Often amiable to a fault, Ben wasn’t particularly fond of the groan that left him as soon as the shower water ran cold. He furiously wiped at the last of the shampoo in his curls, rinsing it out as the showerhead pelted him with water that felt like ice. He let out a low string of curse words as he turned the water off and swung the door open, grabbing his towel where it hung on the radiator.
“Ayden,” he called. “Ayden.”
There was no answer, not that Ben really expected one with the tone he was taking right now. His uncle’s ward rarely responded to any voice that suggested a reprimand was on its way.
Sighing to himself, he scrubbed the towel against his head, quickly drying himself off before wrapping it around his waist, holding the two ends together securely. As he opened the bathroom door, he poked his head around the corner to the living room. Ayden was lying on the sofa, thumbs furiously jabbing at his Nintendo Switch, in perfect earshot.
“Ayden, what have we said about using up all the hot water? I don’t know how many times I need to keep telling you this,” he sighed.
“I grew up in the desert, dude. I need heat,” Ayden said, around the string of his hoody that was crammed into his mouth. He didn’t look up from his screen once and all Ben could do was sigh, this time in defeat.
“You really know how to wind me up, don’t you?” he said, although he would be lying if he claimed that his expression wasn’t a little bit fond.
Shaking his head, he straightened up, ready to make his way to his own room when the front door swung open. His Uncle Quentin walked in, carrying two suitcases with him that instantly had Ben wondering if he had forgotten something important, a trip they were supposed to be taking, perhaps. That was altogether ridiculous though. It was right in the middle of the academic year, so there was no way his uncle would see fit to take him and Ayden out of state when he knew Ben’s job required his presence there. But then again, he wasn’t all too sure if Quentin would take note of that caveat, scatter-brained and uncaring of routine as he was.
“What’s all that then?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
Quentin looked up, blinking owlishly at him.
“It’s her stuff,” he said, rather plainly at that.
Ayden glanced at something over Quentin’s shoulder and then sat bolt upright, hoody string falling from his mouth.
“Holy shit,” the teenager said.
Benji frowned, craning his neck to see what all the fuss was about, only for the door to open even further and welcome in a rather disgruntled looking Daniela Lopez, another bag in her hand. At once, his eyes widened. He looked between the woman and his uncle, the latter’s expression suggesting that he was completely baffled by his nephew’s apparent confusion.
“I told you Daniela was moving in with us,” Quentin said, with the confidence of someone who truly believed what he was saying.
Mouth falling open, all Ben could do was stare. His grip on the towel tightened when he remembered his state of (damp) undress. Part of him wanted to shy away, perhaps retreat further back into the bathroom, but right now he was worried that he might have accidentally stumbled into some sort of hostage negotiation if everything about Daniela’s demeanour was anything to go by. She looked like their tiny little apartment was the absolute last place she wanted to be.
“Sorry, what?” Ben asked. The mind truly boggled.
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