Living With The Bad Boy

3) A Hormonal Pregnant Women

I need a plan. I need to embarrass Trent good to make sure he never messes with an Anderson again. Just as my brain was about to think of something, Sam bursts my bedroom door open. I'm surprised it didn't fall off.

"Why the hell are you hanging upside down?" he asked. Well hello to you too.

"It helps me think," I answered, keeping my why-the-fucknuggets-are-you-in-my-room face on.

He poked my side, I shifted a bit but didn't fall down. His eyes trailed up to my legs. He pushed them, hoping I would fall. I stayed perfectly still. Grunting in defeat, he fell on the floor next to me. Ha.

"Care to share?" he grunted, still mad that he couldn't make me fall. Someone's obsessed with their ego.

"No, but you can help," I offered. The think tension hasn't left, leaving me uncomfortable around his presence.

"If this is about a guy I'm leav-"

"What's the most important thing to Trent?" I interrupted, loving that he's so supportive about me dating a guy.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"You'll see very soon," I smirked, pulling my legs down on his lap just because I wanted to. Maybe he'll leave my room if I annoy him as well.

"The only thing that he cares about is sex, his reputation, and football. Don't forget about that so-called big dick of his. It's 6 feet tall and has disgusting blond hair."

"That's it!" I yelled. If he wants to embarrass me, his manhood and reputation is getting embarrassed first.

He cupped my mouth. "Shh, the babies are sleeping," he loudly whispered, tapping my cheek. I felt a couple tingles at the contact and pushed myself off of him.

"Luke's older," I grumbled. Being the middle child is basically stapling an invisible sign on your forehead. But we never get blamed for anything so that's okay.

"Whatever you're doing, watch out for the douche bag. I can't handle a crying girl in my house." For a second, I was touched that he cared. What a stupid toothless dingbat. The phrase doesn't make sense, just like him. I swear he's bipolar.

"You're worse than a hormonal pregnant woman," I deadpanned, slapping his shoulder.

"Did you just compare me to a pregnant woman?" he quirked an eyebrow. "Baby this all muscle."

"Sure it is," I replied sarcastically. See, bipolar. Changes moods faster than a baby.

He quickly straddled me, probably had a lot of practice. "Admit it, I'm sexy."

"Never," I replied. "Your head is inflated enough, a little more and you'll go poof. Lena and Drew wouldn't like that. I, on the other hand, wouldn't mind a cleaner bathroom."

He looked at me, his expression blank. He should really move up, his hard on is very close to my no-no place. Grinning, he leaned in very close to my face. I could feel my heart jumping out of my chest. Jeez, what the hell is he doing to me?

Before he could say anything, a very cranky Luke came barging in. Do these people not know how to knock? It's very simple. You lift your fist and tap the door. The person opens the door for you. Very simple.

"Whoa dude, why the hell are you having sex with my sister, she's underaged. Aren't your clothes supposed to off? And there's a bed right there." Nice to know he cared.

"Seriously?!" I yelled. "You wouldn't even let Josh touch my hand and you're fine with this?"

"Meh, I never liked Josh. Neither did Beth. You're at fault for not listening." He's lucky I don't care that much anymore. That's insensitive even for him.