My Valentine

Two

Nightingale Phillips

As I walked through the door of my haven, or as my parents liked to call it "The Cave", I immediately dropped my bag on the carpeted floor and flipped on to my bed ensuring my purple comforter still concisely covered every inch of the mattress.

I was what you'd probably call a neat freak. Nothing was ever out of place when it came to my room.

My white bookshelf which stood adjacent to my off-white bedroom door contained novels of every genre and were in alphabetical order on the five shelves.

My carpet was furry and also purple. I had a desk and chair facing the wall opposite to my bed. My wallpaper was a blend of purple, black and white polka dots and I had made some paper butterflies (coloured in white and purple and had been pasted above my bed).

Yeah, I was a purple freak as well. My walk in closet had the same colour coordination too.

Unfortunately, I shared a bathroom with my older sister Rhinestone who despised purple. That was probably the only partially intimate thing I knew about her, aside from the fact that she was my sister.

Rhinestone was eighteen and turning nineteen in a month.

I was younger than her by a year. It's not that we hated each other or anything, we just weren't close. If I wanted her opinion on a dress I was wearing, she'd happily give it, but we didn't paint each other's nails and disclose our deepest, darkest secrets to one another.

We were both fine with that. Tammy was more of a sister to me than she ever was anyway.

I began my homework early because I knew I'd be next door babysitting Brooklyn for Mr. Valentine into the late hours. I know, it may have seemed weird that I didn't mention Mr. Valentine was my neighbour, but there really was nothing to tell.

He'd moved into the neighbourhood two years ago with his wife, but really didn't mix with the folks around here. When we'd hear him and Mrs. Valentine screaming at each other, we didn't take it upon ourselves to ask if they were alright, because the answer would always be the same: "We're just fine."

Obviously, they weren't because they were now separated. Brooklyn came into his life as a surprise for sure.

I had heard gossip that it was his brother, along with Brooklyn's mom who had died in a car accident. Anyway, I supposed he heard that I was in the babysitting business because the first time he asked my parents if I could babysit for him, they were taken aback. We had never expected him to ask anyone for help, but he did.

Everything began to fall into place then; he would occasionally have small conversations with my dad as they both mowed their lawns and so on.

He was also cool around me for the first three months when I took care of Brooklyn, then he just sorta...withdrew from conversations with me.

Whenever we saw each other out of school, I'd greet him and he'd nod briskly. If he wanted me to care for Brooklyn for a few hours, he'd ask. That was basically it. On the other hand, within those three months, we'd talk about random things such as the weather and probably the latest movies as I watered my mother's roses.

In those months, I realised he wasn't the stick-up-his-ass, but sexy teacher everyone thought he was. Sure, he was still hot but he knew how to let loose in an adult kinda way...

He proved my theory wrong though. He began to treat me like the enemy a few weeks later. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt. He was still good friends with my parents, but sometimes I was so sure I could feel him glaring at me when I would put Brooklyn down and exited his house.