The Babysitters

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Guilt

When I was three years old, a boy in my neighborhood had a crush on me. One day, he bought me muffins to eat. When my dad came to know about it, he was so furious that he made a crime report in the local FBI against him for ‘poisoning his daughter.’

Since that day, American police has stopped taking my family seriously.

And, did I mention that the boy and his family were so dashed by this that they changed their house the next day?

This incident is one of the reasons why I hate talking about boys to my dad. Still, here we are discussing Trystan.

“So, you share this job with a boy who is of your age?” Dad narrowed his eyes.

“Yes dad,” I sighed.

“Nope. Not at all,” he stated sternly, “I cannot risk my daughter doing a job with a guy who is young and definitely has no control over his hormones.”

“And, how do you know that?” this time, I narrowed my eyes.

“I was a young boy too. Well, I am still young but no more a boy,” he stated proudly.

“Firstly, you are 45 dad, you are no more young. And secondly, I am a black belt. So you don’t need to worry about Trystan’s hormones,” I rolled my eyes.

“OK, I am totally going to ignore the part where you implied me being old,” he muttered.

“Um, can I continue the job then?” I asked with a pout.

“You can, if you give me one strong reason about why do you actually need a job?” he raised his brows.

I sighed. It’s hard to put the reason in words. What should I say? I want to get away from the demons of my past? I need a distraction? I don’t want to face my own mother? It was just too hard to explain.

So, I remained silent.

“Fine,” Dad took a deep breathe, “You can do the job. But if that Troy tries to make a move on you, remind him that I have a revolver.”

“Thank you, daddy boo,” I squeezed him in a hug, and rushed out of the house to reach Dylan’s place.

“By the way, his name is Trystan,” I shouted, before closing the door behind me.

I could imagine dad giving a ‘Like I care’ look.

Dylan lives three blocks away from my house, so I decided to have a walk. It took me fifteen minutes to reach my destination.

The first thing I heard as I reached there was a high pitched cry.

“C’mon, she made you the same thing,” Trystan whined, not aware of my presence.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, walking towards Trystan and Tiffany.

“Here you are,” he took a deep sigh of relief as soon as he saw me.

“I don’t know. She has been crying since forever. I even made lukewarm milk for her, just like you did,” Trystan pouted.

I took Tiffany from his hand and wrapped her in her blanket. She immediately stopped crying.

“Shh.. get some sleep, mollycoddle,” I cooed, slowly patting her chest.

“She was feeling sleepy,” I told Trystan, who was looking at me with amusement.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“I took baby classes in my junior year,” I shrugged off and started looking around for a familiar uni boy.

“Lover boy is at work,” Trystan said, coldly.

“Uh, okay,” I started playing with the hem of my top.

“I think she is asleep,” Trystan pointed at Tiffany, who was sleeping peacefully in my arms.

“Really? I thought she was playing hide and seek,” I rolled my eyes. He chuckled.

“Sarcas-” Trystan was cut off by the ringing of my phone.

It was a call from Jenny.

“SAMANTHA HARRIS, I HAVE GOT TWENTY FIVE REQUESTS FROM PEOPLE I NEVER TALK, TO ORDER A COPY OF MY SATAN ROMANCE STORY,” Jenny yelled as soon as I picked the phone. I immediately pulled it away from my ears, and gave Trystan a sorry look.

He nodded and took Tiffany from my arms.

“Calm down, Jenny. We’ll sort it out,” I whispered.

“Oh, and did I tell you, Gabby actually created a fan page of my novel on Facebook. A FREAKING FAN PAGE OF A NOVEL WHICH DOES NOT EXIST,” she yelled, once again.

I groaned when I saw Trystan giving me a suspicious look from the kitchen.

“Jenny, please stop shouting. I am with Trystan right now,” I pleaded.

“Oooh, are they on a date?” I heard Gabby’s fainted voice from the other side.

“Basically it’s her fault,” I huffed, talking about Gabby, “She started it with that stupid ship name.”

“SATAN is not stupid,” Gabby’s fainted voice protested.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m friends with you two,” Jenny muttered, before ending the call.

I took a deep sigh and turned around, only to come face to face with Trystan’s bare chest.

Uh, wait. Did I say bare?

“AAAAAAA!” I shouted, and kicked his manhood with all the strength that I had.

Trystan groaned in pain. Shortly, he was on the ground, holding his little self.

“DAD WAS SO RIGHT ABOUT YOUR HORMONES,” I cried, and kicked his left leg.

“Sunshine, stop with the violence,” he groaned.

I was about to punch him when he took my hand and pulled me towards him. I lost my balance and landed over him, on the ground.

“Easy there, tiger,” he said, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Where is your shirt?” I asked, attempting to sound rude. But my voice came out as a whisper.

“I spilled coffee on it,” he smiled.

“Oh,” It was all that managed to come out of my mouth.

We exchanged no words for a minute. He was looking at me, and I was trying my level best to avoid his eyes.

Lying on top of a guy is a different thing. But, lying on top of a shirtless guy, who is hotter than any Calvin Klein model, is a whole lot different.

“If you are done staring at my abs, we can get up, right?” Trystan teased, and I immediately pushed myself up.

“Though, I kind of liked that position,” he smirked, getting up from the floor.

“You must have a lot of courage to still flirt with the girl who broke your family jewels a minute ago,” I smirked back.

“Talking about that, it will be your fault if we never had a baby to complete our family,” he pouted, and I made a disgusted face in response.

“Who is having a baby?” a new voice joined our conversation.

I turned at the direction of the voice. Standing at the door was someone whom I never expected to see at Dylan’s place.

Britney Cooper.

People at Westport know her as the Queen-Bee, the head cheerleader, and Trystan’s on and off girlfriend.

But I know her more than that. She is not just a queen bee to me, but part of the reason why I still feel guilty about the things that happened.

“You didn’t tell me. Who is having a baby?” she walked towards Trystan, totally avoiding my presence.

“What are you doing here, Brits?” Trystan asked, annoyance visible in his voice.

“I was missing you so much that I could not bear even a minute away from you,” she pecked his lips. I so wanted to throw up at the moment.

“I was, anyway, coming at your place tonight,” he sighed.

She ignored him and started straying her hands on his bare chest, giggling every now and then.

I decided to leave them alone, and went in the kitchen to prepare something for Tiffany.

I was in the middle of making lactogen, when I heard footsteps behind me.

“What are you doing in the kitchen? Shouldn’t you accompany your girlfriend?” I asked softly.

I know it’s weird how I recognize his footsteps.

“She is not my girlfriend,” Trystan said, helping me with the food.

“Why did you leave?” he asked me.

“No reason,” I frowned.

“She is totally in the mood to rip my shirt off. I think I need to appoint you as my bodyguard. Protect me, my hero,” he said the last part in a girly voice, earning a heartfelt laugh from me.

“You are not wearing a shirt,” I said, still laughing. Once the realization dawned upon him, he too joined my laughter.

“Baby, I was waiting for you. And here you are, laughing with her,” Britney entered the kitchen, and looked at me with disdain.

“We were just preparing food for Tiffany, babe,” Trystan rolled his eyes.

“Stay away from him, Samantha. You already took the closest person away from me. At least, leave him now,” she said, taking Trystan’s hand in hers.

He looked at her in confusion.

“I never wanted it to end up like that, Britney,” I mumbled, looking at the ground.

“Yeah right,” she scoffed, “Look at you, Samantha. Your eyes still scream of guilt. Even you know it was your fault.”

“No, it was not. I did nothing, okay?” I shouted, at the verge of crying.

“I just took her to the lake,” I barely whispered the last part. And, when the reality of my words hit me hard, I picked up my phone from the kitchen counter and ran away.

I took her to the lake.

It happened because I took her to the lake.

Of course, it was my fault.

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