Chapter 8: Babysitting Philip...and Thomas

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     Y/N's POV

   After calming down an enraged Thomas, I opened the door that led to relaxation and paradise.

   My mansion.

   I could almost taste the desire I had to flop onto the couch, and that's exactly what I did. The comfort surrounded my body and pulled me in. My dad wasn't home, so I could fully relax.

   Knock knock.

   I groaned. Why couldn't anyone just leave me alone for one day?!

   A pained expression on my face, I slowly got up as the knocks began to sound more frantic. I figured it was Thomas, and he knew me well enough to know that I take relaxation very seriously.

   I opened the door, indignation evident on my face. "Thomas, I told you--Alexander?"

   A very frazzled looking Alex was waiting for me, Philip standing in front of him, smiling at me. "Hello, Miss. Washington!" Philip grinned.

   I waved at Philip, afterwards looking at Alexander. "What's up, Alex?"

   He basically shoved a seven-year-old into my house without permission. "Y/N, I'm really desperate right now and I need you to take Philip! Thanks!" he said. Except he said it really fast, so it all came out as one word. Then Alex walked away, leaving me with a rambunctious child.

Philip looked at me, an innocent grin on his face. "You're really pretty."

I chuckled and ruffled the freckled boy's hair. "Sweet talker, aren't ya?" I said to no one in particular.

Philip let out this really cute giggle and walked inside, me following him.

When we got inside, Philip asked for a snack. Ya know, like all first graders do.

"Miss. Washington?" he asked, his voice high and adorable.

"Yes?"

"Can I have some food? If it's not a bother..."

"Oh, not at all!" I waved the little boy off. We went into the kitchen, me getting Philip some crackers and making him some fresh grape juice.

"Ooh!" Philip smiled as I gave him his treat, sitting down. "This looks delicious! Thanks, Miss. Washington!"

"Philip, you know better. Call me Y/N, okay, hun?"

He nodded, taking a bite of his cracker.

After a bit of semi-awkward silence, I asked, "How is it?"

Without hesitation, Philip replied with, "Oh, it's the best, Y/N! You make really good crackers! What's your secret?"

I laughed, sitting next to him. "It's something I like to call going to the market and buying crackers."

We shared a laugh.

But, I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that me and the youngster were being watched.

The feeling made the hairs on my neck stand. So I turned to look towards the front door, which was fairly close to the kitchen.

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