Who Is Lucas Ryker O'Riley?

60. WAITING ON LAUNDRY

Dave instantly jumped back up off the couch in a panic. "Mom and dad are home, sh*t!"

Of course, he didn't want mom and dad to see him dressed the way he was. He had to get to his room and get these things off, quick.

No sooner than he turned to rush upstairs, he fell again.

"F*ck, f*ck, sh*t . . . Oh sh*t, I twisted my ankle! Here, help me get upstairs," he frantically called out from the floor. "Hurry."

I placed my hands under his armpits and helped him stand up.

"Aaaaaaawwwww, " he cried out. "No, No, No, No."

"WHAT," I frantically responded.

Now I was panicking, too.

"I don't think I can walk on it."

I knew we only had seconds before our parents would be in the door. I had to think fast.

"Trust me," I told him as I put my head under his arm on the injured side and began helping him towards the kitchen.

"Where are we going? We need to get upstairs!"

Dave was now in a full blown melt down.

"No time to get you up the stairs."

I opened the back door with my free hand and heard the front door opening behind us as I shoved Dave outside and told him, "Get that stuff off and stash it in the gazebo tent. I'll toss you some clothes out the window . . . and don't ruin my shoes."

I saw him take a tumble onto the brick patio as I pushed the door shut behind him.

No sooner than I had closed the door, and took a couple steps back toward the living room, mom walked around the corner.

"Mom! You guys are home early. Why? I uh, I thought your flight wasn't till tomorrow?"

"It was, but your father got a call from work. They need him to fly to Austin tomorrow morning for a meeting. We had to get a flight home tonight so he could pack for tha-What did you do for your hair?"

I dropped my gaze to the floor. I knew what was coming. She was about to yell at me.

"What? You don't like it," I asked. "I thought you approved of it before? Beck said..."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," she explained as she moved over to me and ran her hands through it. "Not what I would have chosen. It's your head. I just wish you'd have waited and talked to me before you did something so . . ."

"Wonderful?" I offered.

"So drastic."

"Beck said she talked to you first and you approved."

"True, she did explain the color and that it was a pixie cut but I never imagined it would be this drastic, nor did I know so much of your head  would be shaved."

"So, you hate it?"

"No. I guess I can live with it, but your dad, now that's another story. He's never been a fan of short hair on me, or any other woman, for that matter, but then on you . . . It's hard to say. I'm pretty sure he's not--"

"I'm not what," asked a male voice from behind mom.

It was dad. He had overheard the last part of our conversation as he walked into the kitchen and could now see my hair.

"What did you do," he asked sternly.

"Well, dad. I got a hair cut. As if it wasn't obvious enough."