Babysitting the Bad Boy's Brother

Why do anything when u could just... not

"I can make your life a living hell. Destruction of property, vandalism, reckless driving, would you like me to continue?"

I see Alec visibly gulp, and it takes everything I have not to break out into a grin. It's times like these that really make me appreciate my badass father for pursuing a career in the police force. Alec looks to me for help and pleads with his eyes, clearly not wanting to go to court for a civil case.
I meet his silent pleas by crossing my arms and giving him a mocking a mirk.

"But," my dad continues, still radiating the aura of authority, "i'm not going to write you up for any of these things."
My smirk falters and my eyes dart to my fathers back, trying to use my telekinesis to change his mind as he keeps talking, "you're going to fix my yard. And you're going to do the goddamn best job possible."

Okay, I can live with this. I envision myself lounging on the couch and watching him put in actual labor and hard work for a change. Hell, maybe he'll even be shirtless.

Did I really just think that? I mentally hit myself for that thought. Disregard.

"And my daughter will help you."

This time my jaw actually hits the floor. "I'm sorry, what?"

My father turns his head to look at me. "You can help. You should get out of your room, and it wouldn't hurt to put in some labor. You could get some muscle on your bones in the process."

"My bones are fine." I whine like a child, resisting the urge to stomp my foot. "I can't stand him." I motion to Alec who is standing in our front doorway.

"You two better learn to get along then. Unless, of course, Alec here would like for me to press charges, which I have no problem doing."

I gape at him in disbelief. Then, our staring contest is interrupted by an extremely annoying voice. "That's fine by me, sir. I don't mind working with Claire."

I glare daggers at him and I swear my vision turns red for a moment. Deep breaths, Claire. Be calm. You are calm. We are calm. Everything is fine.

I turn on my heel and storm up to my room in a probably overly dramatic manner, but at this point I really could not care.

Fucking Alec Hirst. Somehow he manages to rope me into his punishment right along with him, when he was the idiot that thought doing cookies in the huge puddles would be a good idea. That is, until he spun out of control right into my front yard.

Damn my fucking luck.
I slam my bedroom door closed dramatically and do the first thing I always do when my emotions are running high.

I don't bother with Bach or Mendelssohn tonight. I don't have the will power nor the patience to play such lovely pieces at this point.

Tonight is a Paganini night. I play it with such aggression, it felt like my bow would snap in half right there. I play for myself. I play for my father. I play for Alec, even though I know he can't hear me. I play for the world, because I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

My anger soon dissipates and I find myself bringing the piece to a close. Am I still pissed as hell? Yes. Do I still feel like digging my claws into Alec Hirst's eyeballs? Eh. (Okay ya)

The clock on my wall says ten thirty, which means that I've barely been playing for twenty minutes. I don't have the energy to play for any longer, so I walk over to the window and look out onto my backyard. I am met with a clear sky, a rarity at this time of year. Not that you can see many stars here anyways.
I flop myself down onto my bed and groan at how annoying my father is. I mean, I guess helping Alec isn't the worst of circumstances...