* * * * * * * * * *

I looked at me dad, ready to make some sarcastic comment like, "Oh no, he can't, he's a vampire and he doesn't eat food, but he was planning on sucking me dry so we should just burn him to ashes and then we can enjoy our little family meal."

But instead, I found myself squealing in surprise as my ass landed on the floor in a big THUMP.

What the hell?

I looked up to see Blake's face going all guilty and awkward.

And then I started to laugh, even though my ass hurt like crazy and stupid jerk had dropped me on the floor.

"What the hell? Why'd you drop me?" I asked him.

Blake looked at me and then at my father like a kid caught stealing a cookie.

"Where did you find this one, kid?" my father said, a grin plastered on his face.

"Cheap deal on Craig's List," I answered still laughing and got back on my feet without any help from Mister I-Have-No-Coordination-And-I-Drop-People, rubbing my hurt butt.

"Well, however you paid you got robbed kid," my father answered laughing, but then he glared at Blake. "Son, I'm going to tell you this just once. I worked for a butcher in my early years and I ain't afraid of using these skills on some hormonal teenager," he informed him in a strict almost scary voice.

I had a hard time not bursting into laughter.

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir. I'll leave now," Blake said in a rush and he seriously looked freaked out.

By then my father pretty much laughed in his face.

"Seriously kid, where did you get this one?" dad asked me, taking a breath to calm himself, leaning on my door frame.

"The real question is how do I get rid of him daddy," I answered and walked towards my father, looking back at Blake who had a dumbstruck expression on his face.

Ha. Ha. HA!

"Easy. You sleep with him. When they get what they want they don't come bothering you anymore," my father replied and laughed even more.

I heard Blake gasp.

I knew actually what Blake must have been thinking. In the name of all that is holy, what kind of father is that? Well, that was my dad. My dad who knew me. He might not have known everyone I hung out with, or every detail about my life, but he knew me, the real buried-deep-inside-my-guts me. And he knew he didn't need to worry.

Blake, on the other hand, seriously looked like a trucker in a Tupperware party--completely confused.

"Stop making that face, son. You'll get grey hair prematurely. Don't worry, I didn't work with a butcher. But I worked in a coffee shop and I can grind your nuts," my father informed him and laughed even harder, but I just stared at him this time.

"Dad. No. That one wasn't funny," I told him dryly.

"You're losing your sense of humor kid," he said and then he looked around him. "Where's your brother?"

I shrugged. "Out with some bimbo."

"Damn kid! Well, that means more fish for us. So are you staying son?" my father asked, looking at Blake.

Seriously, I was really sad that I didn't have a camera close by because the face Blake was making was simply priceless.

"Is he dumb?" my father asked me since Blake still wasn't answering.

"Not in the mute sense, but yes in the brain damage one," I replied and laughed.

"I'm... a little...confused," Blake trailed slowly, frowning.

My father and I burst into laughter.

"Of course you are. Now, let's get this dinner ready otherwise we'll never eat," my father said and stepped out of my room.

"That's your dad?" Blake asked, emphasizing on the dad, the second my father was out of hearing range.

"Hmm, DUH," was my only reply.

"No wonder you're so weird," Blake mumbled.

"Hey! I. Am. Not. Weird!"

"Oh, you are!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"NOT!"

"Hope you aren't allergic to sea food because Lexi's reanimation skills aren't that good!" my father yelled downstairs and I rolled my eyes.

"Dad! Once! That was once. I was ten. How was I supposed to know mouth to mouth wasn't an option when you have an allergic reaction?" I yelled back.

Blake looked at me and now he was the one laughing.

"Yeah, laugh all you want. You wouldn't have if you had been the one giving mouth to mouth to your seventy years old perfume soaked aunt, who wasn't aware that there were chestnuts, in a chestnut cake," I informed him dryly.

It was a life-scaring experience. To that date, I hadn't been able to go anywhere near chestnuts or my aunt Patsy.

When I walked into the kitchen, Blake following close behind, my father was still laughing.

It was good to see him laughing that much in a row. I was scared it wouldn't come back again. We had all been pretty low these past few months, and it felt good to have my father smiling and laughing and not looking like he was thinking about my mom.

That was the only reason why I wasn't kicking Blake out of the house, because my father seemed to enjoy teasing him and I didn't want my dad to get all gloomy again.

I sat at the counter and took a shrimp from the plate and dipped it in the red sauce, while looking at my dad, putting lemon juice over the salmon.

I love seafood night. Before, when my mom was still here we would eat steak. Like literally steak was almost all we ate. You get tired of it after seventeen years. Ever since she left we hadn't ate any and I was pretty happy about it. That was one thing I surely didn't miss.

"So, you got a name kid?" my father asked as he put the fish in the oven.

"Blake Eaton," he answered, still standing by the arch, leaning against it actually, not walking into the kitchen like he was watching the scene before him.

"Oh I know you," my father said as he took a few shrimps for himself.

"You do?" Blake answered and he looked scared again.

"Of course! You're the football's team running back. You've been doing a great job so far. I mean usually running backs are broader and shorter, but I gotta give it to you son, you sure can push through a defense," my father said with enthusiasm while I poured myself a big glass of Pepsi.

"Well thanks," Blake said to my dad and he looked relieved.

"Want some?" I asked Blake, gesturing to the Pepsi and he nodded.

I gave him a glass, yes I can be civilized thank you very much, and then went to sit back on my stool by the shrimps while my father cut vegetables to put in the rice with our fish.

"Oh and also, the school principal called at my business once because one of my employee's daughter had been caught in the school pool unauthorized with a boy named Blake Eaton," my father said like he was telling us it would be sunny tomorrow and Blake who had been drinking his Pepsi spit it out everywhere.

"I'm not picking that up for you," I said to Blake and threw him the roll of paper towels.

My father laughed again. "So, now you mind telling me why you were in my daughter's room at..." he looked at the clock on the oven, "seven-forty-six?"

"I was just..." Blake started to answer, while wiping himself and the floor but I cut him.

"He's stalking me!"

"So maybe I shouldn't invite him for dinner, right?" my father asked, his voice thoughtful.

"I'm not stalking her, she's helping me with school work," Blake explained shaking his head at me, and smiling a dim smirk, but still a smirk.

So that might have been the answer to say considering he was probably going to have to come back here if I was really helping him, but whatever! In my mind, someone that popped in your room unannounced was a stalker.

"Extracurricular activity?" dad asked with an evil smile.

Okay, now the whole cool-dad was kinda getting annoying.

"He wishes," I mumbled, shoving another shrimp in my mouth.

This dinner, heck this whole day was really getting into a strange nightmare.

I looked at Blake and I could see he was repressing himself from making a snotty comment back. But he just shook his head, smirking a little bit more and gathered all the wet paper towels.

"Huh, where's the garbage?" Blake asked.

"Right here son," my father answered and opened the door under the sink where the garbage was but then stopped his movement and frowned. "Why is there puke in there?"

Ooops...

"I won the cracker contest," I answered smugly.

"So that would be Ty's?" my father stated.

"Yope! He tried to eat it by the way!" I informed him while Blake threw the paper towel with a frown on his eyebrows and a grimace on his lips.

Oooh! That was something I hadn't thought about. If I grossed him out completely, maybe he wouldn't want my help anymore, but then he would still need to give me those vinyls.

"What did I do to God to have children like you?" my father said, shaking his head, but still smiling.

"Speaking of your many strange children, did you get any news from Anna?" I asked my dad.

"She called at work this morning. Said she's never been happier, college is great, she has lots of friends, plausible boyfriend on the way, good grades, and she's working at a new place on Monday," my father trailed as he poured rice in the boiling water.

"Meaning her life sucks, her college's boring, she's got no friends, she's stalking a guy, failing in every class and she got fired from her job?" I asked sheepishly.

If there was one thing I knew about my older sister, it was that she made up this little perfect world for herself when things weren't working out for her. She hated school, couldn't get along with a lot of girl because she's a natural bitch, didn't do boyfriends but casual dating which basically meant sleeping around and she was always late to work, that was probably a family thing though, so she got fired pretty often.

"Probably," my father snorted.

I turned my head to the left and saw Blake leaning on the arch again. Damn. I had almost forgotten about him. He was being strangely quiet. I didn't like that. I was scared about the comeback he'd make afterwards.

"Dude, just take a seat," I told him and pushed one of the stool with my leg. He was making me nervous by just standing up like that and staring at us.

"So Blake, tell me about yourself? Should I really worry about you stalking my daughter?" my father asked as he stirred the rice.

"Your daughter has a colorful imagination," Blake said laughing as he leaned on the counter to sit on the stool and took a shrimp.

My father laughed at that too.

"Alright, stop making fun of me," I told them and slapped Blake's hand holding the shrimp which feel on the ground, red sauce and all.

Blake glared at me.

Ha ha!

"I'm not picking it up," he informed me.

"Well, me neither, so I think we're at an impasse here."

We both stared at each other, for longer than necessary, glaring, but then Blake sighed, bent and picked up the shrimp.

Man, I was on fire! That was twice now that I was winning the glaring contest with him today.

"You aren't from around here, are you?" my father suddenly asked, his eyes narrowing like he was concentrating on something really important.

"No. I was born in New York, lived in Europe for a while. Prague. Paris. My parents have a studio in London so we stayed there most of the time, but we moved here when I was eleven after... well anyway, I have family living in London so I still go there often," Blake explained.

Wow. I didn't know that. I mean, I remembered he had moved here when I was in fifth grade, but I didn't remember him mentioning all that traveling. Actually, the only thing I remembered was that he was a quiet kid, and he had ignored me when I had talked to him to be nice. Let's just say I hadn't like that.

"I knew I heard your sort of British accent," my father said smugly.

Hmm, that was true. Blake did sort of have a British accent. It just went with his voice. I'd honestly never heard a voice as deep as his. Sure, I hated the guy but his voice was seriously hot.

"Yeah well, I lost it over the years, most of it I think. I mean, at first I didn't have it, but then when you live for a while in one place you just get their accent, it's inevitable. Seriously after my trips to Paris I always have the stinking French accent when I speak in English. I need at least a week to lose it." Blake explained as he threw the shrimp in the garbage and took another one, carefully, and away from me.

"What do your parents do?" dad asked.

"Well, my dad's a musician, a pianist actually, but he's mostly a painter, and my mom's a writer. We're pretty artsy in my family," Blake trailed off.

I knew Blake's parents were loaded, but I hadn't thought they would be artists. I mean with a son like theirs they were probably disappointed. Wouldn't they want to have an artist too instead of a jerkalish jock?

"What's your father's name," dad asked.

"Christopher Eaton."

"I think I've seen one of his paintings somewhere," my father trailed off.

"The new exhibition at the gallery downtown is exposing a bunch of his paintings so maybe that's where you saw it."

"No, no, more like on a business trip. You said you were from New York?"

"Yes. We do have a gallery there," Blake told him.

"That's it!" dad replied, slapping his hand on the counter. "Yeah, that's where I saw it."

Christopher Eaton. I would have to google that.

I wondered who his mother was? I mean not all writers were famous. And I couldn't think about any Eaton writers. Oh well.

"Your father isn't disappointed that you're not following in his footsteps instead of playing football?" my father suddenly asked him.

"Actually no. My dad's a pretty reasonable guy. On the other hand, I know my mom would like that."

"That's the kids' burden. Will they follow the trail their parents left for them..." my father trailed off, as he started to take out plates.

I knew what he was thinking about just then. Would all his children follow in his footsteps and be ditched like him?

Would I end up like my mom?

That was something that frightened me. When I would hit forty, would that mean I would go all crazy like her and abandoned everyone around me, trying to change everything? People always said I was so much like her. Was I really like her? I wanted to say no, because right now, I could never do what she did to us. I could never abandon my family and lie to them, I could never do that. But would things change?

"Well, dinner's ready!" dad suddenly said as he set the fish out of the oven.

"Are we setting the table?" I asked him, while I got up to help him.

"No need. The counter will do, right son?" my father asked Blake, who smiled and nod in response.

Alright. I was kind of confused now. I mean I was used to Blake the jerk. I expected him to stay the same jerk, or if he didn't, I thought I could see him struggling to not be a jerk, but right now, it seemed like this was the normal him, and the jerk was the forced one.

I mean, he just had a whole conversation with my dad and he hadn't made one, not one, pervy comment. It simply wasn't normal.

I handed a plate to Blake and stood by my father while he split the big salmon that smelled deliciously nice as Blake stood by me.

This freaked me out even more because it felt natural. Something was definitely wrong here.

"Alright, three equal parts, and no Lexi you don't get to have a bigger one just because you're too thin," my father cut before I could say one word.

Damn it! I really liked fish.

Blake was laughing again. "She eats a lot, doesn't she?"

"You should see my grocery bill. With her and her brother it's a miracle we aren't bankrupted by now."

I rolled my eyes at both of them and then, after my father had put my fish in my plate, I took some rice and went to sit on my stool again.

Blake followed a few seconds later and then my father sat too, we all ate. There was something extremely disturbing about this situation. Anybody would have guessed there would be awkward moments but Blake seemed to fit in, just like he had always been a part of our routine. That got me frowning over my plate.

When I was down to my last vegetable in my rice I heard the front door open.

"Man! I missed fish night," Ty cried in the hall way.

We were all laughing when he walked through the arch, but he stopped for a second.

"I see your little friend still hasn't left," Ty said with an evil grin.

"Yeah and you're in big trouble about that young man," I informed him and thought about his PS3 well hidden in my closet.

"What are you going to do about it? It's not like you can shave my head in my sleep anymore," Ty answered and opened the fridge.

We would see about that.

"Weren't you out eating just five minutes ago?" my father asked in disbelief.

"You know me dad," Tyler answered and sat at the counter with us, a bowl of macaroni salad in front of him. "So, how did she react when she saw you barge in?" Ty asked Blake.

"She screamed like a little girl. Seriously I'm impress I'm not deaf," he answered laughing.

"Hey! First, you had no right to pop in my room unannounced like that, and second, I am a girl."

The three men laughed at my answer.

"I hate being in minority," I mumbled, pouting.

"Was she singing when you walked in?" Tyler pressed, his eyes twinkling evilly.

"Like a drunken girl in a karaoke club."

They all laughed louder.

"Laugh all you want! I'll be the one laughing when I'll beat you all up with my mad ninja skills!"

That got them laughing even more, and somehow, this made me feel the way it was when my family was still whole.

If anyone had told me two weeks ago that I would be sitting at the dinner table with my dad and brother and Blake, and I would actually enjoy it, I would have called the cuckoo's house on them, but again, if anyone had told me one year ago that my mother would leave us, I wouldn't have believed them either so I guess life really was unpredictable.