Her Dad My Daddy ✓

Chapter Fourteen | Manners? Nah.

The disheveled room was just like Karter had pictured. Light grey walls, linoleum floors, and a window that wasn't quite big enough to throw someone out of it.

In Karter's opinion, it looked nice; yet Flynn's comments made it sound like they had just uncovered a rotting corpse in the mattress or something—and no, he didn't appreciate the American Horror Story reference Karter made.

In fact, Flynn steamed the mattresses for two hours the night before and refused to sleep until the bedding was as clean as they could get it. It was easy to say they didn't go to bed until at least three and Karter wanted nothing more than to test out the new window.

That morning Karter was paying for his stupid comments. If he would have just shut up he wouldn't be waking up to the smell of lemon cleaners and the lovely sound of vacuuming.

Really, right now? He thought, trying to go back to sleep—even if he knew it was hopeless.

He should have taken Ember up on her offer to stay in her dorm for the night when they were messaging back and forth about their roommates.

"Fuck off. It's six in the fucking morning you four-eyed Leffel!"

Karter wasn't really sure why he called his cousin a four-eye spoon but he didn't overthink it. One of the only words he remembered while growing up in an Amish state.

Several of his neighbors he'd cook with—mainly as a punishment for doing something irresponsible. He learned a few words from the nice Amish ladies and their kids. Leffel (left-lee) just happened to be the only one that stuck.

"Shh, you might wake the neighbors. Now that you're up though, get dressed or you'll be late for your class." Flynn's voice was calm as he spoke.

He shoved the small vacuum into his side of the closet and fixed his appearance. Flynn was dressed smartly, unable to notice how broke he really was.

His blue sweater and ironed pants complemented his sparkling green eyes. Even with his glasses on Flynn's eyes remained just as bright and determined.

"Oh, and it's not six. It's nine."

With that information, Flynn grabbed his bag and walked out of the dorm. He locked the door behind him leaving Karter alone in a sudden state of panic.

"Fuck!" Karter yelled forgetting he had neighbors and the walls were always thinner than they appeared.

Karter jumped out of bed not bothering to make it and looked through his bag for something clean. To his luck, everything was more wrinkled than his grandmother's ass.

So like the poised and professional man he was, he threw on the mess of clothes that first came in sight. Black jeans, a black hoodie, and black boots all of which looked like he had thrown them under his bed for a month before throwing them on.

Before leaving Karter played a game of: Where did he put the keys he had no more than a minute ago. It was not as fun as it might have sounded.

Once he found them he was five minutes late as he walked out of the dorm and then ran in the wrong direction for two whole minutes. Karter remembered all the times he cursed himself for skipping gym class.

Fortunately, when he made it to the correct building and class it hadn't started that long ago. Despite all the things he did to get attention set on him he also hated it when he was late to something and all eyes turned to him.

This year Karter was determined not to fuck it up—he wanted to stop being himself for a moment and actually focus on his schooling. Hell, maybe this year he would get a job and not have to steal—borrow things so much.