Started as His Girlfriend (Sequel to "Started as His Tutor")

Future

"Wendy, wake up," Wren whines. 

I throw a pillow in the direction of her voice and use another to cover my head. 

"Go away!" I shoo. 

"Dad and I are hungry. Make us food."

"Just order take out or something," I groan. 

"I'm sick of takeout," she argues, jabbing my butt with her foot. 

"Ugh, why can't you guys let me sleep in?"

"It's already two."

"TWO?" I spring up, ripping apart my crusty eyes. "In the afternoon?"

"Yeah," Wren nods, putting her probing foot back onto the ground. 

"Shoot, I have to go," I roll off my bed, rummaging through my closet for clothes. 

"What, where?" Wren asks. 

"To Vincent's house. He's going a family trip."

"So why are you going over to his house?" Wren continues, still confused.

"I got him a neck pillow for his flight. Have you seen my jeans?"

"Dad didn't do the laundry yet."

"Dang it," I sigh, pulling out a jacket. "I guess I'll just wear this. I'm just dropping off a neck pillow anyways."

"What about food?"

"I'll cook when I get back," I say, zipping up the jacket and pulling on the first two socks I see, not bothering to match them. 

"You're so obsessed with Vincent you're willing to let your family starve," Wren complains, falling back onto my bed. 

"Stop being so melodramatic. I'll be back in like ten minutes."

"Yeah right. You'll probably go over there and flirt with Vincent for an eternity. He might even stuff you into his luggage."

I ignore Wren and pick up the gift bag with Vincent's pillow inside. Slipping my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants and grabbing my keys, I head out of my room. 

"I'll buy groceries to cook on my way home," I say to Wren. She responds with an unconvinced grunt, but I go downstairs nevertheless. 

On the couch, Dad is plopped on his stomach on the couch. His face is turn out to the right, so he can breathe. Seeing me walk downstairs, his eyes light up. 

"Food-"

"I'm going to Vincent's first," I interrupt him. 

"Traitor," he mumbles. "You don't love your old man anymore."

"See you, Dad," I chuckle, seeing him throw a fit just like Wren. All the time they spend together has turned them into exact replicas of one another. 

After arriving at Vincent's house, I park next to the sidewalk in front of his lawn and call him. It says the number is unavailable. I have no choice but to actually get out of the car and ring the bell. 

For the first time ever, Mr. Miller opens the door. His already scowling face becomes even more wrinkled and intense when he sees me. 

"What do you want?" he asks, as if I'm some annoying neighborhood kid that constantly kicks his ball over the fence. 

"I came to give Vincent this," I reply, unfazed by his demeanor.

"He's not here," he curtly responds. 

Does he think I'm stupid or something. If they're on a family vacation, then Mr. Miller shouldn't be home either if Vincent isn't. 

"Why are you still home then?" I ask.