The Boy Next door (j.b)

Chapter 3 ~ Cookies

*EDITED*

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~ Chapter 3 ~

While cleaning my father's room, I stumbled over several panties that were sure as hell not my mother's old undies. It scared me that this was his way of moving on. Walking back to my room again, I grabbed my bag before taking it with me downstairs. The house was utterly silent, meaning that he had already left.

I sat down by the kitchentable and took out my calculus homework. Mrs.Hale usually gave us a lot of homework to do, so getting started already wasn't a bad idea. People called her NaziHale, because of the amount of homework she makes us do. Half an hour passed and my dad came home with two bags of food. It wasn't only the ingredients for the cookies, but also some real food. Potatoes, rice, pasta, cheese - you name it. He usually did this once or twice a month. And the week we actually had food I would eat like a pig when he wasn't around. So imagine him being gone all night. Maybe I could actually fit some bread into my stomach then. I was starving. 

"Did you clean my room as I said?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied, as I started loading out the groceries. 

"Good. Now make dinner before you make those cookies. I'll come with you to the neighbour's house," he added casually, and was about to walk out of the kitchen when I inturrupted.

"Why are you coming?"

It was weird. He was never interested in our neighbours. Not Martha either. He hated Martha for some reason. So why did he care now?

"It was a hot one there, if I'm lucky, I'll get some," he winked seductivly, taking a cigar out of his pocket. He plased it between his teeth and started talking again. "It was a boy around your age there too, but don't get too involved with him. If he finds out, It'll be easy to blame everything on you."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything.

He breathed in some smoke, walking out of the kitchen, leaving me to do the cooking.

Taking out some spaghetti, Iquickly put it on the stove and started cooking it. Judging by the clock, I didn't have much time for the cookies. I placed some spaghetti on two plates, along with some tomato-sauce he had bought. Placing more food on my father's plate, I made sure it was a smaller portion for me. He would probably get mad if I didn't give him more food than I gave myself.He was just mean like that.

I walked my way to the livingroom, giving him his plate of food. I didn't eat with him, I sat in the kitchen and ate alone. 

I made some chocolatechip cookies quickly, before placing them on a big plate. "Are we leaving, or what?" I shouted while waiting outside.

He came out looking better than he did before. He was wearing a white shirt, rolling up the sleeves of it. Black, worn out jeans, along with some cologne. 

He never wore cologne.

I rolled my eyes, as I started walking towards their house. Dad was right behind me, making my back tense up slightly. I rang the doorbell, waiting for someone to open the door. Dad placed his hands on my shoulders, making me stiffen. He squeezed the both of them slowly, I took a deep breath and prayed for someone to open the door.

The door opened and a short lady with brown hair and blue eyes grinned at the two of us.

"Hi! We noticed someone across the street, and wanted to give you a little 'welcome' to our neighbourhood," Dad said happily. I could picture him behind me, giving the lady a warm, and let's not mention fake, smile.

"My daughter made some cookies for you."

Shut up, you fake manwhore. I handed her the plate, smiling.

"Thank you so much! Do you want to come in? We could have a cup of tea," she smiled.

A cup of tea? This isn't the castle my dear, this is USA. We drink beers here, and eat doughnuts.

"Yes!" My dad said happily before I could even open my mouth. She led us inside and there were boxes everywhere.

"Sorry for the mess. There's still a lot of stuff to take care of. But I'm done with the kitchen so let's sit in there," she nodded at us, never losing her big smile. My dad laughed, but nodded slightly. Seriously, what's wrong with him today?

We got into the kitchen, and it was so lovely. It was the same design as ours, but they made it seem so loving. There were small pink plates and blue tablecloths. It seemed cozy, ours barely seemed like a kitchen at all. 

"So I am Pattie, I never captured your names?" She was still smiling.

"I'm Ariana." I smiled at her, taking a seat by the table. 

"And I'm Ted." My dad followed suit. 

"It's really nice to know that we have nice neighbours around here! Tell me Ariana, how old are you?" She asked.

"I'm 17. " I answered shortly.

"My son is upstairs, he's 18" she smiled. "Justin! Can you come down here for a second?" I heared his footsteps running down the stairs.

"Hey," he smiled, his white teeth showing as he came into the kitchen. He kissed his moms cheek, before looking up and we locked eyes. His hazel-brown eyes were deep, and intense. He clenched his jaw, and licked his lips, sending me a small smile. 

"This is Ariana and her father, Ted. Our neighbours." I got up from the chair and we shaked hands and exchanged a dazed, "Nice to meet you."

"Justin, maybe you could show Ariana your room? While we could have a cup of tea?" She smiled at him, before looking over at my father. My dad sent me an unreadable look, but something told me I shouldn't follow him upstairs. Well, too late.