3
Looking at the pink in his ears, I got an idea.
“Hungry?” I asked, with a smirk.
く
Chase looked away, his stomach grumbling
loudly, but he was too stubborn to admit it.
“Not your problem, is it?”
I played it cool. “If that’s what you want, then
I guess I’ll do nothing about it. I was going to
cook you some pasta.”
I flopped back on the sofa. A few minutes
later, Chase, looking like a wounded puppy,
came and sat opposite me.
“You said you were going to look after me?”
he started, like he was asking a favor.
“You’re getting paid for this, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “I asked you, but you said ‘no‘.”
Chase rubbed his hands, “Okay, I changed my
mind.”
Mrs. Thompson was right. Chase could handle
anything, except being hungry. He had been
like this since he was a kid. Being hungry was
worse than a punishment.
I rested my chin on my hand. “My rule is, if
you say ‘no‘, you miss out. So, if you want
food, beg me, why don’t you?”
Chase looked like he’d been insulted. He was
ready to storm out, when I changed things up.
“How about you call me ‘sis‘, and I’ll make
you some food?”
His eyelashes fluttered. He looked away,
cheeks turning red.
“You wish!” he spat.
Г
Oh well, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
But it was funny. I stood up and got to work
making him a bowl of egg noodles.
I put it in front of him, and he looked at me in
disbelief. “Eat it, and then clean your dishes,”
I told him, arms crossed. “Break any, and I’m
kicking your ass.”
Chase’s grateful expression turned to dread. “You’re a psycho…” he muttered.
I glared at him, “What was that?”
He went back to eating, saying nothing.
He was stubborn, but not impossible.
く
Everyone around him was probably from his
mother, trying to keep him happy and going
along with everything he wanted. No wonder
he was so out of control.
He’d been doing whatever he wanted, getting
into trouble, being love–sick and using his
resources to get girls whatever they wanted.
Mrs. Thompson, though tough, wanted to
keep the mother–son relationship from
deteriorating, and couldn’t bring herself to
hurt him.
But I was different. I would hurt him.
Sometimes, though, it wasn’t about violence.
He was…
Actually pretty easy to handle
