Destined

Twelve

Evelyn

"Who took the remote from the living room?" I ask when walking into the backyard. All I wanted to do since lunch ended was tune into MasterChef but I couldn't find the remote that has already caused many problems for me.
"I think Alex had it last." My dad tells me without looking up from the newspaper he held in his hands. Once daddy starts reading the paper, he hardly looks up until he sets it down. He loves his daily paper more than most things, it's the simple things in life really and it's something I definitely admire. If there was one person I didn't want to have the remote or possibly know the whereabouts of it, it was Alexander.
"Great, do you know where he is?" I ask although I didn't want to see him at the moment. I want MasterChef, I wish our television didn't require the remote so I could go about this without having to have a run-in so early in the morning.
"In his room." I give him a kiss on the cheek and hurry to Alexander's room, opening without caring to knock.
"Where is it. I know you have it."
"Have what?" I caught him off guard but he didn't give the reaction like other people usually would.
"Alexander, you have the remote and I want it back," I tell him.
"You seriously think I hid the remote?" He sets his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, taking his time to actually take a look at me.
"I know you took it from downstairs and I just want it back," I repeat.
"I don't have it nor do I know where it is. Why would I have it upstairs anyway, that wouldn't make any logical sense."
"How about you tell me the truth." I push.
"Evelyn, if I wanted to piss you off, I wouldn't do the little things like taking the remote. Did you actually look or did you just assume it was me?"
"Daddy told me you were the last one to have it so obviously I'm going to come here to get it back. Give it back." I demand.
"You're fitting the description of brat fairly well right now."
"I'm not a brat. Give me it."
His body faces me, hand raising as he shakes his head. "You can't tell me you aren't a brat and then demand something. That's so contradicting."
"I'll do what I want, like search your room until I find it." His movements halt.
"No, you won't."
"And why do you think that?"
"Because I won't let you." He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Aha, so you do have it." My finger points at him
"Or, I don't want some bratty kid invading my stuff." I close the door quietly and walk up to the now sitting man. He looks at me, annoyed almost.
"You can't stop me and frankly, I don't care if you'd prefer I didn't look around." He stands, now becoming taller than me and staring down at me.
"I can't stop you?" I nod firmly. "Lets test that theory, shall we." He picks me up, throws me over his shoulder and walks to the door. He tries to start setting me down but I wrap my legs around his waist so I won't move. "Really?" I hold onto both of his shoulders and look him in the eyes.
"I'm not leaving until you let me search this room for that damn remote. I can't watch T.V. without it and you seriously cannot tell me you don't know where it is." He opens the door and attempts to look down the hall, then walks over to my room. When walking in my room, he shuts the door and walks over to my bed. I feel his hands on my legs and move up to my waist, my arms unintentionally loosen their hold, and then I'm being thrown onto my bed.
"Your theory was wrong," Alexander tells me once I'm safely fallen onto the sheets. He leaves my room and I scoff at his actions.
"He called me a brat mom," I tell her while we're planning what to make for dinner.
"Why?"
"I don't know because I stood up to him and called him out."
"Why?" She repeats.
"He took the remote and hid it so I couldn't watch T.V."
"This is all because of the television, are you serious?"
"No, it's because he sucks."
"I want you to go get dressed and meet back down here. Go."
I spent five minutes upstairs changing into something nice before I came downstairs to see every member of the household standing in the living room. "Gross, why are you here?" I say to Alexander.
"You're such a loving person," he says back to me. "We're going for a drive."
"Um, no thanks, I think I'll stay here."
"You don't get a choice." I stand in front of him and scoff.
"You don't get to decide what I do," I tell him sweetly.
"It's what your mother wants." I look over to her, letting out a sigh then bring my attention back to him.
"That doesn't mean I'm going to do it."
"All right, I was hoping I wasn't going to have to do this but, here we go." He does the same action as earlier when I told him I wouldn't leave until I found the remote.
"Let me down," I yell at his back, pounding on it with my fists. When I feel him put his hands on my rear end, I whack him one last time. "Get your hands off of me. I'm tired of you putting your hands on me." My feet land on the sidewalk and I look him in the eyes.
"I was getting you down. Do you honestly think I'd touch any part of you like that on purpose while your parents could look out the window at any given moment? I'm a little smarter than that."
"I suppose not." I give him the knowledge of my agreeance.
"Exactly, now get in the car." He demands, opening the passenger door for me. I stand in place, glaring at him with my arms crossed. "Do it for your mother." He says, pushing me into the car and closing the door on me.
"You're relentless," I tell him once he gets in the driver's seat and begins driving with no known destination.
"Your attitude makes me want to bang my head into a wall." He says, keeping his eyes trained on the road.
"My head makes me want to hit mine against a wall," I mumble.
"Don't mumble, I can't stand mumbling."
"Wonderful, so I'll do it more often."
"You irritate me excessively."
"Good."
We stop off at a grocery store, I bet the same one that old lady hit on him, so we could get some supplies for dinner. I stop and look at the juices and it was insane how I could feel him watching me. "Do you want to explain to me why you feel the need to act this way?" He asks me.
"No, that's not exactly on my to-do list." I kept my eyes focused on the types of juices on the shelves. There are so many different kinds, who came up with them all and why would I want to be best friends with them.
"Not even a little bit because I'd really like to know?" He continues, not moving from his spot.
"No."
"Evelyn." I see my best friend run up and hug me so quickly that I almost fell over. "Did you have time to finish your half of the project? If you didn't that's fine, I can just get it done for you."
"No, that's fine, I finished it and I'll be bringing it to school tomorrow."
"Great." She looks over at Alexander and points. "Who in God's name is this?"
"Family friend." Her eyes widen, mouth goes in an 'O' shape and I know she knows exactly who this is.
"He's cute." She says as if I don't already know.
"Please don't inflate his ego, his head is big enough already." I request her but she only smiles and shakes her head.
"Oh come on Evelyn. If the girl thinks I'm cute, just let it happen." His arm falls around my shoulders. She watches the two of us and winks at me.
"I'll see you tomorrow, have fun." Her smirk is evident as she walks off. Oh my God. If I know anything about her and what goes on in her head, she was implying something that I want to throw up just thinking about. I could never, ever, do anything close to that with him. It's disgusting, truly.
Continuing on with the trend of the day, I follow Alexander into his room before I open my mouth to speak even though we're the only ones home right now. "Can we not be seen in public together, please? I don't need people thinking something of nothing."
"Oh?" He seemed amused as he stood there with a smug look on his face.
"Yes oh." I imitate his deep voice. "I don't need everyone thinking or assuming I'm getting with you or trying to for that matter, especially with everything happening at school. There is nothing going on between us yet apparently being seen with you is making others think differently."
"Well, it shouldn't bother you." I face him and he steps closer, filling the gap between us. "Because like you said, there's nothing going on between us. And I mean, I wouldn't want to be with someone like you anyways." Okay, ouch. I may have my problems but I can be a total catch. He has no idea so for him to say that sure lets me know where I stand on his scale.
"Oh please, I've probably got more substance than any of those bimbos that you've been with in the past." I fight back.
"Maybe I've been with some really intelligent women."
"Doubtful, very doubtful." I plonk myself on the desk chair and lightly scoff at him.
"Is it now."
"Yes because like my assessment of you goes, that includes a bunch of bimbos coming and going through your doors. Oh, sorry, I mean motel rooms."
"Why a motel, why not my house?"
"Because inviting the women as I've described into your home is a big no-no. You invite them over and they'll assume that you might feel something towards them other than what you're thinking and so she'll get all sentimental and thinking you're in it for the romance when all you want to do is fuck her brains out. So you resort to motels because a hotel is too nice and your house is off-limits. You must've learned this because you've either experienced it all before or you had someone teach you all the rules there is to know."
"You think you know all my tricks, hey?"
"I don't think I do, I know I do. I know what kind of a man you are."
"Well, sadly you'd be mistaken. Plenty of women have been to my house. I set ground rules beforehand so they know nothing comes of it besides what I'm looking for. And not bimbos, women from the office or women I pick up in stores or anywhere really." He stands in front of me and leans down, setting his hands on the armrests, his face inches away from mine and eyes searing into mine. "Sure I go to the motel sometimes but not more often than I fuck in my bed, on my couch, the kitchen counter, the shower, in the pool and the hot tub." My mouth becomes dry, my lips feeling cracked so I lick them and bite down on my bottom lip. His eyes dart down to the action, a short airy chuckle and a smirk playing on those plump lips. When his eyes meet mine again, I finally realize just how close our faces are. "Are you still sure about that or have you got a pretty good idea of what I do?"
"I um..." I shake myself out of it and get back on track. "I'm positive about it."
"You're difficult."
"Oh trust me, I know."