Forged [1]

Such A Sass

⚪Seth's P.O.V.⚪

It had been hours and hours of packing, but we'd gotten my room, my mom's room, and most of Lily's room packed.

I kept taking Lily's shirts out of the closet, folding them and putting them in a box. I put her favorites in a different pile, so she'd have something to wear.

I looked over at Riley, who was carefully wrapping ceramic figurines in newspaper and putting them in a box by his feet. When I turned away again, I felt his eyes on my back. Probably because I didn't bother to put a shirt on. He'd taken his off too.

I heard the front door open and close before glancing at the clock. Lily was home.

"Is she going to be mad at us for being in her room?" Riley asked.

"Probably. She's such a sass."

"So I've seen," he laughed, wrapping a ceramic cat in newspaper and setting it in the box.

I heard Lily walk up the stairs, seconds before I saw her walk in the door.

"What're you doing?!" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Packing," I said nonchalantly.

"I never said you could pack my room!"

"I never asked," I laughed. She was trying to intimidate me, but she was so much smaller.

"Mom!" She called, "Riley and Seth are packing my room! And they aren't wearing shirts!"

"Seth!" My mom called from downstairs. "I told you to put a shirt on!"

"It's too warm!" I laughed. That was true, it was almost 90° that day.

"No one wants to see all your fat," Lily said, throwing a punch as hard as she could at my abs. 'As hard as she could' wasn't very hard.

"Fat?" I laughed. "This is muscle."

"Bleh," she sassed, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Go away," I said, taking more of her shirts out of the closet and folding them.

"You can't make me leave my own room."

"Mom!" I called. "Tell Lily to quit bugging us!"

"Lily! Get down here!" My mom called from downstairs.

"Bye," I snickered. She punched me again before storming out of the room.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Riley laughed.

"Nah," I grinned, "she's not strong. It won't even bruise." I set the folded shirts in the box, finally filling it to the brim. I closed it, then taped it shut with packing tape.

Riley finished off his box too, setting down the last paper-wrapped ceramic and taping his box shut.

"Want to go get something to drink?" I asked. "I bet there's lemonade in the fridge."

"Sounds good," he said, scribbling 'ceramics' onto the box with a Sharpie. Maybe 'scribble' wasn't the right word, he had really neat cursive handwriting.

"Let's go," I said, walking out of the room, Riley following right behind me.