The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

It Feels Better Than It Looks

5
It Feels Better Than It Looks

Later that evening when I get home, my mom is frantic. I'm not surprised, it's my mom. She's freaking out about me not calling her when in reality, I don't even have a cell phone.

"Well, what happened?" She cries, "Did you get lost?" Weirdly, she's dressed down in sweatpants that I'm sure are not hers, and someone else's t-shirt. It's so ... normal, and definitely unlike her. For a second, I have to make sure that it's actually my mom I'm talking to and not some clone.

"No," I mutter.

She crosses her arms over her chest, pulls a bar stool out from underneath the kitchen island, and pointedly takes a seat. Great, she wants an explanation. "Okay, so what happened? It doesn't take five hours to get curtains, Anastasia."

"Well, then I went to get some food." It's true, sort of. After leaving Target, I took my time familiarizing myself with the neighborhood.

"For five hours?"

"Mom, are you serious?" I ask, staring at her. When she doesn't respond, I push a frustrated hand through my hair. "I met a guy, and before you ask, no. We didn't do anything. We just hung out for a few, alright?"

Eyes grow twice their normal size and she slides off her stool to stand in front of me. "A guy?"

"Yes, mom. So what?"

"So what?" She looks like she's ready to go off on me, and I'm pretty sure that she is, but her phone rings before she gets the chance to. A glance at the caller ID is all it takes and she shakes her head. "It's the wedding planner, I have to take this."

"Lucky me."

Her eyes narrow, "I'm not finished with you, young lady."

Well, that went better then I anticipated. I hurry around her and upstairs to my bedroom, resisting the urge to slam the door shut after I slip inside. I toss my bags aside and turn my TV on before kicking off my shoes. Incredibly enough, before I even get the chance to sit down, my door comes swinging open.

"Mom, really? I said it was n--," I stop when I turn and see Luke instead. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

Quietly, he closes the door, leans back against it, and pushes his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He smirks and then bites the corner of his lip, "Honestly Annie, I don't know what's funnier."

Narrowing my eyes, I say, "Excuse me?"

"The fact that you don't have a phone or, the fact that in the literal five minutes that you've lived in this city you have already met a guy."

And well, that's all it takes. I'm annoyed. "Maybe, you should learn to mind your own business," I snap, angrily.

"Calm it, little one," he laughs. Bending down, he grasps my Target bag and tips it over; the contents falling out onto the floor. Luke spreads them out with his sneakered foot, and I watch as he bends down and picks up a packaged tube of lipgloss.

"Wet n Wild?" He mumbles, reading the name slowly to himself before cocking an eyebrow. "Never took for you that type, Annie, really I didn't."

I don't have to defend myself, but still, I cross my arms over my chest and say, "It's just a makeup brand, you asshole." Walking over to him, I snatch it out of his hand and crouch; picking up my things. "Just leave, please."

He pouts, mockingly.

"Awe, but I just got here, Anniekins. Ooh, wait," a hand reaches down and he grabs my bag of chips, "I'll take these."