I have to babysit her? Are you kidding me? She’s eighteen, for crying out loud. Practically an adult. How is this my problem? I slumped against the doorway, arms crossed and scowling at nothing in particular. This whole situation was beyond ridiculous. Babysitting. Her. I rolled my eyes so hard it felt like they might stay stuck in the back of my head.

“This is so dumb,” I muttered under my breath, seething. “I swear to go—” My train of thought was derailed as I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned, startled, to see her standing there, looking at me with those eyes. “What do you want?” I growled, my tone sharper than I intended. The annoyance bubbling inside of me spilled over into every word. “It better not be stupid.”

She flinched slightly, her gaze darting away for a moment, and I immediately felt a pang of guilt—just a small one, though. Not enough to stop me from rolling my eyes again. I turned and walked into the living room without waiting for her to respond. Let her figure it out.

I flopped onto the couch, leaning back and crossing my arms, still fuming about how absurd this whole thing was. Babysit. What was I supposed to do? Read her bedtime stories? She didn’t even look like she needed someone watching over her. Probably just some excuse to dump her on me so someone else could avoid dealing with her.

Grabbing the remote, I clicked through channels lazily until I landed on a random show. I wasn’t even paying attention to what it was. My mind was too preoccupied with my irritation. Turning my head slightly, I looked back at her, still standing there, awakwardly.

“Well?” I said, my voice dripping with impatience. “What did you need?” My tone was calmer now but no less annoyed. If she wanted something, she better say it fast—I wasn’t in the mood for games.