"I want to be the reason you touch yourself at 4 am." He groaned, just the tip and I was already clutching into him like knot. God how much I missed this taboo.
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Enzo Parker was the ki...
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Back at home, things weren't exactly looking up. Elia had locked herself in her bedroom, which, honestly, was a miracle in itself. Part of me wanted to sneak in when she fell asleep, just to mess with her, but the last time I tried that, I got a scolding from Mom that I was still recovering from. Elia was the definition of a "snitch." I mean, seriously, last time I took her to one of my parties, she ended up pushing Paul's sister, Kiela, into the damn pool. It was hilarious, but did I make a new enemy that day? Probably.
So, here I was, sprawled out on the couch watching Scream 6 for the third time, because why not? It was 8 PM when Elia finally emerged from her room, like some grumpy cat that just woke up from a nap. She plopped down next to me, leaning on my arm for a second. I sighed dramatically and pushed her face away with one hand, trying to reclaim my personal space.
"What?" I asked, even though I already knew what was coming.
"I'm hungry," she whined. Knew it. She was never this clingy unless her bottomless pit of a stomach needed filling.
"Dad left sushi," I mumbled, using my legs to push her off the couch a bit so I could stretch out more. I put the remote down and tried to focus on the movie, but Elia wasn't having it.
She let out a loud, dramatic yell right in my ear. "Enzo!!"
"Shut up, it's on the goddamn counter!" I shouted back, grabbing a pillow and swinging it at her face. She responded by flipping me the bird, which earned her a death glare.
"Do it again, I dare you, Elia Parker," I warned, giving her my best "big brother means business" look. She stared at me for a moment, probably weighing her options. She knew I wasn't kidding, but instead of pushing her luck, she just hummed nonchalantly and walked off to the kitchen to grab her food.
I watched her go, shaking my head. "Annoying little brat," I muttered to myself, but deep down, I knew this was just our way of saying we actually cared. In a totally dysfunctional, we're-probably-gonna-kill-each-other way.
As the movie continued to play, I tried to relax, but the sound of Elia rummaging around in the kitchen made it impossible. She was probably making a mess, and guess who'd get blamed for that later? Exactly.
I turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise, but it was no use. I could hear her humming some annoying tune while she ate, and I couldn't help but grin. Life with Elia was chaotic, loud, and sometimes outright ridiculous, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Well, maybe for a night at Melissa's party, but still.
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"Elia!! I fucking swear, clean the goddamn kitchen!" I yelled after a few minutes of trying to ignore the inevitable. There was no way I was about to play maid after her mess, but instead of a response, all I heard was the bathroom door closing.
I groaned, knowing exactly what she was doing-taking her sweet time in there just to avoid cleaning up. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself off the couch and trudged to the kitchen. As soon as I walked in, I felt my blood pressure spike. Sushi containers were scattered everywhere, soy sauce dribbled across the counter like some kind of abstract art piece, and was that rice on the ceiling? How the hell did she even manage that?
If Elia wasn't in the bathroom pretending to be occupied, I would've dragged her by her ponytail to clean this up. But here I was, left to deal with the aftermath of Hurricane Elia. Reluctantly, I started cleaning up the mess, grumbling under my breath the entire time.
"Goddamn it, Elia, you're gonna pay for this. Real fucking good," I muttered as I scrubbed the counter. She was definitely getting the silent treatment for the rest of the night. And maybe I'd "accidentally" switch off the Wi-Fi for a bit. Revenge was best served petty.
As I washed the dishes, I made sure to leave the water running extra loud, hoping the noise would make her feel guilty. Not that it ever worked-Elia had a guilt meter set to zero. I was halfway through scrubbing a particularly stubborn soy sauce stain when I heard the bathroom door open.
I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Elia stroll out, wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping wet. She was humming to herself, completely ignoring the fact that I was elbow-deep in the mess she'd created.
"Nice job, Chef Gordon Ramsay," she smirked as she walked by, not even bothering to hide her amusement.
"Oh, you think this is funny?" I shot back, flicking some water in her direction. She dodged it, laughing like this was all some great joke.
"Come on, big brother. You're so good at it," she teased, sticking her tongue out at me.
I grabbed a dirty dish towel and whipped it in her direction, just missing her as she darted away, still laughing.
"Next time, you're cleaning up your own mess, you little demon," I grumbled, but I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. Sure, she was a pain in the ass, but she was my pain in the ass. And one day, I'd get my payback. Until then, I'd just have to put up with her chaos.
As I finally finished the last dish, I heard Elia shout from her room, "Hey, Enzo, can you make me some popcorn?"
I dropped the dish I was holding back into the sink and stared at the ceiling, silently praying for strength.
"Elia, I swear, if you ask me for one more thing tonight, I'm selling you on eBay!" I shouted back.
But, of course, I knew I'd end up making that damn popcorn anyway. ----
After Elia was finally asleep and I'd done the dreaded recheck of her homework (because Mom had texted me a reminder that I couldn't ignore), I made sure everything was in order. Lights off, doors locked, the whole nine yards. I was just about to head upstairs when my eyes fell on the trash can by the door.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. I'd completely forgotten to take the trash out. The last thing I wanted to do was go outside, but if I woke Elia up to do it, I'd never get her back to sleep. And knowing my luck, if the trash didn't make it out tonight, Mom would somehow find out and pin it on me. The last time that happened, I got a scolding that was still fresh in my trauma bank.
Reluctantly, I grabbed the trash bag and headed outside. The night air was cool, and I tried to make this as quick and painless as possible. But as I turned to head back inside, something caught my eye-the house next door.
My face twisted in confusion. Was there a new neighbor? That house had been empty for two years straight after the previous neighbors, the Dominics, moved out following some bizarre accident involving their dog. No one had touched the place since.
Just as I was about to shrug it off and ready to go back to my front door, I saw the neighbor's door open. My jaw almost dropped.
Stepping out of that house was...Mommy? No, seriously, she looked like she'd walked straight off the pages of a high-fashion magazine. This woman was a straight-up goddess, the kind you see on billboards or in fancy perfume ads, not just casually walking out of some old, dusty house at night.
I stood there, frozen like a complete idiot, still holding the trash bag. She didn't seem to notice me-or if she did, she was pretending not to. Either way, I couldn't move. I just watched as she stepped out, her silhouette perfect against the porch light.
What the hell was she doing in a place like this? And more importantly, how did I not know we had a literal goddess moving in next door?
It wasn't until the trash bag started leaking on my feet that I snapped out of it, muttering curses under my breath. I quickly tossed the trash into the bin and bolted back inside, my mind racing. Who the hell was she? And why did she look like she was about to be the reason I'd be taking out the trash a whole lot more often?
