2. "My Dad's called Phil, stupid"

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A/N: The next couple of chapters of more to just to set the story and introduce the characters properly before the boys come into it, just letting you know, but they're still important to the story

Also, I have made a Spotify playlist for this story and its sequel, there's a link to it on my profile bio if you're interested in having a listen :)

"So this is your last bag, right Britt?"

"Yes, thank you Dad" she smiles sweetly up at him.

"How big do you think my room is?" I scoff loudly. She claimed she was only bringing a couple of bags of her clothes but has arrived with three suitcases full of her crap.

"I'm sure we'll find the space" Phil attempts to assure me, before leaving the room.

Brittany glances around the room, turning her nose up at everything in disgust.

"I don't like your wallpaper" she comments, as though I will instantly start tearing it down just for her.

"If you don't like it, then don't fucking stay here" I reply flatly.

"I suppose it will do" she says, giving me a sarcastic smile, which I return.

The idea of living with Tristan is really starting to appeal to me.

I'd actually contemplated it a lot since I'd spoke with him two days ago. Our mum has agreed that I could go only if I make the effort to share with Brittany for a few days first. I know that if I do go and stay with him that Brittany will be living in my room on her own and will probably trash it or something stupid, but I really need a break. From Brittany. From my mum. From this house. Plus, staying with Tris sounds fun. Aside from the typical brother-sister bickering, we have always got on pretty well and we have always been close. Even though I don't see him as much now he's in the band, we still speak a lot and I'm really proud of him.

And living with him seems a million times better than this arrangement. My mum decided that Phil and Brittany could move in right away, but it had taken a couple of days to bring all their stuff to our house. She also said that they'd start taking stuff out of Tris's room within the next couple of weeks. and that's just taking stuff out; they've still got to redecorate it all to Brittany's taste and put all of her crap in it, which my mother claimed may 'take a while' because her and Phil be 'busy' with 'wedding stuff'.

I thought I'd have to share a room with Brittany for a couple weeks tops, not a while. How long is a while? Weeks? Months?

Probably fucking years knowing my luck.

"So I need some room for all of my makeup" she says as she picks up a massive glittery pink vanity case from the floor, "I was thinking here" she adds as she pushes all my makeup and cosmetic items from the centre of my dressing table where I'd neatly placed them all, to the edge in a big messy clump, a couple of makeup brushes and a bottle of nail varnish clattering on the floor. All I can do is stare at her in shock as she dumps the vanity case in the middle of the table.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" I seethe.

"Making room for my stuff" she shrugs.

"You can't put it there!" I exclaim, "are you stupid? You can't just start moving my stuff and shoving it on the floor!"

"Well, I just did"

"Pick them up!" I demand, pointing at the mess on my carpet.

"No, they're yours"

"It's your fucking fault they're there!"

Love & War | Brad Simpson ✔️Where stories live. Discover now