Canyon Moon | H.S.

Adjustments (7)

"No, that doesn't add up." I mumble to myself, sitting at the kitchen table, my phone and a notepad full of charts and figures in front of me.

It's been almost another week, and now it's Friday afternoon. The week passed surprisingly quickly. With the weather staying nice, I sat outside as much as possible, and whenever they weren't working, the boys joined me too.

Sunday morning Harry and I went back to acting as if nothing happened, except the occasional smirk here and there, and I decided that I rather like this game. All of the boys make it so easy to feel comfortable around them, but if I'm being honest, I've missed having someone to just harmlessly flirt with, and it seems like he gets a good kick out of it too.

As for what I'm doing at the kitchen table? Horrible boring stuff - budgeting. My car needs to get a part replaced, to be honest it has for a while I've just been putting it off, but the garage called me to tell me that it's getting more urgent, and that if I want to keep the car running I need to get this bit fixed. Except it's rather an expensive thing to get fixed.

I can hear voices as the boys come out of their studio, but my head's a jumble of numbers and figures.

"Natalie."

"Natalie!"

"Huh?" I answer, not hearing my name the first time.

Harry's standing next to me, peering at the stuff on the table, which I subtly try to cover with my arm.

"What are you doing?" He asks innocently.

"Budgeting," I answer truthfully, "my car needs to go in for a service and stuff and I'm just having a bit of trouble figuring out where to take the money from. I reckon I'll just have to wait until next month to restock on art supplies, that plus my savings should probably cover it..." I trail off, mumbling to myself.

"Then you'd go a month without the art stuff you need." He replied.

"Yeah, but my art supplies aren't a need, they're an extra."

"But you paint all the time, so it's pretty important-"

"It's not that easy,"  I say, starting feel a little bit embarrassed at having this conversation with him, "obviously things like groceries have to come first and-"

"Wait, what groceries?"

"What do you mean, what groceries? The ones I go out and get every week, the stuff we eat."

"You're buying them yourself?" He asks indignantly.

"Yeah, it's part of my contract. Since I don't have to pay for accommodation or anything, the cost of food comes out of my wages."

"That's ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous," I reply, feeling antsy, "it's just part of it, it's fine. I just need to spend less on art stuff this month and then I'm all covered."

I close my notebook, feeling uncomfortable now. I don't really want to sit and talk money or explain myself to someone who probably has a net worth of millions of dollars.

"You shouldn't have to pay for groceries. There's five of us and we eat a lot, that's not fair on you. We can pay you for that."

"Really, it's fine -"

"It's not fine, you shouldn't have to -"

"It's not a problem, okay? It's just part of the job! I don't need you telling me how to manage my money thanks, I'm not a child!" I spit, rather more loudly than I meant to.

He looks taken aback so I grab my stuff and leave the kitchen.

I don't care about money. I really don't. I have enough to cover everything I need, I'm not wanting for anything. I knew when I took the job offer that this would be part of it, I do not need to be babied.