Mr. Cinderella (5SOS) {discontinued}

(2) "Are You Related To Woodrow Wilson?"

Resting my head on my pillow, I tap my pen against my chin as I scan through the words on the page in front of me, but they all begin to blur together.  God, I hate History homework.  Actually, I hate History in general - and everyone hates homework.  "Ugh," I huff after a couple more minutes of reading the same sentence over and over again.  "I'm never going to understand this."  In a fit of rebelliousness, I throw my pen on the floor, folding my arms defiantly across my chest.

"Why don't you just ask for help with it?"  suggests Tyler.  He has been my boyfriend for the past four months, and he is currently slouching lazily on the chair in front of my desk, playing some stupid game he found online.  I roll my eyes - typical.  "When's it due?" he asks.

"Good question."  Sighing, I pull out the little diary I use to write down all my homework and tests, including the dates work is due.  "Tuesday," I answer, after finding the homework title on a page near the middle of the book.

Tyler presses a button - probably something to pause the game - and swivels the chair around to face me.  "Exactly.  So you can get some help from the teacher on Monday, complete the work that night and have it handed in on time like the good girl you are."

I stick my tongue out at him - he loves teasing me about how I'm the kind of girl that never wants to put a foot wrong.  I don't skip school, I never hike up my uniform school skirt the way most girls in our year do (I prefer wearing skirts that are longer than the width of a belt, thank you very much) and I always do my homework.  At least, that's what Tyler thinks - sure, the skirt thing is true, but I don't mind leaving homework until a couple of weeks after it's due in, and I have faked a few illnesses in the past to get out of Physics tests.  

"I can't leave it until Monday - I really need to get it done now," I say.  Today is Friday, so technically I have the whole weekend and Monday to do the work, but I'm going to have a lot to do over the next couple of days.  "I want to be free to help Brandy get settled in," I explain.

Brandy - you remember Brandy?  My internet friend whose interests include Twitter, Tumblr and Youtube-stalking 5 Seconds of Summer or, more specifically, Calum Hood - is flying out to England today.  After Cal told me about their upcoming tour six weeks ago, I decided to ask my parents for Brandy to come and stay with us so she would get to meet them.  At first I was kind of worried that she might get a bit too excited - I may have had a dream where she met Calum and jumped on him, causing him to fall over and break his neck, thus ending his career in the near future - but I quickly got over it.  If I am around (which I will be), I should be able to restrain her slightly.  Besides, if Brandy knew a member of one of my favourite bands, I know she would do the same for me.

"Crap, I forgot about her," Tyler admits, shaking his head slightly so that his hair falls slightly into his eyes.  "She's not gonna steal you from me, is she?"

"No chance," I smile.  She will be staying with us for three weeks, but I have promised to divide my time equally between Brandy, my best friend, Kat, Tyler and Calum (and the other guys in the band).  "But, for the record, her name is Brandy, not 'she'," I add.  I don't want my boyfriend making my friend uncomfortable by failing to acknowledge that she does, in fact, have a name. "Anyway, I'm gonna need to kick you off of the computer now so that I can google the answers to all of these questions."

Tyler smirks.  "I'm not on the computer.  I'm on the chair in front of the computer."  Winking at me, he gestures for me to come over to the desk.  I try to subtly motion for him to move off of the chair, but he ignores me and pulls me onto his lap.  Turning my head back towards him, I direct a warning glare at him to remind him that my dad is downstairs and could come up at any moment - even if I am only sitting on Tyler, my dad will find any excuse to keep him away from me.  Unfortunately, Dad is very badly affected by PPS: Protective Parent Syndrome.