I pull on my jeans before shuffling towards the kitchen. I flick on the drip pot and make us some coffee. I don’t expect her to be up anytime soon after last night, but when I hear soft footsteps down the stairs, I turn around.
She rounds into the kitchen, freshly showered and her hair parted into two thick braids. She’s wearing one of my old t-shirts, which she probably found stashed away in a drawer somewhere, and some black leggings.
“Oh, coffee!” She smiles before walking over and grabbing the mug I set on the counter for myself.
“You’re up early,” I mumble, pulling another cup down from the cabinet.
I pour us both a generous mug before she frowns at the dark liquid. “No sugar or creamer?”
I pull both of them down from a cabinet before sliding them to her, and watching as she concocts an elixir that eliminates the bitter taste altogether.
Three scoops of sugar and creamer, I take note.
“How are you up?” I ask.
“I was asleep for days. A few hours were good enough for me.” She takes a sip, humming softly at the flavor. “Besides, I want to be awake when you see what I’ve been working on.”
My brows lift over my mug. “What you’ve been working on?”
“Mhmm,” she stares at me, something playful in her eyes as we drink our coffee.
“I have a few reports this morning, but I’ll check it out as soon as I’m done.” I promise.
She’s unfazed by my answer as she pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and eases onto it. “Oh, you’ll notice it right away.”
I don’t like the way that sounds or how she’s brushing me off. Alarms sound in my head, but she’s in such a good mood that I let my guard slip. Whatever she’s plotting can’t be that bad.
“I’ll be done in a few hours,” I say as I walk past her.
“Good luck,” she smirks, continuing to sip on her drink.
I stop, staring at her from the staircase, before I blink away the strangeness of the situation. I climb the steps, my mind switching over to all of the accounts I need to update as I step into my office and halt dead in my tracks.
I grip my mug tighter as I stalk toward my desk. The monitor is covered in fucking stickers. Brightly colored cartoon characters of animals and food nearly swallow it.The bookshelf with my encyclopedias? Also covered in damn stickers. I set my mug down with force on my desk before a cloud of glitter poofs around it. My eye twitches as I realize the whole surface is covered in pink and purple shimmering fine dust. I pick up the keyboard, only for a mountain of powder to pour onto the floor and coat my bare feet.
I slam my keyboard down before rubbing a hand over my mouth and cursing when I pull it away and see it coated infuckingglitter.
This brat!
I leave her alone for one night, and she turns my office into her canvas.
My head whips up to the bookcase, and before I know it, I’m standing in front of it as I observe the one book that’s turned with its pages facing outward. I snatch it, my teeth gritting as I stare at the bright pink cardstock glued to the cover. ‘Addison and Row Row’s Memories’ is freehanded at the top in bubble letters and surrounded by hearts. The picture glued to the front is the one she took of me last night while I was sleeping. She’s in the frame, throwing up a peace sign with her tongue out as I sleep with my mouth wide open in the background.
I shake my head as I open it to find another photo of me sleeping with the caption, ‘You snore like the cutest little freight train!’ under it. She decorated the page with more hearts and stickers. There’s even a fucking flower made of glitter in the corner of the page to bring it all together.
I roll my lips in, nodding as I close her makeshift scrapbook and slide it back onto the shelf. My palm is twitching, but I try to calm myself as I make my way over to the bedroom. I run a scalding shower and clean the glitter off of me before grabbing a t-shirt and jeans from my closet. When something hard rubs across my hand, I frown as I flip my jeans over, and rage fills my veins.
She bedazzled the ass of my fucking jeans!
Thick, tacky rhinestones decorate the back pockets andmake her initials. It’s the cherry on top that causes me to rip through my closet and find that every pair I own is now jeweled and branded with her initials.
I grab a pair, yanking them on along with a pair of boots before storming down the stairs. My loud footsteps bounce off the walls of my home as I round into the kitchen, and Addison shoots up from her chair. She’s smiling as she darts behind the kitchen island and points a finger at me.
“It was a joke!” She shouts, giggling as I brace my hands on the other side of the counter.
“A fucking joke is meant to be funny!” I seethe. “All of my god damned jeans, Addison!”
She bites back another giggle as tears well in her eyes. “I’m laughing, aren’t I?”
