Mr. Bieber's Sitter

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July 12th, 2016

I sat up in my room, bored out of my noggin. It's morning, almost noon, and I have zero plans for today. None, ziltch, zippo. I laid on my bed staring up at the ceiling, occasionally huffing to fill the dead silence.

"Y/n, come down for a moment please," mom called. I slung myself up off my bed and moped down the stairs, "yes mom?"

"My boss fired his babysitter and needs a last resort. Can you watch his son for a little bit? He'll drive you home afterwards," she had this pleading eye.

"I don't know him,"

"You don't have to know him,"

"What? Then how am I supposed to know I'm safe? What if he's some psy hopathic murderer? I could die you know,"

"Honey, he's no such thing. He's a sweet heart and well respected. Please do this, I need a raise," she begged. "So, you trust this man so much with my life?" I commented. She sighed, "darling, please?"

I rolled my eyes, "fine, but if I die, it's your fault," I pointed at her then went up to my room to get changed. Simple white shorts with a black tank top and a grey cardigan will do. I slipped on my black and white vans, grabbed my phone and charger, shoving them in a small bag.

"So when is he going to get here- oh?" I started to ask a question but my question was answered quickly when I saw an elderly man.

"Y/n, this is Benjamin, he's my boss' driver." She smiled. I nodded. "Hello," I say smiling.

"Miss Y/n, I'll be escorting you to Mr. Bieber's home. Need I take your bag?" He said in a very, creepy, but polite tone. Come in, what's the worse that the old man could do?

"No, thank you." I answered.

The ride to Mr. Bieber's home was smooth. Minus the fact that my nerves are all over the place...

"Your destination, miss. Have yourself a good day," his farewell was formal, which means everyone else in the house is formal. Which also means I dressed casually, not presentable.
Oh lord I need to not over analyze things.

As I exited the vehicle, I looked up at the massive house before me. Mr. Bieber lives in a gated community. Very quiet, very homey.

I walked up the stone path to a set of stairs. Knocking thrice on the door, I was greeted by a woman in an apron. "Yes?"

"I'm here to babysit for Mr. Bieber," I commented.

"Oh, yes. Come on in," she smiles. "May I take your bag? Your coat?" She offers. I shook my head with a smile, "it's fine."

"Mr. Bieber will be down in a moment, he's getting ready for work," she informs me, "so I'll show you around the house, the basics." She tells me.

She directed me to the available rooms, the kitchen, the back yard, the bathrooms and the living area. May I say, I feel kind of under dressed in this house. Everything is so pristine and well kept up.

"Constance, is my sitter here?" A raspy voice sounded from the hallway. My head flicked to the sound immediately. A young man with dirty blonde hair, with his white sleeves rolled up and his tattooed arms in plain sight appeared around the corner. I swallowed when gut when he looked up at me. Bright honey Hazel eyes, perfectly pink plumped lips, strong structured jawline and a stare that immediately makes you weak in the knees, intimidating if you will.

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