Sweeney Sweets

Chapter 2

My brother told me Miami was warm almost all of the time.

I didn't really believe him. Honestly I thought he just said that because anything over 70 degrees in London was going to be considered warm, but no, that wasn't the case at all.

Instead of a measly seventy three degrees, it was eighty fucking eight degrees outside. Literally eighty eight and I think my skin and nose and mostly my entire body was melting beneath my loose gray sweats and black singlet that I thanked the man above I was wearing beneath the jacket i'd taken out.

I felt like an idiot now, a massive one and all I wanted to do was go and fish out a pair of shorts and slip them over my legs and lay outside on the grass whilst a sprinkler shot out water on me.

I really hoped Ambrose had a pool in his backyard or else i'd possibly end up in a bath full of cold water accompanied by some ice cubes too.

I had to drag myself to the exit of the airport, my bags being dragged behind me too and honestly I wondered if i'd ever be able to get used to this weather after being so used to London's colder climates.

Maybe I was being dramatic but dammit I wasn't okay right now, not by a long shot.

I really hoped my brother was here, but when I got outside I saw that it was actually not my brother who was waiting for me.

Instead it was the driver he'd told me about on the phone earlier and I had no idea if he was actually serious about this guy, but now I do see that he was very serious.

I blinked at the guy on his phone, probably in his later twenties, tall and burly, blonde hair that looked like it was just naturally that light and I couldn't quite see his eyes or most of his face yet since he was doing something on his phone.

My brother was rich, I knew that because he'd been the person to pay for my college education, that little piece of information I had only found out in my last year.

He was a COO of a reputable company as my uncle had once told me, I didn't ask him to elaborate on it too much though, I took that little bit and left it at that, thanked my older brother who said it was his job to help me, even though I knew it was not and he wouldn't listen to me if I told him that.

I guess my parents left that on him from the little letter they'd left behind with their will after the car accident that resulted in their deaths.

But still, I didn't want my brother to feel obligated to me, not at all, I wanted to be a better sister, to just not rely on my brother but here I was at twenty years old, moving in with him.

I'd asked Ambrose if I could stay with him roughly five days ago and yet he'd said yes almost immediately, he even so much as offered to pay for the plane ticket and everything which I assured him was something i'd take care of myself since I knew he'd probably tell me to never lift a finger or leg or anything when I got to his house.

Sometimes I feel like Ambrose felt bad for staying back in Miami and not coming to London with me, living a life I hadn't even been close to living but I wasn't bitter, if anything I was happy for him, happy that at least one of us got a better life, not that mine wasn't good, but it wasn't the best and thats just a simple known fact.

I was too young to move in with him and his friends family, plus I hadn't known them either, I was only an eleven year old girl and couldn't make a decision for myself, so I moved in with my uncle who wasn't so bad, just quiet and most of the time was too busy with his security job to actually be a father figure like his brother, like my dad had been, but he paid the bills and got the food so he was doing better than most.

When I turned nineteen I moved in with Spencer and visited Uncle Tucker every other Sunday which I knew he was grateful for, happy that I hadn't forgot about him but of course I wouldn't, he wasn't a bad man, just closed off and not the best at communication but he was still a decent human being.

Hell Uncle Tucker was ecstatic, or well as ecstatic as he could get when he found out i'd be moving in with Ambrose, he said it'd be good for the Sweeney's to be reunited and that had made me smile.

He was always referred to us as the bigger Sweeney and I the smaller Sweeney. I liked it, it was similar to how my brother's second name was Jesse and mine was Dylan because our parents wanted us to have unisex middle names after an incident of actually thinking Ambrose was gonna be a girl till he was out the womb and was not a girl.

Jesse was supposed to be his first name but was made his second after the discovery, but they kept the tradition evidently even after they known i'd be a girl, which is why my name was Calliope Dylan Sweeney and his, Ambrose Jesse Sweeney.

"Hello." I said as I stopped in front of the blonde haired, green eyed guy with freckles that made him look a lot younger than how old he probably was.

He looked away from his phone and to me with a raise of an eyebrow, a cut running through it, just a slight cut but it looked kinda cool.

"Calliope?"

I nodded with a grin and his blonde brows pinched together. "You're a lot tinier than your brother." He admitted, a slight accent I couldn't really decipher on was in his words and I shrugged.

"I got my moms height."

It was true, my mother was shorter compared to my dad who had been nearing a good height of 6 foot 2, the last time I saw Ambrose around 8 months ago he'd been around the height of my father and uncle which was not surprising.

"Poor you."

I rose a brow and he smiled, I couldn't help but smile back at the guy. I just knew we'd be great friends if I actually used him to get me around Miami, which I probably wouldn't when I learnt where to go when needed be.

Having a driver was really unnecessary in my opinion, especially for someone who would stay home a lot of the time like me.

"Whats your name?" I asked him as I got in the car, intentionally tugging his hand away from the handle because he didn't have to put up princess treatment on me.

"Felix."

"Cool, like Fix it Felix from Wreck it Ralph."

I swear I saw the side of his eye twitch when he got in the car on the drivers side.

"Whats your last name Felix?"

"Petrov."

"Are you Russian?"

He nodded and I oh'd in realization, his accent wasn't as prominent, probably from all the years he'd spent living in Miami.

"Can I call you Fix it Felix?"

"No."

Damnit.