I Spun the Bottle

I Spun the Bottle: Chapter One

          I frowned as I tried to think about what was wrong with him.

          I turned on my heels and entered the living room to find him watching television. It was on some type of commercial, and Landon seemed way too intrigued by it.

          “Hey,” I said, sitting on the couch. I felt as my whole body sink into the cool leather.

          “What?” He muttered, not bothering to look up from the telivision screen. He seriously was in a terrible mood.

          “What’s wrong? You seem…grumpy.”

          “I’m not grumpy. I’m just annoyed, now can you finish getting ready? I don’t want you complaining that I’m the one making you late,” he ordered, still in that grumpy tone.

          I rolled my eye, but did as he asked. He didn’t want to tell me what it was, but I’d get it out of him sooner or later. My brother and I always had a good relationship. Sure we’d have our arguments, but what kind of siblings got along all the time?

         I went back into my bathroom, and brushed my teeth. The whole time I kept thinking of a way to get whatever Landon was thinking about out of him. Normally, I would blow-dry my hair, but I was too lazy to do it. So, I’d let it air-dry today.

         Sighing, I walked back downstairs and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head towards me and frowned. “Are you done?”

          “Mhmm, let’s go?”

          “Alright,” he said, getting up from the couch.

          Landon was two years older than me, and he just graduated high school last year. He said he doesn’t want to go to college yet because he wants to take the year off. My parents doesn’t seem to mind, as long as he goes next year.

          “Hey, Landon?”

           “Yeah,” he answered, grabbing his car keys off the rack and twirling it around it finger.

         “Are you having girl problems?” I inquired, the only possibility popping into my head.

           He stopped twirling his keys around his finger for a split second before continuing towards the front door. That action to me signaled, yes.

          “No, what makes you think that?”

          Because you’re acting grumpier than Grumpy from Snow White.

          “Oh, no reason, you just seem to be quieter today.” I lied, not really wanting to tell him the truth.

          I closed the front door behind me as we exited our house. I trailed behind Landon until we got to his beat-up Chevy truck. His truck was old, rusted, and paint seemed to chip off every time you touched it, but even when mom offered to buy him a new car, Landon said he liked his car just the way it is.

          Once I got into the torn-up leather seat I pulled hard on the old, creaky door, trying to make it shut properly on the first time, but it didn’t work, so I had to re-do it. This time the door clicked properly.

          “Okay,” Landon sighed. “I am having girl problems. Why do they have to be so—so complicated?”

          I laughed at his reaction. I didn’t realize girls were the hard ones to figure out. Guys were the ones who always sent mixed signals, not that I would know much about them. I’ve never had a boyfriend in my enitire life.