I fell back, landing on my butt with a sound thud and hitting my head on the wooden bedroom floor.
"Ouch," I groaned, grabbing the back of my head.
Jeez, why did I have to be the one to rearrange the guest room? It wasn't like my cousin was going to stay here forever! She was just visiting for a few weeks! She could do this herself, anyway!
I had been trying to pull the King-sized bed away from the door for the past hour. Obviously my parents hadn't figured out that their son was probably the weakest human being in the world. I could barely lift my head in class half the time, let alone pull a gigantic bed across a vast bedroom!
"Alex? Have you gotten everything arranged?" my dad asked from behind the closed bedroom door. "Felicia's going to be here in about an hour."
Great, that gave me another hour to hopelessly play tug-of-war with a gigantic bed.
"Not quite, Dad. Could you give me hand?" I replied, continuing to struggle with the annoying furniture.
He opened the door slowly and his eyes scanned the entire room curiously. A can of blue paint was tilted against the white wall farthest to the left and his eyes ran up the long trail of dark blue paint that was slashed vigorously across the area.
His expression told me that he was not pleased.
"Uh, it looks like you could use a lot of help," he blatantly told me, stepping inside the room completely, shutting the door.
I blew a strand of curly brown hair out of my face and pouted. "You guys should have just left the room white and clean, like I had said."
He chuckled. "Son, you know how stubborn your mother is. Once she has her thoughts set on something, she only cares about how it affects her, and won’t change her mind for anything."
Oh, he was so right. As a matter of fact, Dad was the only one out of my parents who could be empathetic. Mom usually just saw it from her point of view and could be pretty blunt sometimes. But, alas, that was my mother for you.
"So, I'm going to pull the bed by the window and you can continue painting. Is that alright?" Dad offered.
I nodded my head and stepped toward the vigorously painted wall.
I tilted my head, observing the masterpiece that was plastered against the surface. Honestly, it looked like something Vincent van Gogh would draw. The way the lines curved sharply resembled a beautiful- HA! Just yanking your chain! I didn't know crap about drawing!
"Are you going to paint the wall or will you continue to look at your art project?" Dad joked.
Retreating from my thoughts, I picked up the large, dripping paint brush and slapped it on the whitest part of the wall dragging it along the vicinity in an up-and-down motion. "Actually, Dad. I consider it a masterpiece—a truly magnificent piece of work!"
He rolled his eyes playfully. "Well, you'd better hurry up and finish your "masterpiece" before-"
"Vincent!" Mom shouted from what sounded like the kitchen, "They're here!"
Dad cursed under his breath and quickly moved the bed to the far side of the room, next to the window like it was nothing. I mean, come on! That bed had to have weighed at least a hundred pounds, and he tossed it around like his name was Romaine!
"Alex, we can finish this up later," Dad said, hurrying out of the room.
I breathed a sigh of relief and followed suit, heading downstairs into the kitchen. All of a sudden, sweet, chocolate smell wafted through the area and my eyes immediately shot to the oven.
YOU ARE READING
Flirt (BoyxBoy)
Teen Fiction"If I wanted you," he lifted his index finger to my face and trailed it down my cheek, sending an unusual electric spark to shoot throughout my body. "I could have you." Alexander "Alex" Moore is just your average gay kid. He's got a great life, ama...
