Mr. Superficial (BWWM)

Chapter 3

A/N This chapter is dedicated to everyone who liked, commented, voted or read my book so far. I know it's still a new book and has a long way to go, but you guys just make me want to write it more and more. Thanks!
There's a pic of his step brother Dexter on the side, too cute! (';

'Landy.'

'Landyy!'

I slowly open my eyes and realize I'm in my king sized bed. How long have I been out for?

I sit up and see my little brother beside my bed, dressed in his dragon pajamas and holding his teddybear, Landon. Yes, he did name his bear after me. He says it comforts him at night when he's having a bad dream because it reminds him of me.

'What's up, Dex?' I ask him, groggily. I haven't even showered since coming home and my knees are killing me.

'I had a nightmare again,' he whispers. His big blue eyes are red and filled with so much fear.

I sigh heavily. I hate seeing him in this state.

'Where's Daria? Isn't she meant to be here looking after you?' I ask, confused.

Daria is Dexter's babysitter but I haven't seen her around much.

'She left,' he says crying.

Left?

'She was talking on the phone to someone and then I think she left when I was sleeping,' he sobs softly.

I'm angry. I feel my knuckles tense and my hands ball up into fists. Of course my parents would hire a lazy teenager as my little brother's baby sitter while they're out on their endless business endeavors! I mean, I thought they just didn't care about me, but Dexter too? He is the most innocent little boy in the universe.

I mask my rage for Dexter's sake. I don't want him to be scared again. I want to be there for him.

'Well, do you wanna stay in my bed?' I ask while crouching down and scooping him in my arms. He just nods and stops crying.

'Stay here. I'm gonna go shower real quick and then I'll come back with your warm milk.'

He nods again and I place him under the covers of my bed, wrapping him tightly in the warmth.

I tiptoe out of my room and make my way to the bathroom on the bottom floor. I have an ensuite, but I don't want to scare Dexter with the noise it makes. He's a really sensitive kid.

I walk into the white tiled bathroom and see my own reflection. It looks like I got hit with a bus, literally.

My dark brown hair is all messy and tousled, not in an attractive way either. My face is sheet-white and my usually sparkling grey eyes are red and bloodshot. I take off my jeans to take a look at my knees. They aren't as bad as I thought; there's no purple bruising or puffiness which is good, but man did they kill.

I hop into the shower and have a good rinse for a few minutes before cleaning my wounds with antiseptic wipes and bandaging them up. It was painful, but I feel a lot better now.

I get dressed into a plain white shirt and baggy pajama pants before brushing my dense hair.

After that, I walk downstairs to the massive kitchen. It's bright with an array of white fluorescent lights on the ceiling reflecting off the polished black marble benches. The small appliances are arranged nicely to one side of the bench and next to the glass vase of roses, a fruit bowl with every fruit you could imagine was placed at the centre. There are also little reminders here and there on the fridge, making it seem like the kitchen was an organized and functional environment.