The Gang Leader's Shorty

Chapter 8

Even in my dozed state, I could feel their eyes boring intently into me. My eyes flicker open to see Cole, Max and James sprawled out on my bedroom floor, silently watching me as I sleep, "You're creeps," I murmur, "I'm just gonna go downstairs because you guys are weird," I say, slowly backing towards the stairs. All four of them shrug and burst out laughing. However, after catching a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror - a glimpse I wish I had never gotten - I see what they're staring at; an above average sized spot, if you could even refer to it as a spot. 

I quickly rush back into my room and shove them out of the door, getting dressed and working magic with concealer, attempting to fix my face. Spots usually wouldn't bother me, in fact, I normally wouldn't even care to cover it up with makeup but something about being around those three makes me feel vulnerable. However, the brewing volcano on my cheek is the least of my concerns when a waft of smoke seeps into my bedroom. I sprint to the kitchen, the smoke hitting me in the face as my brother attempts to diffuse it, the guys coughing and spluttering as they wave pathetic hands in front of the faces to bat away the smoke, "Fuck! Who let Luke cook?" I exclaim and they all turn to me and shrug, Luke pulling out some burnt bacon from the oven, "We didn't know he was so shit," Max shrugs, "You're lucky he hasn't burnt the house down!" I say, exasperated. 

I roll my eyes and go to the fridge after opening the back door to let the smoke out and get out the ingredients for pancakes, "Luke, put that shit in the bin," I order and he does as he is told, "All four of you sit there and do not get up under any circumstance," I chuckle and they all sit down and stare at me like children, "What happened to the second head growing on your forehead?" James asks, chuckling.

"What happened to your manners, James?" I question, mentally rolling my eyes. "Yeah, but seriously, where'd it go?" He asks again, "It's called makeup, boys, it does wonders," I say shaking my head at them, turning around to let the mixture cook. We awkwardly make small talk as the pancakes cook, seeing as this is the first time we've all properly spent time with my brother, it seems to feel a little forced, "James what do you want on yours?" I say waving the pancake at him, "Got any syrup?" I gasp and turn around to him, eyebrows raised, "Did you just ask if we have any syrup?" 

"Yeah..." He draws out, confused by my melodramatic reaction to his highly offensive question. What kind of household doesn't have syrup? "I'm appalled, we always have syrup, it's Luke's favourite on his pancakes!" I say, dramatically, swiping the syrup off the counter and squeezing it all over Luke and James' pancakes, sliding their plates in front of them. 

I turn to Max, already suspecting an outrageous request, "Got any ice-cream?" He asks and I nod, spinning to face the freezer before pulling out three tubs of different flavours, "Chocolate, strawberry or vanilla?" I ask holding tubs up, "All of them!" Max shouts, fist bumping the air. I laugh and put a scoop of each on his and turn to Cole, "Nutella? I guess you have it since it's your favourite," Cole says smugly, a glimmer of pride on his face knowing that he's got the answer right. Although I'm not very impressed, I bet even Tess knows about my Nutella addiction.

Still, I beam and nod, "You know me so well," I say laughing, my cheeks glinting with a slight pink tone as I spread the Nutella onto his pancake and swipe some onto mine. I sit down next to Cole and we all eat like savage animals, "Why don't you two just go on a date or something?" Luke pipes up, nudging Cole with a mouth full, pieces of pancake spurting out onto the counter. I grimace at both his manners and his attempt at a humiliating setup, "Shut up, Luke," I whine, shooting him a glare. I am not about to be set up with Cole by my twin brother. 

After about half an hour of talking and eating we decide to just ditch school because we are already an hour late, much to my dismay, might I add. They all convinced me by saying I'd get detention for being late, whereas a day off school could be because I'm sick but a detention on my record would be worse. I must admit, as bizarre as their argument is intelligent, I was convinced way too easily.