My Fault - Adrienette FF

Adrien

"Marinette," she replied contemptuously. "My name's Marinette." It was funny how she scowled at me. My new stepsister seemed offended I didn't give a shit what her and her mother's names were, but I had to admit that at least I remembered her mother's. How couldn't I?

The last three weeks, she'd spent more time in my house than I had. Sabine Cheng was now a part of my life, and to make matters worse, she'd brought company.

"Isn't that a French name and aren't you from New York?" I asked, knowing it would bother her. "No offense, obviously," I added when I saw her blue-colored eyes open with surprise.

"It doesn't matter where you're from to have a certain name, and by the way I was born here just raised in New York," she answered a second later. I watched her look at me and then at , Arlo my dog, and I couldn't help laughing.

"Probably your limited vocabulary doesn't include the word universal." Arlo kept growling and baring his teeth. It wasn't his fault; we'd trained him not to trust strangers. With one word from me, he'd turn back into the sweet dog he always was...but it was too fun seeing the look of fear on my new stepsister's face.

"Don't worry about my vocabulary, it's pretty extensive," I replied, closing the fridge and turning to face her, for real this time.

"There's one word I know that my dog loves. Starts with an A, then two Ts, then A-C-K." She looked scared, and I couldn't help but laugh. She was thin and was probably close to five six, but I wasn't sure—well put together, I had to admit. But her face was so girlish it was impossible to have any lustful thoughts about her. Unless I'd heard wrong, she hadn't even finished high school, but you could guess that after one glance at her shorts, her T-shirt, and her black Converse. All she needed was to pull her hair back in a ponytail to look like the typical teenager waiting impatiently for someone to open the doors of some big box store so she could buy the latest TikTok trends all the fifteen-year-olds were freaking out about.

Still, I couldn't take my eyes off her hair; its color was strange, somewhere between black and blue. "Very funny," she said sarcastically but obviously terrified.

"Get him out of here. He looks ready to kill me." She took a step back. As she did, Arlo took a step forward. Good boy, I thought. Maybe she could use a scare, a special reception to let her know whom this house really belonged to and how unwelcome she was.

"Arlo, forward," I ordered him sternly. Marinette looked back and forth from him to me and stepped farther back until she hit the wall. Arlo walked slowly toward her, growling and showing his teeth. He was scary, but I knew he wouldn't do anything. Not unless I ordered him to.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "This isn't funny."

But it was.

"My dog usually gets along great with everyone. It's weird that he's on the verge of attacking you," I remarked, amused as she tried to control her fear.

"Are you going to do anything?" she whined. Do anything? How about I tell you to go back where you came from?

"You've been here, what? Five minutes? And you're already bossing people around?" I said, walking over to the tap and pouring a glass of water.

"Maybe I should leave you here for a while to get to know the place on your own."

"Were you dropped on your head often as a child? Get that dog away from me!" I turned, a little surprised at her audacity. Had she just insulted me? I think even my dog got it because he walked closer to her. She hardly had space to move. Then, before I could stop her, Marinette turned in fright and grabbed the first thing in reach on the counter, a frying pan. Before she could hit Arlo, I grabbed his collar with one hand and stopped her with the other.