Dedicated to: legendAmourshipper Can't thank you enough for reading my crap!
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THE TRESPASSER CAUGHT THE CHANCLA BEFORE IT CAN hit him in the face with the reflexes of Heimdall from Marvel.
It was then I realised he wasn't just a stranger. He was a hot stranger.
With eyes the color of caramel mocha, olive tanned skin, chiseled jaw and the way his white t-shirt club to his perfectly sculpted abs, dang, he was hotter than the summer sun itself. Someone turn on the AC for me.
"What are you?" He asked me, rudely. I was a who not a what. The nerve to objectify a human.
"I should be the one asking you that!" I wagged a finger at him, rambling. "Who the heck are you and how did you break in? Also stay where you are! I have my Mum's number on speed dial and she is a police officer!"
Johanna, my mum, wasn't a police officer. She owned a bakery. But he didn't need to know that.
"You are threatening me to turn me in for staying in my own house?" He looked at me like I had a loose screw in my head. "Who the fuck does that?"
Wait — this is his house?
"I don't get it," I mumbled. "I was told that only the kid I was supposed to babysit would be in the house."
"Well, where is your younger brother that I am supposed to babysit?" I asked him. He stared at me like I have grown a Rudolph nose.
"There is no younger brother." What?
"Then your younger nephew, perhaps?" I tried again.
"There is no one other than me here."
.
.
.
"What the hell?!" I aggressively pointed at him. "Am I really supposed to babysit a fucking full-grown sixteen year old?!"
"I didn't ask for this either," He snapped. "And I am seventeen!"
But I was too engrossed in my own tragi-comedy to listen to him. "Oh my god, is this your way of getting back at me for eating your Reese's Buttercups, DeeDee?"
"How much did my mum pay you to keep me locked in the house?" The guy had crossed me and pulled out a box of Dunkin' Donuts from the shelf. He was talking like I had kidnapped him for ransom.
