Resisting Rosaleen (18+)

4

The feeling that I carried as I walked to my car was similar to that you'd achieve before indulging in a full adrenaline activity. I felt like I was about to go skydiving. I felt like I was a drop away from a big bungee jump. I felt like the pedal of a race car was right beneath my foot. There was excitement and there was bliss. There was sin in its sweetest form: sin infused with a thousand percentage of saccharine, rolled over a thick layer of sugar, and dipped into a tub of caramel.

"Happy again?" Jared commented as he held the car door open for me.

"Nosy again?" I got inside. To my surprise, the radio was on and Lady Gaga was on medium volume.

"Never pegged you as a little monster," I joked as I put my feet up on the space between the driver's seat and passenger seat, whatever that part's called.

He turned it off, "Ha-ha," Jared removed his sunglasses, "it was on random play."

"So you do have Lady Gaga on your playlist?" I joked even more.

"No," he said sternly, "Spotify has this thing where you can—"

"Yes, Jared, I know." I rubbed my ankle against his arm. He didn't even flinch, "It's called joking. Plus, who doesn't love Lady Gaga?"

He sighed and I could tell he was sick of my shit. I'll grow on him though.

The engine started and we were off. Instead of our usual duration, we got stuck in traffic.

"Tell me," I put my feet down and bent forward, "What do you do while I'm at school?"

"Errands," he shrugged, "Now look who's nosy."

"I'm literally your boss." I raised an eyebrow at him.

Jared is handsome and more on the conventional side of good-looking. His hair is light brown, his eyes are pretty but common, and he has a very nice nose. And I've seen a lot of nice noses. But Jared's? If I were a man, I'd want to have his nose. There are a few small scars all over his face, but small and light enough to only be noticed up close. I like them though, they add character to him.

"Your brother is my boss," he corrected.

"Same thing," I said, "Anyway, what's going on?"

"Seems like a stop light was broken so this car hit that van," he pointed as if I were blind or dumb or both.

"Wanna kill time?" I wiggled my brows and laid a hand on his arm.

He grabbed the said hand and put it away. Then, being petty, he reached for a small bottle of sanitizer and rubbed some on his hands. My mouth formed an O, both entertained and offended.

Although it took a while, we finally reached home. The worksheets that Devon assigned were perplexing though the thought of Mr. Camillo motivated me enough to finish everything before dinner. If I am to engage in an affair with a school employee, the least I can do to make the situation less life-fucking is to keep my grades stable. Once Wyatt arrived, the food was served.

"How's school?" he asked. I could tell that his day was tiring. Wyatt Martin usually keeps his tie on during dinner. If he removes it before then, it means work treated him like shit.

"Dropped by the principal's office," I began, "And got a list of clubs I can join. I don't know yet though. You?"

I cut into the chicken breast, cooked the way I like it with Wyatt's favorite sauce.

I spoke again, "You look like doodie."

The man does not allow cursing during meals.

My brother shrugged, "Earned money."