Dinner was a tense affair. Enzo and I were both sitting at the table, but my mom and dad weren't talking. They were just eating their food, pretending like nothing was wrong. It was awkward. Nobody said a word. There was no conversation. No laughter. Just silence. I glanced at Enzo, and he gave me a questioning look. I shrugged. I had no idea what was going on. And nobody seemed inclined to explain. 

I cleared my throat and put my fork down. "I got an invite to Bree's party on Friday." I began, looking between my parents. "Can I go?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Dad's eyebrows shot up and he looked at my mom. Her expression was unreadable, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. She didn't say anything. She just stared at her plate. Dad looked back at me and sighed. "No," he said.

"What? Why not?" I asked, frowning. "You always tell me to go out more and socialize and that's what I'm trying to do. I don't understand. This is what you want."

Dad ran a hand through his hair. "It's complicated."

"Complicated, how?" I demanded. "If I'm old enough to hang out with Enzo, I'm old enough to go to a party." I looked at him expectantly, waiting for his reply. He didn't say anything. He just shook his head. "Come on, Dad, please," I pleaded. "I never get invited to parties. This is the first time I've been asked to go, and it's not fair." I pouted, knowing he couldn't resist the puppy dog eyes. But it was useless. He didn't respond. He was lost in thought. I huffed. "Fine," I snapped. "If you're not going to explain, I'm going upstairs." I pushed back my chair and stormed out of the room.

I was halfway up the stairs when my mom finally spoke. "Peyton, wait," she called.

I stopped and looked at her. She was standing at the foot of the staircase, her expression solemn. "It's not that we don't trust you," she began. "It's just..." Her voice trailed off. She looked conflicted. "There's a lot going on right now, and it's best if you stay home for the time being." She gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it's only temporary."

I stared at her for a moment. Then, I nodded and continued climbing the stairs. I didn't believe a word she said. They were keeping something from me, and I was determined to find out what it was.

As soon as I reached the top, I heard my parents start talking. Their voices were hushed, and I couldn't make out what they were saying. So, instead, I decided to go to my room.

I flopped down on my bed and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through my messages, but there was nothing interesting. Ruby had sent me a few pictures from the cheerleader's practice. There were a bunch of girls in tight shorts and crop tops doing cartwheels and jumping around. One girl was doing the splits. It was pretty impressive.

I scrolled through the rest of my messages, but there was nothing else worth reading. So, I switched to social media. That was where the fun stuff was. I logged into my favorite app and started scrolling through the posts. There were a few memes, a lot of cat videos, and some stupid political rants. But the best part was the photos. Everyone was posting pictures of themselves and their friends. It was like a virtual scrapbook. I could see who everyone was hanging out with and what they were doing. And it was the perfect way to spy on people. You could learn a lot about someone from their online presence. And, if you knew what to look for, you could figure out a lot more. Like who was lying about where they were going or what they were doing. Or who was cheating on their significant other. It was great. And it was also very useful for gathering information. After all, if you can't trust your friends, who can you trust?

I didn't know how long I'd been staring at my phone when a knock on the door startled me. I sat up and put the device aside. "Come in," I called. The door opened, and Enzo stepped inside. He closed the door behind him. "Hey," I said with a frown. "What's up?" 

He stared at me, and then at the bed. It was obvious that he wanted to sit down, but he was hesitating.

I rolled my eyes. "Just sit," I ordered. "It's not like I'm going to bite." He did as he was told, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. I sighed. "I know we don't get along, but can we at least agree on one thing? This whole silent treatment thing is ridiculous. It's not like you can't speak, you're just choosing not to." I crossed my arms and stared at him. "So, why not talk?"

He didn't say anything. Instead, he looked down at his hands. His long fingers were intertwined. They were pale, and his knuckles were slightly bruised. Probably from soccer.

 "Come on, at least tell me why you won't speak. Is it because you're scared or embarrassed or what? Are you just shy?" I shook my head. "Because, if you are, I'm telling you right now, you've got nothing to be embarrassed about. Trust me, I've seen plenty of people talk. You're not the weirdest person I've met." I paused, thinking. "Well, actually, that's not true. I guess you are the weirdest person I've ever met. But that's not a bad thing."

He looked up, and our eyes locked. His expression was unreadable. There was no trace of emotion on his face. It was frustrating. I didn't know how to read him. I didn't know how to figure him out. He was like a mystery. And I didn't like mysteries. 

I sighed. "Whatever. I don't care if you ever talk to me or not. I guess I'm kind of glad I got someone to talk to. At least I can have a conversation with you, even if it's one-sided and it annoys the hell out of me." I paused and frowned. "Actually, maybe not. Maybe that's why you won't talk. Because I keep talking and you have nothing to say. I'm sorry. I'll stop now. Just ignore me. You're probably sick of hearing my voice. I wouldn't blame you. I'm sick of hearing it too."

I stopped talking. And, for a moment, the only sound was our breathing. The silence was deafening. I waited for him to speak, but he didn't. He just stared at me. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Ugh!" I cried. "Why are you so weird? What is your problem? Can't you at least give me a sign that you're listening? I mean, come on! A nod. A shake of the head. Something!" I was getting exasperated. My hands flew to my hair, and I tugged at the strands. "Are you a mime? Do you want to pretend you're trapped in a box? Is that it? Are you trying to teach me a lesson about talking too much?" I groaned. "This is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. And annoying. And, frankly, it's not funny. You know that, right? This is not a joke. I'm serious. I'm trying to have a conversation here. An actual, two-sided, human interaction. Do you get that? Because, if not, you can just leave." I waved my hand at the door. "Go. Get out. Go be weird somewhere else. Leave me alone." I glared at him. He didn't move. "Well, aren't you going to go?" I snapped. He didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on me. "Oh, for fuck's sake." I threw my hands in the air and stood up. "You're unbelievable," I muttered as I stomped past him.

He didn't try to stop me. He just watched as I walked out of the room. And that's when I noticed it. There was a hint of a smile on his lips. It was the slightest upturn of the corners of his mouth, but it was enough. Enough to tell me that he'd been listening. And that he found the whole situation amusing.

I stopped dead in my tracks. "You asshole," I seethed. "You were listening this whole time, weren't you? You were just messing with me." I turned around and stormed back to the bed. "You're a dick, you know that? A real fucking dick." I plopped down onto the mattress, fuming. "I can't believe you." I shook my head, muttering under my breath. "You're lucky I didn't hit you. Because, if I did, you would have been out cold. And, trust me, that wouldn't have been a pretty sight." I paused and looked up at him.

Just when I was about to open my mouth to say something else, he reached over and tapped me on my nose before letting out a sigh. His expression was a mix of amusement and exasperation. It was a look that seemed to say, "You talk too much."

Then, he got up and left the room, leaving me sitting there, dumbfounded.