We hate eachother.

Sarah was not happy.

Our parents had just gotten married, and now they were going on a one-month vacation. That meant I had to stay at my step-dad’s house.

With Ethan.

The most annoying person I had ever met.

We didn’t even know each other well, but after a huge fight at our parents’ wedding, we started to hate each other. Now I had to live under the same roof as him.

Ethan was three years older than me, so our parents told him to “take care of me.”

They also said I was a troublemaker.

Which was not wrong.

I was packing in my dorm when my mom called.

“Please let me stay here,” I begged.

“No,” she said. “You’ll only cause trouble.”

So here I was.

After packing, I changed into baggy green pants and a maroon oversized tee with a leather jacket and headed to the house.

I knocked on the door.

“Open the door, Ethan.”

He opened it slowly, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His eyes were cold.

“What?” he snapped.

I walked past him, my shoulder brushing his.

“Aww, why are you sad, dumbo?” I said.

I dropped my bag on the floor and sat on the couch—shoes still on.

He rubbed his face. “Did you remove your damn shoes?”

“No.”

“Are you crazy? Take them off before I make you.”

“Why? I don’t take them off in my house.”

“This is not your house!” he yelled.

“This is also my house! You think I want to be here with you?” I yelled back.

“Shut up!” he shouted.

I flinched.

“I don’t want this either,” he said. “But Dad forced me to take care of you. I’m older, so follow the rules. Shoes. Now.”

I sighed and took them off.

“I already hate this,” I muttered.

“Oh, trust me,” he said, “I hate this too.”

My step-dad called. Ethan put it on speaker.

“Did she arrive?” Dad asked.

“Yes,” Ethan replied.

“You’re older. Take care of her,” Dad said. “If she gets in trouble, you’re responsible.”

“Got it,” Ethan said.

The call ended.

“So?” he asked. “You heard him.”

“I know. You’re supposed to look after me,” I said.

“Then don’t make it hard.”

I stayed quiet.

“I’m going out with my friends,” he said, and left.

I groaned and went upstairs. In my bathroom, I found a love letter on the counter.

To Ethan — Love, Olivia.

I smirked and shoved it into my jacket pocket.

Then I changed into a baggy black tee, grey pants, and my leather jacket.

This month was going to be hell.