Red Hair, Black Soul (Red & Black #1)

17 | Sorrygiving

Saturday officially joins the list of days ending with y that I hate.

The week passed way too fast and before I know it, the clattering of dishes downstairs wakes me. I grope blindly for the extra pillow I keep stuffed in my bed and use it to cover my head in a weak attempt to block out the noise. The reality comes in slow motion and the brutal truth takes a moment to sink in. When it does, I groan and roll around in bed. 

Saturday. The day of the dinner The day Jed's going to invade the only place he hasn't put his hands on yet - my home. 

Groaning out my irritation, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. After all the rolling, my hair is mercilessly tangled, wrapping around my face and spilling all over the place. I don't bother to wipe it away, though. There's really nothing I'm eager on doing right now. 

Deciding it's best to go unnoticed, I stay in bed. Maybe Mum will forget about me. Maybe Jed will call Everett and cancel. My brother gave him his number when they talked on Monday. Hell, it seems like they became best buddies. Of course, I bet Jed sticks around just to get a ride in Everett's car. Once he gets to sit his ass in the passenger - or even the driver's - seat, he's going to leave me alone. 

Or at least that's what I'm hoping for. 

Just when I think I got lucky and my Mum really forgot I still live here, I hear my name being called from the downstairs. I let out a long sigh and ignore it. Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. When I realize where they're headed, I quickly flip over and draw the comforter over my head. A second later, my door opens and I freeze.

"Mum needs you." Everett says. 

I don't react. 

"I know you're awake." His voice is devoid of any emotion. "I heard you groaning."

What in the hell?

I throw the covers off of me and turn to face him. 

"You didn't hear anything."

Everett shrugs. "The walls are thin." He starts backing away. "You've got two minutes to get downstairs."

"Or what?"

He looks at me. "You'll see."

And with that, he leaves, leaving the door open. I stick out my tongue and let my head fall back down onto the pillow. The second it does, something soft hits me in the face, covering my eyes. I flinch and snatch it away, fisting the material in my hand. When I realize what my brother threw at me, I yelp and drop it as if it caught fire. 

These are boxers. Pink boxers. 

The force of my kick sends them flying across the room and landing in the furthest corner. I narrow my eyes in the direction they went and clench my jaw. I never wish anyone to live with a brother. Especially not with a one wearing pink boxers.

I don't even want to know if they're clean or not.

Deciding I don't need - or want - any other articles of his underwear introducing themselves to my face, I get up begrudgingly. I don't bother to dress, just  shrug on a loose cardigan and slide my feet into fluffy socks. On my way downstairs, I twist my hair into a messy knot on top of my head, not giving two shits about how I look.

When I step into the kitchen, all I can see is the mess. Food is everywhere, in different states of preparation and rawness. Mum is waltzing amidst all of it, graceful and bright like always. When she turns and spots me standing in the doorway, her mouth forms an "o".

"Oh, you're up." She says, taking in my outfit. "I called for you a few times"

"I was asleep." I say curtly. I leave out the information about the boxers.