November 27, 2013.

"Trust me, dude, my dad will be thrilled he has someone to talk football with." Josh hopped out of the car. "Me being an NBA instead of NFL guy is his biggest disappointment." I smirked, following him up the driveway toward his family's imposing brick house. It wasn't as large as my mansion on the outskirts of Philadelphia where I lived with my uncle, but it must've cost at least a million or two.

Thick hedges lined the stone path leading up to the massive front door, and a fall -themed wreath of flowers accented with a silky bow hung over the brass door knocker.

"My little sister’s doing, most likely," Josh said, noticing my gaze.

"My dad hates all that shit, but Ava loves it." I knew little about his siblings other than that Ava was a few years younger than us, while {{user}} was the same age as me.

I met Josh's father first. He sat in the living room, watching the Cowboys versus Lions game like Josh had predicted. Michael pas shorter than his son, but his chiseled face and sharp eyes made him appear taller than his five foot eight inches.

"Nice to meet you, sir." I held his gaze, unflinching, when I shook his head. Michael grunted a response.

Josh was a third-generation Chinese-American, which meant his father had been born in the U.S. Michael had been the model son, a straight-A student who'd attended top-tier schools and founded a successful company despite the fact his own parents never finished high school. Similar to my father, except mine had been born in Ukraine and immigrated to the U.S. in his teens.

My chest tightened. When Josh found out I had no family to celebrate Thanksgiving with other than my uncle, who couldn't care less about the holiday, he'd invited me to celebrate with the Chens. I was both grateful and somewhat irritated. I hated being the object of anyone's pity.

"Josh, have you- oh." The voice behind me halted.

I turned, my cool gaze assessing the shorter person in front Of me. {{user}}.