My Life With the Walter Boys

Dinner had been a disaster, and it was entirely my fault. After George and Katherine calmed down the mayhem, everyone was given a job to clean up the mess. That was, everyone except me. Katherine apologized profusely for her sons’ behavior, and sent me off to clean myself up even, though I pleaded to help.

 

Turning off the hot water, I stepped out of the shower. It felt good to wash off the chlorine from the pool and the spaghetti from dinner, but no amount of shower time would ease the dread that was swirling around in my stomach. To add to my discomfort, a stab of irritation shot through me when I spotted my shirt on the floor, covered in sauce. Cole had been right—now it was completely ruined. I was already making a mess of living with the Walters, as I could tell from the way most of the boys threw me dirty looks when I left the kitchen.

 

As I wrapped a towel around myself, I wished I’d worn flip-flops to the bathroom. The floor was a minefield littered with dirty boxers and used tissues that had missed the garbage, not to mention that tile looked like it hadn’t been scrubbed since the Walters moved into the house.

 

I also had to be extra careful not to lean against the counter as I washed my face. Globs of toothpaste speckled it like bird poop, along with pieces of hair and bright blue shaving cream. Most of the boys tossed their toothbrushes next to the sink, as if the damp countertop wasn’t a cesspool of mystery toxins. There was no way I’d be keeping mine in here.

 

Pulling back the door, I poked my head out into the hallway to make sure no one was around. I didn’t want any of the boys to see me in a towel. Next time I showered, I’d remember to bring my clothes with me. As I crept back to my room, I imagined this was how a wild teenager felt as he or she carefully slunk out of the house in the middle of the night. I myself had never done anything that crazy.

 

I successfully reached my new room without encountering one of the boys and slipped inside, sighing with relief.

 

“Nice towel, Jackie.”

 

“Oh!” I squeaked, almost dropping the fluffy fabric when I spotted Cole sitting on my bed. He was still covered in tomato sauce, but was eating out of a takeout Chinese carton. Two more steaming cartons were sitting on the desk waiting to be eaten. A smile eased across his face as he looked me up and down.

 

My face flushed as red as the stains on his shirt, and I yanked the towel tighter around my figure. “What in the world are you doing in my room?”

 

“Dinner. Want some?” he asked, holding up the carton of food.

 

“Yes, but can you please leave?” I asked, mortified that this was actually happening. “I need to change.”

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll close my eyes.”

 

“I’m not changing with you in the room.”

 

“That’s fine. I won’t mind if you eat in the towel.”

 

“Cole, get out!” I finally snapped.

 

“Damn, woman, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” He got up from the bed, springs squeaking, and set his food next to the other cartons. “Although, that’s not really possible right now, is it?” Cole chuckled to himself as he stepped outside. I slammed the door behind him and turned the lock for good measure.

 

After quickly pulling on a pair of pajamas, I unlocked the door and let Cole back inside. He brushed passed me and flopped down on the bed before grabbing his takeout. I flinched as he shoveled a bite into his mouth. I never ate in my bedroom. It was unsanitary.

 

Once he noticed me watching him, Cole stopped chewing. “What?” he asked, his mouth full.

 

“Do you have to eat on the bed?”

 

“Why, you wanna do something else on the bed?”

 

“No, Cole,” I said, trying my best to ignore the comment. “I just don’t want food in it. I have to sleep there.”

 

“A few pieces of rice gonna keep you awake, princess?” Cole glanced around the room. “Besides, where else will we sit?”

 

Of course, he was right. My suitcases were taking up all of the floor space, and Katherine’s art supplies occupied everywhere else. And there was no way I was going back to the kitchen to eat. Cautiously, I sat down on the edge of the bed and he handed me some chopsticks. For the next few minutes we sat in silence eating sweet chicken, and surprisingly it was peaceful sitting with Cole. But when the food disappeared, he ruined one of the only relaxing moments I’d had since arriving in Colorado.

 

“I enjoyed the dinner show tonight,” he said, setting an empty container down. I turned away from him and halfheartedly poked at a piece of broccoli. Cole laughed. “Come on, Jackie. It was just a joke. To be honest, that stuff happens all the time in this house.”

 

Putting my food aside, I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at Cole. “Really?” I questioned.

 

“Well, it’s not always that dramatic, but at least tonight was funny. You should’ve seen the look on your face when you pulled Rumple out.” He let out a wholehearted laugh again.

 

“Rumple?” I asked in confusion.

 

Cole stretched and scooted closer. “Rumplesnakeskin. He’s Jordan’s snake.”

 

“Any other dangerous pets I should know about?” I grumbled.

 

“Nope,” he said with a laugh. “Just Isaac.”