Porter's POV
“So let me get this straight, not only did you spill water on the poor boy, but then you manhandled him, and bolted?” my mom clarified with a grin, barely containing her laughter. She handed me another plate and I placed it in the cupboard before giving her a scowl.
“What was I supposed to do?” I replied. “You know what happens when I stay in one place for too long. He should feel lucky I wasn't holding any hot coffee.”
“Well at least he got a nice pat down from a pretty girl out of it,” she replied with a laugh. I threw her a look and grabbed the cup she shoved my way.
“You know most normal mothers would feel mortified on my behalf,” I told her as I reached up on my tiptoes to place the cup next to the other ones on the top cupboard. I heard her snort behind me and I rolled my eyes.
“Well, that ship has sailed, honey, so I'll just stick to embarrassing you. That normal enough for ya'?” she asked and I turned to give her a resigned look.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked.
“Not really, but I like to give you a false sense of security now and then.”
“Gee thanks, mom, that's really nice of you.” I grabbed a kitchen towel and dried my hands before tossing it at her, she caught it right before it landed on the floor in front of her and did the same, tossing it on the counter once she was done. “I'm gonna grab my stuff and go out to the garage.”
“Did you finish the last painting you were working on?” she asked and followed behind me as I made my way to my room.
“No, not yet. I'm just not feeling it with that one, so I'm gonna continue the one of our old house that I started yesterday,” I replied as I entered my room and gathered as many painting supplies as I could carry, before tucking the half done canvas under my chin. Praying that I didn't drop anything, I made my way to the garage.
“Okay, I'll leave you to it, I'm gonna go watch some porn,” she answered, nonchalantly and I almost stumbled on my own two feet as I made my way to the garage.
“Mom!”
“What? God, don't be such a virgin.” I shook my head as I closed the door leading out to the garage, effectively cutting off anymore of her crude comments. Walking over to the large wood table leaning against the wall on the right side of the garage, I carefully placed my brushes and paints on it. Making sure everything was away from the edge, I grabbed my canvas and placed it on the black easel, carefully moving it until it was facing the garage's sliding door. When I opened it, the sunlight would hit the canvas just perfectly.
Once I had the garage door open and the sunlight was giving me the perfect lighting to work in, I was slowly slipping into the state my mom liked to call 'spacey Porter land'. It was, in her words, the land where anyone could sneak up behind me, place a chloroformed-cloth over my nose, drag me out of the garage, kidnap me and I'd wake up wondering when I'd left my garage.
And that was exactly what happened to me that day. Well...except for the chloroformed-cloth...and the kidnapping part...and the bewilderment. But definitely the sneaking up behind me part. That part did happen.
“I think you need more black on the bottom part,” a deep voice said behind me, making me jump up off my stool at an ungodly speed, a shriek leaving my lips as I spun around, a brush with green paint on it in my hand. My hand flew to my chest as my heart hammered in my chest, my breaths coming out in loud huffs.
My eyes widened as they fell on the two faces in front of me. Standing in my garage were the hurricane twins. One splattered with green paint, his jaw set in an annoyed glare, while the other stood staring between us in gleeful disbelief.
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