Babysitting the Bad Boy's Brother

could you eat any louder you fucking neanderthal monkey

"Jesus, Claire. Where have you been?" I enter the room to see my sister sitting cross legged on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands. "You left so early yesterday morning that i didn't get a chance to talk to you."

I shrug nonchalantly and give her a small smile. "Sorry, sis."

"We need to talk boys."

Groaning, i tilt my head back in annoyance. "Why? You don't even like them. What do you care?"

She points her finger at me accusingly. "Okay, that is so beside the point. So anyways, my dear sister. Why did you lie about knowing the hot neighbor?"

"Jesus, I didn't even say i didn't know him. I said i hated him? There's a difference?"

"Im so intrigued.. is that whose sweatshirt was in the closet?" She says while simultaneously raising her eyebrow.

I freeze. "What? No."

She takes a sip of her tea, eyeing me from over the top of her brim. "Liar."

"Jesus Christ. Don't you have college to go back to or something?"

"I'll go back when I'm good and ready, thank you very much."

"Fine. Whatever. I'm gonna go practice."

"Why do you always do this?"

I give her a sarcastically quizzical look. "Do what?"

"You always use practicing to get out of annoying situations."

"I do not."

She takes another sip. "Yes, you do."
God, spill all the tea why don't you?

"I practice because I have to learn so much repertoire that I could literally drown in it. All State, College auditions, lessons, Chamber Orchestra, Portland Youth Symphony, High School Orchestra.... shall I continue?"

"Whatever." My sister waves her hand in dismissal. "Go do your thing, I guess."

"I will. Thanks."

About an hour in to my practice session, my dad calls me down to dinner. I find myself sighing in relief, because my back was starting to ache and I was ready for a good and long ass break.

We have pork and mashed potatoes, which was a pretty tame meal in my opinion.

"Where's your girlfriend?" I ask my sister.

"She wanted to pick up a few shifts at work before classes start back up, so she drove back."

"Oh." I take a sip of my milk. "Okay."

"Where's your boyfriend?" She questions back.

My father and I both choke on our milk simultaneously.

"What is she talking about?" My Dad questions at the same time that I say, "I literally hate all of the male species, and I do not have a boyfriend."

His eyes dart between us in suspicion. I can see his cop brain at work trying to decipher the situation.

"Dad, honestly. Stop freaking out." I say, "Claire plus boys equal nothing."

He just nods and gives me a humph noise. I roll my eyes and take a disgustingly large bite of mashed potatoes, earning an eye roll from my sister. I make sure to grin at her like the mature seventeen-year-old-almost-eighteen-year-old girl I am.

After dinner, my sister and I clear the table while my dad washes the dishes. As my sister leaves the kitchen, I follow her and hit her on the arm.

"Ow!"

"Seriously, what the fuck dude? Why would you bring that up in front of dad?"

"Okay, you are not allowed to be mad. You're being so secretive about this guy, and I can't believe you won't talk boys with me!"

"Jesus, there is nothing going on, and even if there were, why the hell would bringing it up around dad improve this situation at all? It's hard enough with just me and our father in the house as it is; he isn't exactly full of love and puppies. We have this good dynamic thing going on. You aren't allowed to just come home and fuck everything up. Theres a balance. A fucking balance, okay? For Christs sake."

"Jeez Claire, calm down a bit, will ya?"

"Oh my god, you are so infuriating!" I pivot on my heel, grab the keys from the bowl, and head for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out!" I yell behind me. I make sure to slam the door on the way out. I really know how to control my temper, I swear.

As soon as I get outside, my body tenses up. Where, exactly, do I think I'm going to go? I run down the steps and get into my car, eager to lock my doors and start moving. I haven't felt exactly safe since.. well... you know.

The event makes my mind wander towards Alec. Of course, why wouldn't my most traumatic moments lead to him somehow? That doesn't even surprise me.

"Gee, Claire." I say to myself and to nobody at the same time, "Get that moron out of your head."

I start my engine and back out of my driveway.

...

Before I know it, I'm pulling up to Lindsey's house. I'm in desperate need of some girl time.
And before you say it, no, my sister does not count as girl time. She sucks.

I run up her steps and let myself in before giving myself a chance to look around and freak myself out. The door is always kept unlocked, and I mean always, but I lock it as soon as I'm inside.

I check the living room. Dead silent. I head up the steps and all the lights are off. She must be gone.

I head into her room, open up her computer, and pull up Netflix. I turn on a random show about a girl and her mom in this small town or something with this diner guy named like Nick or Rick or something. I still can't figure out if he's the mom's boyfriend or not but he seems to hate her caffeine addiction. That's basically all I absorbed from the show. I kind of wish I could practice but at the same time lack all and any motivation.

After a while I start to get cold so I wrap myself up in one of her fuzzy bathrobes. It's 8:33. Where the hell is she?

I wake up to someone jumping onto the bed beside me. "Hello, slut. You're in my room."

I roll over and shove my face into the pillow. "Last time I checked, I wasn't a slut." But it came out groggy and muffled and probably completely incoherent. "What time is it?"

"Uhhhh like 10:30ish??"

I roll over to look at her. "Fantastic."

Lindsey is all made up in a black crop top and black jeans with some dark eye makeup. And she smells like beer. "Was someone being an illegal little delinquent?" I ask sarcastically.

"Just a small party. Don't worry about it. I'm gonna wash my face. You stayin' the night?"

"Yep."

"Okay. Id tell you to make yourself right at home but.. clearly you've already done that."

"Mi casa es tu casa?"

"God you're bad at Spanish, and it's the other way around since you're in my house."

"Fine. Mein haus ist dein haus? Wait. Dein haus ist mein haus?"

"Claire. Please, stop while you're ahead. Have you even taken german?"

"Nope! Was it right?"

"I'm gonna have to go with most likely not."

"Darn."

Lindsey gets up to get ready for bed. About ten minutes later, I'm drifting into sleep again and she climbs into the bed.
"Are you doing okay?"

"What? Totally. I'm fine."

I lied. I was not fine.