Life With The Twist Boys

I Don't Like Him

Hola guys I added more to chapter 16 so if you want to go back you can
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After school, I locked myself in my room and set to work unpacking, determined to keep my promise to Stan. I would settle in and make the most of my situation. On my bed was a checklist so that as I unpacked, I could make sure all my belongings were here and organized.

 
Even though it was only spring, the house was hot. The Twist didn’t seem to understand the benefits of air-conditioning, so I had my window shoved up all the way to let what little breeze there was inside. I’d been at it for almost an hour, moving my clothes from boxes to the dresser that Anne had managed to squeeze into the room, when I heard voices drifting up from the backyard. There was a splash of water, then another. Wiping the sweat from the back of my neck, I peered out the window and spotted two people in the pool.
 

“You look so sexy when you’re dripping wet. I just want to run my hands all over you.”

 
It was Ryan speaking. His fingers worked back and forth as he rubbed someone’s shoulders. He wasn’t facing me, but I recognized his red swim trunks immediately.

“Sexy, huh?” Zayn drawled. “Tell me more.”

“Really, guys?” another voice said, and Harry stepped into view on the deck, also wearing swim trunks. He kicked off his flip-flops. “I don’t want to barf in the pool.”

 
“The chlorine will kill it. Stop being so bitchy,” Zayn said, but he untangled himself from Ryan.

Giving his brother the finger, Harry stepped up to the side of the pool and curled his toes over the edge.

“Harold Edward Styles!” Anne called from somewhere out of sight. “Shouldn’t you be rewriting that history paper?” It wasn’t a question. Harry looked up at the sky as if to ask “Why me?” before slowly turning away from the pool.

 
“On it, Mom. No need to cool off. It’s only like a hundred degrees inside,” he said sarcastically.

 
“Good, and when you go upstairs, ask Louis what type of dressing he likes on his salad. We’re eating dinner in half an hour.”

Slipping his sandals back on his feet, Harry headed toward the house, and a few seconds later I heard the screen slide shut.

“Alone at last,” Zayn said, his voice low. He swam over to Ryan and folded he in his arms.

 
“Louis?” he said, pushing away from him. “That boy who sat with us at lunch yesterday? What’s he doing here?”

I froze at the sound of my name.

“Yeah, him,” Zayn answered. “ He’s living with us.”

“Un-flipping-believable,” Ryan said loudly, his face twisting in anger. “That’s why you’ve been spending time with him. You like him, don’t you?”

Zayn didn’t answer. The following silence was static and uncomfortable, unbearable even, and I stared at Zayn, willing him to answer.

“I barely know him,” he said eventually.

“You obviously know him well enough to invite him to sit with us at lunch.”

“You know me,” he said back. “It’s no big deal.”

 
“Not a big deal? Are you serious? He’s living under the same roof as you,” Ryan hissed.

“Yeah, I’m completely serious. Why are you overreacting? It’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”