the babysitter ; muke

one

"Mom, I'm not a fucking child, I don't need a fucking babysitter. Must I remind you once a fucking gain today I'm 16 years old?!" Michael exclaimed, hands shooting up in the air, loving the certain swear word at that very moment.

"Sit down and stop swearing! Every time you're left alone, you're never home when we get back. Therefore, you need a babysitter to keep you in the house. And he's here, so we'll see you when we get back. Behave," Michael's mother explained, as if Michael hadn't already heard it all a million times before. She had a headache from the boy, constantly causing raucous and catastrophes everywhere he went.

She didn't know where she went wrong in raising the boy. She had never spoiled him too much, so he shouldn't be snobby. She'd always have him help her clean when he was little, and he loved it, so she didn't know why you could never see the floor in his room anymore. His father and her had never fought, only small arguments that never resulted in him sleeping on the couch or anything ridiculously extra like that. And whenever they had small arguments, they were never in front of Michael, anyway. It isn't like he's been through a lot, ever, or had a bad childhood.

Michael's mother swung the front door open, revealing a nearly 7 foot tall man who looked more mature than his age. He wore a black button down dress shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. The top three buttons on his dress shirt were undone, as if he had been in a rush to get ready, and his hair was partially standing up and partially straight against his forehead.

"Sorry it took me so long ma'am, I woke up late. It won't happen again," Luke explained.

Michael's mother smiled, stepping back and widening the space between the door and the frame, welcoming Luke into their home.

Luke warmly smiled back, lazily piecing together as a half smile, the one you'd see on most jerk teenage guys.

When Michael saw Luke, he internally groaned. Not only did his mother have to hire a babysitter that she hardly had a clue as to who the person was, he had to be some old, hairy man. Why couldn't the babysitter at least be some hot, young guy with a clean shaven face?

"Okay Luke, I'm going to warn you now ; Michael is quite the handful. You'll have to keep a super close eye on this one. If you turn your head for three seconds, he'll be up and out the door. We're going to be paying extra, just because it's going to be needed. I hope you two can get along, become friends, since you all are both young and probably have something in common. We'll be back around 10 or so, if that's fine with you, Luke?" Michael's mother explained to Luke, Luke taking in every detail and trying to process it.

He was speaking before he knew it, "I'm sure he'll be no problem, ma'am! I can handle him, and I won't take my eyes off of him for a minute. No need to worry, 10 sounds good also."

That worked with Michael's mother like a charm. With one last comforting smile, her and Michael's father were out the door and in the car in no time at all.

Luke's attention focused on the boy that was lying back on the couch, the cushions sinking in. He had the most annoyed look on his face, like he wanted to be anywhere, even up a dog's ass, rather than here. This should be fun, Luke thought.