Babysitting the Player

Chapter 3

"Alex! Alex! Your phone! Alex!" Mom yells from across the house.

Only my mother treats a ringing phone like a bomb that needs to be diffused.

"I'm coming!" I yell back to her. I finally reach the kitchen and she's holding my phone in her right hand.

"It's Bryce." She smiles.

That's weird.

"Oh, okay." I take my phone from her and head back down the hall to my room. Once I'm far enough away from her, I answer the call. "Some people text, you know."

"Hello to you too." He laughs.

"What's up?" I ask with a smile.

"Do you have time to show me around today? My mom is up my ass about making friends and getting a job and I've found the mall but I don't know where else people here hang out."

"Yeah, I got you. When do you want to go?"

"Does now work?"

"Now?"

"We can go later if that works better."

"No, now is fine."

"Great."

"Great."

"I'll meet you outside in a couple minutes." He hangs up.

I wish I had time to straighten my hair but my blonde waves will just have to fall down to my waist. I check myself in my mirror and thankfully my makeup doesn't need to be touched up. My baby pink crop top matches my eyeshadow perfectly and I swear that should be an Olympic sport.

I grab my car keys and wallet off my nightstand and slip on a pair of black flip flops.

My mother appears in my doorway. "Where are you going?"

"Out with Bryce."

Why did I word it like that?

"Oh, a date already. It hasn't even been a week." She smirks.

"It's not a date." I roll my eyes. "I'm still with Johnny."

"For now."

"I gotta go." I push past her and down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Grandma asks.

"Just out," I say and I run down the stairs and out the front door before I can be interrogated some more.

Bryce stands in the middle of the cul-de-sac and damn, he looks good. His black t-shirt is tight around his biceps just like his red one was the other day and I can't help but wonder if all his shirts fit like that. With biceps like his, they must.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey."

"I really appreciate you doing this."

"Yeah, of course. Are you trying to find anything specific or do you want to just drive around and get a sense of the area?"

"Kinda both."

"Okay. Let's go." I open the door to my Chevy.

"This is yours?" he asks.

"Yeah, why?" I hop in the driver's seat.

"I swear, everybody here has money." He gets in the passenger seat.

"My grandma has money, not my mom and I."

"What do you mean?"

"This is her house. My mom grew up here." I pull out of the driveway.

"Why do you live with her, if you don't mind my asking?"