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After a genuine smile at her husband, my mom hands me the bill to give Khaos.
“Fifty?” I ask, my voice finally penetrating whatever barrier was blocking it.
“Is that enough?”
“I…don’t know.” I’m not sure how much stuff like that costs. I just buy whatever I want. But fifty sounds like a lot for a thong.
I walk it over to Khaos, rubbing my thumb over Ulysses S. Grant’s shoulder, making sure I can actually feel the bumps on his jacket. This isn’t a nightmare. It is but it’s… It’s a real-life nightmare. My new stepbrother not only handled my worn—possibly dirty—underwear but now he’s responsible for buying me a new pair.
I should’ve stayed silent.
Khaos puts his hand out, palm up.
“You don’t need to know what size?”
He looks me up and down, plucks the fifty from my hold, then says, “No.”
He stole it. He stole my thong. How else would he know my size?
This is no family. This is a joke.
Much like the amount of food Khaos shovels into his mouth…if I felt like laughing. I just want out of whatever circus this is.
“I’m off to school.”
“Not before changing your shirt, right?” my mom calls after me.
“Right,” I mutter before going straight out the front door, zero stops along the way.
I’m pulling around the circular driveway when Khaos appears, walking slowly but intentionally. Toward me.
I know he’s not here to wave me off so… What’s he doing?
Hoodie now in his hand, he motions for me to stop with the other.
I do, only for him to rudely point down.
“What?” I snap after lowering the driver’s window.
“Your mom wants me to give this to you.” He holds the hoodie—his hoodie—out for me.
“I’m not wearing that.”
“I can’t go back in there with it or she’ll know you didn’t wear it and I’ve heard enough of her bitching today.”
“I’m not wearing it.”
“You’re wearing it.”
“No, I’m not, Khaos. God, I have a boyfriend.”
“So?”
“So, he’ll go crazy if I show up wearing another man’s hoodie.”
“What does that mean? What will he do to you?”
“It’s not me you should be worried about.”
