The trip from London to California left Mysha Colton a little jetlag, but her excitement counters it excellently, leaving the five-year-old halfway between jumping in her seat and basking underneath the sun as the scenery passed by in a green blur.
"How long until we get to Beacon Hill?" Mysha props herself between her parents: Rhys and Sebastian.
"Not long now," Rhys replies, "about another twenty minutes to go. You tired sweetheart?"
She shakes her head, "I'm pretty hungry."
Sebastian takes a quick glance over his shoulder at his little girl; those eyes that could never decide between maya-blue and golden-hazel under certain lighting, eyes that are twinkling with mischief as she taps her fingers against the headrest, jamming out to a song in her head. "Don't worry. We'd be there soon. We're having lunch with your Mum's friend and their family."
Rhys hums, "God it's been years since I last saw Claudia." She turns to her daughter, "Do you know she has a son your age, perhaps the two of you could be friends?"
Mysha tilts her head, "What's his name?"
Sebastian chuckles, "Well, his Dad named him after Claudia's Dad who was Polish."
"действительно?" Mysha smiles. (Really?)
"Polish sweetheart, not Russian." Her daughter gives her a cheeky grin; Rhys lightheartedly pinches her nose. Mysha swipes her away. "Cheeky little rascal. Anyway, he goes by the family nickname, Stiles."
"Why?" Mysha asks, "Why does he need a nickname?"
Sebastian scoffs. "Poor kid can't pronounce his actual name."
"Sebastian." Rhys chastises, slapping his arm.
"I bet I can pronounce it." The maya-hazel eyed girl said confidently.
"Going to learn Polish too are you?" The sepia-haired man teases.
"Sí papa, mi piace l'apprendimento delle lingue." (Yes Papa, I like learning languages.)
The adults smile to themselves at their little girl's cheek, eying one another out of the corner of their eyes, beaming with pride.
Mysha's stomach lets out a loud grumble the moment Sebastian pulls the car up in front of a two-story house. She clutches her stomach and gives them a sheepish smile.
"Sounds like we arrived here just on time." Rhys teases. Mysha pouts at her Mum. Without looking back, she gets out of the car and heads for the house. She knocks four times.
"Impatient little rascal," Sebastian smirks.
Rhys quirk an eyebrow, "I wonder where she got that from?"
Mysha's ears perk up when she hears someone approaching. The door unlocks and swings open. It's a boy, a little taller than her with short brown hair, whiskey-honey eyes and distinctive mole patterns and freckles across his face and neck. He's wearing a gray t-shirt that hangs off his frame with a pair of jeans.
"Hi," she gives him a big, friendly smile, pushing back the bundle of nerves knotting in her stomach. "I'm Mysha Rowena Colton." She offers him a hand, "Are you Stiles?"
He blinks owlishly, surprise and a little confused. "Erm... yes?"
The corners of her lips curl up into a smile that promises trouble and adventure.