave me alone." He even angled his body away when we lay down, like Rico’s very existence offended him. Drama queen.