There's A Jock in My Bed! [✓]

2. Fresh Meat and Rotten Romance.

I am currently editing this chapter for mistakes. 

24 Hours Earlier...

"Evan, breakfast is almost ready. Get your lard ass down here!”

“I’m coming.” I shouted back from upstairs in my room. “Damn, I’m Hot.” I muttered jokingly to myself, taking one last long glance in the mirror.

“Evan Joseph Harris, get down here now!” Mom's stern voice called, practically echoing through the entire house; or at least loud enough to reach my room.

“Coming.” I carefully replied, not wanting  to sound annoyed and get the horns. I grabbed my backpack and ran down the stairs into the kitchen where the females of my household were lounging; or more so Evelyn. 

Mom was at the stove making something that smelled hypnotizing-ly amazing. “What have you been doing up there all is time?”

I looked over at my mom as I flopped into one of the chairs at the table.  “Getting ready for school.” I responded matter-of-factly; as if the answer was too obvious to even respond to her.  

Mom looked back to roll her eyes but spun back before anything caught fire and we had to move...again. I took the moment to look to my left and glance at Evelyn.

She was wearing a low cut t-shirt with a short, pink mini skirt and I could not help but shiver, "Any particular reason you’re dressed like a two dollar hooker?”

Her jaw nearly came unhinged as the sharp breath of air escaped through her lips. “Mom, did you hear what Evan just said to me??” She demanded, outraged; her brown, chocolaty eyes bubbling with both embarrassment and shock. 

Oddly, Mom didn't enjoy my sniping remarks as much as I thought she would. She turned around, with her own pair of brown eyes squinted in my direction. “Evan, stop saying those kinds of things about your sister." She scolded before turning to look Evelyn over.

Her  'judgy' face had yet to leave. "And Ev dear, you do kind of look cheap.”

“Oh My God, my mother just called me a hooker!”

I snickered and rested my head on the counter. I was exhausted and rightfully so. The past few weeks of moving from home in Colorado to DC wasn't as thrilling as I had imagined.

Sarcasm.

The last thing I wanted to do after moving around a pile of heavy ass boxes was go to school. A New School. 

Wasn't moving me from everything I knew enough?

“I didn’t call you a hooker." Mom finally answered, "but you could go and change into something a little less revealing." she suggested, resting the plates of bacon and eggs on the table.

And, while usually I paced myself while eating, I couldn't possibly have stopped myself from digging into the food as soon as it arrived. Eating Ramen noodles for the passed six nights'll do that to a guy.

Mom backed rightfully - smartly- slowly, away and took off her mittens before sitting on the left hand side of me. "What’s so important about starting high school anyway?”

A strand of bacon was still hanging out of my mouth when my head snapped over to her.  “Everything.” Both me and Ev said in a strange unified response.

 Did she not know that freshman year at high school was akin to hell for teenagers? That those doors that led into that purgatory was worse than being doused with gasoline and being lit on fir?