Believe Me, I'm Lying

:Believe Me, I'm Lying: 30

"Hello Harley, this is Sarah Goyle from Super Saver calling about your job application."

I froze, turning in the direction of the messaging machine. This was it, my latest try at a job...

We're sorry, but I'm afraid we are looking for someone a little older and more experienced for-"

With a sigh of impatience, I slammed the button down. "You said the exact same thing two months ago! You could at least change it up a bit," I muttered angrily, returning to sweeping the kitchen. "Geez."

"Pig! Pig!" Elliot cried from his room. "Olive and I are hungry!"

"Well then you and Olive can come out and get food by yourselves," I called back, rolling my eyes. "You aren't helpless."

A few moments later Oliver and Elliot appeared in the kitchen, Oliver smirking. "But you are," he said, responding to my earlier comment. "The phone rang earlier. Was it someone from somewhere?"

"Well obviously it was someone from somewhere, Oliver."

He gave me a sarcastic look. "Ha ha."

"It was Sarah Goyle from Super Saver calling me about my job application," I told him, mimicking Sarah's sickly sweet tone. "Apparently, I'm still too young."

"And your birthday isn't until February, right?"

"Right- hey, wait. How'd you know that?" I asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow. "I don't recall telling you that."

Oliver shrugged. "It was on your license."

"You remember from that long ago?"

"Obviously."

I made a face at him, once again resuming my sweeping. "When are you leaving?"

"Never!" Elliot chirped, clinging to Oliver's leg. "Olive can live with us."

I shook my head at Elliot. "No he can't, Eli."

"Technically I could," Oliver mused, "since I'm eighteen."

Elliot's eyes widened and he sucked in a large breath of air, looking like he was going to burst in excitement. I shot a hard look at Oliver, who was chuckling at Elliot's demeanor.

"Oliver's not living us with El," I told him.

He deflated like a balloon. His shoulders sagged, and he let out his breath, his face turning into a pout. "Why not?"

"What do you want to eat?" I asked him, ignoring his question. "Cereal?"

"No."

"A sandwich?"

"No."

"Pizza?"

"No."

I turned to give Elliot an annoyed look. "Then what do you want?"

"Whatever Olive wants."

"You do know his name is Oliver, right?" I inquired, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.

Elliot gave me a blank expression. "Olive is Olive..."

"I'm not very hungry," Oliver stated, crossing his arms.

"Then neither am I!"

I sent Oliver a meaningful look. He clicked his tongue. "Fine. I'm hungry."

"Me too!" Elliot cried excitedly.

"What do you want then?"

Oliver gave me a small smirk. "What do you have?" he drawled, leaning against the counter. "I'm picky."