one. all of my enemies started out friends

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IF THERE IS one person in the world I would love to strangle to death, it's Reiner Esteban Cortez. AKA the guy I have the misfortune of being related to.

I pound on the bathroom door for the thousandth time with no response from the other side. I drop my head against the frame, resisting the urge to scream. One of the other bathrooms is under renovation while the other one is occupied by my dad, who is for sure never getting out of there again.

"Get the fuck out already, dickwad!"

This time there is a response, and it comes in the form of the door opening and a middle finger being shoved in my face. Rolling my eyes, I shove my own middle finger toward him.

"Jesus Christ, Rosie. You're so fucking impatient."

I narrow my eyes at him in a way that says exactly what I want to say without any words coming out of my mouth. You've been in the bathroom for over two hours doing God knows what! He grins, patting my head and flinching back when I lunge forward to pinch him.

I sigh. "You actually need to get that constipation problem fixed. I can already smell the heavy shit you just shat."

Rey scoffs and clutches his chest in mock offense. "You're going to pay for that, Cortez."

I snort. "Bring it, Cortez."

He glares at me. I glare back. We stare at each other for a good thirty seconds. His eyes start to water and after a few more seconds, his eyes start to squint until they finally close.

"Fuck!" he groans. "How the fuck do you always win?"

I smirk, brushing past him and going into the bathroom. Before I close the door, I remember something.

"Can you text Van and ask her to bring some of her fabric paint? My phone's out of battery."

Rey's mood immediately sours. "Hell no. If I text her, she's going to think I'm in love with her."

I want to tell him 'But you are', but he doesn't know that so I won't say it. Instead, I roll my eyes at him.

"I'm not even going to begin to question your weird logic." I hold out my hand. "If you're not going to do it, then fine. Give me your phone."

He gapes at me. "You really think I'm going to fall for that again? After you told my ex that I had a voodoo doll of her and cast a curse on her the last time I gave you my phone?"

I snort out a laugh. "Okay, but that was well deserved. No one hurts my baby brother without consequences."

"I'm a year older than you," he deadpans.

"Tomato, tom-ah-to. Now hurry up and either text her yourself or give me your phone."

He groans, pausing for a good minute to just glare at me. Finally relenting, he digs his phone out of his pocket and quickly types a message. He turns the phone around and shows me the text.

rose needs fabric paint.

I shake my head at him. "You're incorrigible."

He winks. "Thanks, sis."

He flicks my forehead and then walks back to his room. I wish I could say I understood him, but I really don't.

I lock myself in the bathroom and take a shower that's cut short only because Rey seems to have used up all the fucking hot water. Once I get out, I spend another half hour taming my curls. Fuck everyone who has straight, non-frizzy hair.

Once I'm done in the bathroom, I go back to my room where my sketchbook is lying open on the flower I was working on. A single, half-blossomed rose. Trapped in the page, forever alone, never being able to reach its full potential.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃, jeremiah fisherDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora