Chapter Six

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Chapter Six

The Guest.

Anna

"So, who's this guest?" I ask mum, as I sweep the floor.

We are both tidying up the house, since this guest is coming in an hour. My brothers tried to bail out of the whole cleaning up thing by making up tasks, so they could get out of the house. Mum believed them and they managed to escape.

But me? I tried to bail out by saying that I have lots of homework, a test to study for, a fifty-page essay and taking Molly, my beagle, to the pet store, so I could buy her a bow. I guess I went too far with my lies because once I told mum about the whole bow thing, she said that I HAVE to stay and clean with her.

"Well, he's-" Mum starts.

"He?"  I interrupt, in surprise.

"Yes, he's a really sweet guy and I think you would make good friends, although..." she trails off, mumbling the last part to herself.

"Although...?" I urge her to continue, but she just smiles.

"You'll like him," she says.

"Do dad and the guys know about him?" I ask, worriedly, already feeling bad for the poor guy.

"Of course, they do," she tells me.

I eye her suspiciously as she dusts the furniture. Something tells me that I'm not going to like this.

We continue cleaning up for the next hour, until I start feeling like my throat is on fire. That's when I remember that I'm actually allergic to dust, I tell mum that I'm going to rest in my room for a bit and she says okay. I go upstairs and throw myself on the bed, I guess all that moving and the fact that the allergies were getting to me, made me so tired that I fell asleep.

I wake up two hours later, and I'm already feeling better. I go downstairs and notice that it's eerily quiet. I guess mum went to work. I walk inside the kitchen, open the fridge, bending down a bit and search for the water. Water, water, water. Where's the dang water?

"Hi," a deep voice says from behind the fridge's door and I scream, punching whoever it is in the face. I slap my hands over my mouth, when I realize who it is.

"What are you doing in my house?" I ask, stepping back and slowly taking my hands off my mouth.

"Damn, you punch hard," Luke says, holding his nose. I watch as he tilts his head back, blinking his eyes rapidly as if there's something in his eye.

"What are you doing in my house?" I repeat.

"You know, I was expecting more of a friendly welcome," he says, leaning on the fridge and he didn't even have a single bruise. What the heck is he? A bean bag?

That's when I realize what he's talking about. "And I wasn't expecting you to be the guest," I mutter.

"I heard that," he says. "And you should be happy, Cherries."

"Don't call me that," I tell him.

"The shoe fits," he shrugs.

"Um, why are you exactly staying at our house?"

"Well, my mom and my sisters had to go visit my aunt and I'm not really a fan of family gatherings. Your mom, somehow, knew about my situation and she offered for me to stay here and I gladly accepted, although my mom doesn't like your mom, but we had no other choice. The end," he explains.

"But, aren't you old enough to stay alone?"

"My mom doesn't trust me with the house, because last time, I had a party, the cops got involved. I'm guessing she doesn't want her house to be a crime scene or something," he replies, running his hand through his black hair.

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