Mag-log inTrish's POV
Washing the dishes next to Joseph felt like a bizarre, forced imitation of a newly posed couple. My heart hammered, not from affection, but from the unrestrainable, grating groan he let out every few seconds. Even my attempt at peace was met with a trash-talking accusation – he called me a wild s*x addict, just like him. Honestly, what is it with guys and s*x? Is it some primal activity they simply can’t live without? I mean, not to generalize, but can’t a girl just have her peace, be seen, and be respected for her living life without being relentlessly pursued?
Seeing a guy like Joseph, who clearly thought his looks and arrogance justified everything, just made the anger at men burn hotter in my stomach. I truly believe that any man who carries s*x – whether as a clear, hidden, or unclear motive – in the foundation of a relationship is a delinquent fool. Many may disagree, but I will never back down from that. If you're not good at truly loving a person rightly but only good at s*x, then you're not worth that person's time.
Sure, some girls love it when guys get into their pants, but it’s crucial to understand that others are highly attuned to emotional sincerity. For us, it’s not just about the moment, it’s about trust, care, and the gentle, respectful way you move with our hearts. We’re not special, but we are delicate-hearted, opening up only to someone who treats us like a whole person, not a destination. And certainly not for pervy scums.
But for Miss Britney’s sake, I had to stay put.
Speaking of Miss Britney, it was annoying how she just sat at the dining table, facing us, watching two teenage strangers begrudgingly wash plates. Was she enjoying the sight? Did she actually think
Joseph and I were getting along? I sincerely hoped she didn’t, because if things continued this way, this house would surely tear itself apart.
As that obnoxious Joseph and I continued the chore, I felt a fresh wave of incandescent anger when he intentionally splattered dirty water all over me, acting like it was a mistake, then flashing a smug smirk. Who does he think he is? But Miss Britney was watching, so again, I forced myself to stay calm. And I truly was calm when she finally walked toward us.
“You two are going to be great young stars. I can see it just by looking at you,” she said, coming in between us and holding us close like we were small children.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, confused.
“Oh, call it a premonition,” she laughed softly. “You both don’t know how much I love you two. I failed countless times as a mother... I’ve done things... things every ‘good mom’ out there would despise, but I feel healed now... and you two are the cause. Holding two teens, on the verge of senior year and graduation, please... I just want to play a good part in your becoming.” Miss Britney spoke emotionally, her eyes glistening.
“Stop, Mom!” Joseph spat in disagreement, yanking his arm away. “Really, Mom, when will you stop saying or feeling like that? Please! If you do that again, I’ll get real mad.” He yelled, turning away to slam a plate down.
I could only imagine what Miss Britney must be going through. She had rarely spoken like that since I arrived yesterday. She had a look of sadness and disappointment, and it was clear that seeing me and Joseph together was the only cure she had.
“But Miss Britney,” I said gently, searching for the right words. “You really shouldn’t feel that way. You’re a great person, a great mother. So...”
“You know... I always wanted a daughter.” She cut in. “Trish. Did Joseph tell you how mad he got at me for telling him I prayed for my baby to be a girl, but he ended up being a boy?”
“Mom!” Joseph yelled again. “I’ll stop talking to you again if you bring that up! You’re so annoying sometimes!”
She laughed so hard I completely forgot she had been overwhelmed only seconds ago. Honestly, seeing her so teary and emotional was the last thing I needed; it just tore at my own heart to see such a kind and loving woman feel that way.
“Trish, I’m a bit shy and insanely naive, but... can I ask you a sincere question?” Miss Britney said, shyly jogging her fingers together.
“Yes, Miss Britney, ask me anything,” I said immediately.
“Okay... uhm... will you be my daughter?” she asked, smiling with genuine shyness.
I was so mortified. My face flushed a deep red. I glanced at Joseph, who looked utterly irritated, his eyes narrowed at me.
The question was awkward, but given Miss Britney’s state of mind, it was clearly driven by a deep, emotional need. I felt a confusing flutter in my stomach.
“Uhm, sure... I’m under your roof after all,” I replied timidly.
“Great!” she sprung up, delighted. She cupped my face again, tenderly, like I was her small child.
“You have no idea how I longed to have a daughter. It’s like God answered my wishes of long ago and brought a beautiful daughter to me. Forgive me if I act all squishy towards you, but I feel like a baby mom again. I don’t know why,” she said, giving a cute, relieved laugh.
“It’s okay, Miss Britney, you can touch me all you want,” I said, meaning it.
She immediately got a phone call and hurried off to pick it up.
Joseph’s eyes were locked on me, still irritated, like he was just waiting to spring out the moment his mother left the room.
“The f**k is that?” he muttered the second she was gone. “You telling my mom to touch you all you want? Oh, no wonder you resist me with that look of hatred! I finally cracked the code... you’re into girls... you’re a lesbian,” he said, smirking as if he had just uncovered a murder case.
“Oh, Detective Joseph,” I said, dripping with sarcasm. “You know, instead of being into sports, you should go into criminology and stuff,” I added.
“Wow, I get to know you more and more, and it hasn’t even been a full day since you arrived. I see you’re quite talented at badmouthing too, impressive. But listen, you don’t belong here. You’re definitely not my sister or my mom’s daughter. Okay?” he said arrogantly, leaning in.
“Well, not that I want to be your sister, but I definitely love your mom. I think all she needs is a better daughter... or should I say, child,” I spat back, letting the last word hang pointedly in the air.
I knew I was being harsh, but one thing I learned from reading lots of books is that keeping calm in a discussion where one tries to bring you low is essential. He can insult me; fine. All I had to do was be strictly unclear with my own insults, and then he would see his own blemishes.
Joseph was left utterly stunned, his mouth slightly ajar like he had run out of words. Looking at his despair really made my day. I thought dealing with him would be impossible, but surprisingly, he was too foolish to even comprehend what I meant. He fumed in anger while he kept doing the dishes, his expression showing that he remembered something that genuinely hurt his pride. But honestly, I didn’t care as long as it shut him up.
A few seconds later, Miss Britney paced back in with a shocking message that pulled me down from cloud nine.
“Guys,” she called, her voice now crisp and professional. “I’ll be leaving for a business trip by tomorrow. It’s going to last for two to three days, at most, so I’ll get you guys anything you need.” Miss Britney said, grilling me up with immediate, paralyzing worry.
What? What the hell was I hearing? Miss Britney leaving the two of us here for two or three days? Impossible! I felt my heart screaming out loud, begging her to change her plans. How could she be so careless? Leaving two young, unrelated strangers in her house?
She headed to take a shower before looking back at us.
“So, when you guys are done with the dishes, take a rest and then head to the market.” She commanded.
Then, she looked pointedly at her son.
“Joseph, I said you guys. That means don't leave her site, she's not familiar with this part of the city, so look after her. She’s your sister now.” She added this last part with a surprising sense of seriousness on her face.
My eyes spun to Joseph in confusion, who looked like a lion ready to explode at me, yet with a terrifying, mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. How can two unrelated teens almost reaching adulthood be brother and sister? That was absurd. I loved Miss Britney; she had a great personality, but she was getting it all wrong, leaving the two of us… uncontrolled.
I had planned on starting to write my very first book today, but that wouldn’t happen, and certainly not for the next two to three days.
How would I survive with him... all alone... under one roof?
My thoughts screamed out loud: What would he do to me if his mom was gone? Not for a day, but for two or three days? Clearly, I was too weak, too fragile, and utterly unprepared for this. And today wasn’t even over yet. I had to go to
the market all the way at Central City District... with this obnoxious delinquent?
(Trish’s POV)Miss Britney’s finger hovered over the 'Accept' icon.Joseph’s hand was still clamped over his mouth, his eyes wide, looking like he was staring at a live grenade.“Hello? Britney Roland speaking.”“Miss Roland? Good evening. My name is Miss Forger. I’m the homeroom teacher for Class 3-B at Mthland High.”The voice was too young. It had a slight tremor, the sound of a twenty-one-year-old who had spent the day realizing she was drowning in a sea of toxic teenagers. I felt my heart hammer against my ribs. Joseph went deathly still, his eyes fixed on the phone as if it were a ticking bomb.“Miss Forger?” Britney’s tone shifted, the razor-edge of her professional voice softening into the cautious curiosity of a parent. “Is everything alright? It’s a bit late for a school call, isn't it?”“I’m calling regarding Joseph and Trish,” she said. “Your phone number is listed as the primary contact on both of their school records.” Forger said. I closed my eyes, waiting for the word
(Trish's POV)"Say it again," I breathed, my voice trembling so hard the words barely left my throat. "Say it to my face, Joseph. Tell me I'm the reason your life is falling apart."The kitchen was a cathedral of cold marble and sharp shadows. Joseph stood across from me, his chest heaving, his school tie ripped open at the collar. He looked at me like I was the damage, like everything unraveling around him was something I'd caused. He didn't see my fear, or how small I felt standing there. He only saw someone convenient to blame for the mess he was desperate to outrun."You heard me," he hissed, his eyes bloodshot and terrifyingly dark. "Everything was fine. We had a plan. And then you brought that—that 'filth' Christian into this house. You brought the school's eyes into our living room!""I didn't bring anything! Christian must've followed us! Anaya barged in here after all!" I shouted, slamming my hands against the counter. The vibration rattled the empty glasses. "I spent every
(Trish's POV)Friday morning was a cold, clinical execution. I hadn't eaten; the very idea of swallowing felt impossible. Joseph hadn't looked at me once since we woke up. He had retreated so far behind his "Hard Man" mask that he looked like a statue carved from ice. We left the house separately, a tactical move that felt like a funeral procession.Room 3-B was a pressure cooker. The air conditioning hummed, but it couldn't mask the thick, cloying scent of Anaya's perfume or the restless energy of the other "problem" seniors."Final presentations," Miss Forger announced, snapping her ruler against her palm. "First up: Joseph Roland and Anaya Sterling."Anaya didn't walk to the front; she sauntered. She adjusted the podium, her eyes flicking to me with a sharp, jagged triumph. Joseph followed suit, stopping a foot behind her, his hands buried in his pockets."Our project is on 'Macbeth'." Anaya began, her voice sugary and loud. Anaya did most of the talking. She stood at the front wi
(Trish's POV)I sat at a mahogany table in the back corner of the library. My laptop was open to a blank document.Because of the limited time given for presentations, we were instructed to hurry up with our assigned partners. Christian Vane sat accross from me, his chair angled so close our knees occasionally brushed. He wasn't looking at the British Literature text; he was looking at me, his gaze sharp and analytical."You're distracted today, Carpenter," Christian murmured, tapping a rhythmic beat on the table with his pen. "Dark circles under your eyes. A certain jumpiness. Did you have a rough night?""I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding thin even to my own ears. "Can we just focus on the thesis? I want to get this done.""In a hurry to get home?" He tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Or just in a hurry to get away from me?"Before I could answer, the library doors swung open. Joseph walked in, looking like he hadn't slept a second. He was followed closel
(Trish's POV)I was in the kitchen, leaning against the cold marble of the island, trying to wash the lingering taste of the school day, and the memory of Christian Vane's peppermint breath with a glass of water. The house was finally quiet. Miss Britney was at her late-shift volunteer gala, and for the first time since the "Pair Up Project" had been announced, I thought I could finally breathe.Then I heard a heavy thud of the front door groaning open, followed by the clicking of heels that sounded far too sharp and far too confident to be Miss Britney's soft step."Joey? You in here? The door was unlocked, as usual."The voice hit me like a bucket of ice water. High, melodic, and laced with an entitlement that made me pissed.Anaya Sterling barged into the foyer.I barely had time to set my glass down before she rounded the corner, sweeping through the living room and into the kitchen. She looked like she'd stepped off a runway, her cream-colored trench coat perfectly tailored, her
(Trish’s POV)Room 3-B smelled like expensive cologne and old chalk - too many egos, and not enough air. Following the chaos of the Greenland game, the administration had decided the best solution was to lock all their highest-performing "problems" in one place and call it progress. Senior capstone. One room. No escape.Joseph sat in the back corner, his chair tipped slightly away from the rest of the world. Three weeks of detention hadn’t softened him; it had refined him. His face was a mask of cold, quiet indifference, but it was the calm of something dangerous. He hadn't looked at me once since we stepped onto campus, the Silent Pact holding firm like an invisible wall between us.Miss Forger snapped her ruler against her palm, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. “This is not a social club. Your senior capstone is a take-home project. Monday to Friday. Presentation this Friday. I’ve assign







