My Deal With The Badboy

1. Dinner

Chapter 1: Dinner

Our foreheads were touching, brown, sparkling eyes, boring into mine. I tried to force my eyes to stay open as the sweat started to bead up on my forehead, my vision was blurring as I opened my eyes wider, which only made them dryer. I could feel my eyes starting to water.

blink

"You lose!" My little brown eyed sister yelled, while jumping up and down with excitement as she started doing her victory dance. I sighed in frustration as I push my glasses back up into my nose. I have an amazing victory dance, but I hardly ever get to use it in this family because I always lose, and I do mean always.

My sister, Brooke, was really pretty with her brown doe eyes, brown flowing hair and well built cheekbones. Was it even possible to be that beautiful at seven? Apparently so. She was a lot like my dad in the looks department, she had the same eye colour, hair, along with a very similar face structure to dad. They could probably be twins if it weren't for the huge age gap. But unfortunately for me, I look a lot like my mother. Blonde hair, same shape face and the only thing that I could identify that was my dad's was my eyes. The brown doe eyes. I mean, don't get me wrong, my mum was a really beautiful lady, but she has long lost my respect, and I want little reminder of her as possible. But it doesn't help when I look in the mirror and see her staring back at me through younger eyes.

"You know the rules Juliette." My dad chuckled as he stood up out of his 'referee' couch.

"You lost, so you have to do the dishes!" Brooke finished clapping her hands as the her grin spread even wider.

"This isn't fair!" I folded my arms in protest.

You see, we have this rule in our house, if there is a chore to do, we have a competition. And of course, I usually lose. Ever since mum died, order within the house crumbled and so dad stepped in deciding that a competition would be the best idea. But I'm uncoordinated, and suck at almost everything, which means I lose and end up doing everything.

"Come on! I always lose! Can't I pick the next game? Or can we have a roster like normal people?" I moaned.

I had more important things to do, like homework, then to do every stupid chore in this house, I do, surprisingly, have a life too.

"Don't be such a sore loser!" My dad laughed while my sister pushed me forcefully into the kitchen. She's exceptionally strong for a seven year old.

I sighed then turned my head towards the sink. It was piled so high that the dishes were almost tumbling off the side of the bench. How long has it been since dishes were last done?! After seeing dads stern face I knew there was no use arguing and I couldn't back out of it now, I picked up a plate and started to clean.

When I did the dishes I always got into a rhythm, pick up the dish, dip into the water, scrub, dip into the water, place on the sink. Pick up, dip, scrub, dip then place. I started to hum a happy tune, getting into the rhythm.

Then I felt hands on my back and I yelped, dropping the dish back in the sink, spraying soapy water all over me. I swung around to see my dad with an amused expression on his face, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What was that for?!" I complained as I wiped away the soapy water from my face.

He chuckled, "I just wanted to tell you to hurry up, because I've got an important dinner with my, hopefully new, boss. Brooke and you are invited to come. And he told me that he has a boy around your age too." He winked at me.

"Dad, come on, we talked about this. I enjoy being single." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm getting old! I need some grandchildren to pass on the family name!" He folded his arms.