The Devil Wears Girl Jeans [BEING EDITED]

The Devil Wears Girl Jeans (Chapter 2)

"Darn, based on how long you guys have been sleeping, I was hoping you'd both fallen in to comas. How disappointing." Lacey grunted the next morning when Quinn walked into the kitchen at around 11, Tristan trailing in behind him. To Lacey, sleeping until 8:30 was considered 'sleeping in'. Anything after that, and she'd be setting fire to your mattress in an attempt to wake you up.

"Oh, I see how it is. Bears can hibernate and it's a "part of nature", but when I do it, it's 'creepy' and 'antisocial.'" Quinn yawned, sliding into one of the wooden chairs across from me at the dining room table.

Lacey rolled her eyes as she stabbed a fork into the toaster, emerging with a piece of blackened bread. She glared at it for a second before tossing it on top of the pile of other pieces of reject toast, which was now starting to lean dangerously to one side. I wasn't feeling particularly adventurous today, and therefore did not want to risk eating any of Lacey's cooking, so instead I grabbed a leftover hamburger patty from their fridge, and threw it in the microwave. After soaking it in ketchup, I finally deemed it edible, and returned to the table where Quinn and Tristan were staring uneasily at the pile of bread-shaped charcoal.

"I'm happy that you're eating a burger for breakfast." Tristan informed me when I set my plate down.

"Alright..."

"Its not polite to not say thank you to a compliment." he informed me, quite seriously, and I shot Lacey a bewildered look. She just rolled her eyes and gave me her "Its Tristan, what do you expect?" look in return.

"I, uh. Thank you." I said. Many years of knowing Tristan had taught me that the best thing to do when he said something dumb like that, was just to go with it.

He gave me a content nod before getting to work on trying to make the plate of toast that Lacey had set on the table, taste like actual food. It was mission impossible, but they looked pretty determined so I just let them do their thing.

After breakfast, the guys ran up to Quinn's room, and Lacey went to the bathroom to either a) vomit due to the amount of burnt toast she'd consumed within the last 10 minutes, or b) to try and get the jam out of her hair that was the result of Quinn discovering that the toast was actually more useful for throwing than it was for eating, so I let myself out.

The walk home was absolute hell, and I immediately regretted not doing any sort of physical activity this summer. Lacey lived at the very bottom of what was probably the steepest hill in the entire universe (okay not really, but it really and truly felt like it when you had to haul your out-of-shape self up it).

I had briefly considered calling my neighbour, Dallas, to come pick me up, but realized that he was most likely in hardcore gaming mode, and I had zero desire to listen to him talk about how he discovered that he doesn't need to rush to detection to stop dark templar if he gets sentries to force field his ramp long enough to get an observer or a forge. Or something like that.

By the time I got back to my house, I had a serious case of under boob sweat, with an extra attractive sweat moustache to match. On the bright side though, I'd done nothing but eat for the entire summer and hadn't become morbidly obese, which I was pretty sure made me a medical phenomenon.

My younger sister was busy trying to cram her Ken doll into one of Barbie's dresses when I walked into the living room, and so I, being the caring considerate older sister that I am, did not disturb her, and instead skipped down to the laundry room where I suspected my mom was.

"Ey giiiiirl." I greeted her, and she rolled her eyes. She obviously didn't appreciate having such a sassy daughter, which was a total shame.

"Did you have fun?" My mom asked, and I shrugged even though her back was to me.