The phone rings at two forty-five in the afternoon. Looking down at my Nexus 5x, I see that I'm being contacted by Mr. Clifton. Uh-oh. I swallow the last bite of a Drumstick ice cream cone and tap the 'answer' button.

"This is Jake," I say, trying to sound casual. I haven't seen or heard from the Clifton's again since that first time watching Rowan and Ruthie, a couple weeks ago. I had resigned myself to the fact that they must have found a female sitter, and had forgotten all about me. Rarely has being mistaken made me happy.

The voice on the other end is frazzled, "Uhm, hey there, Jake."

"Good afternoon," I greet him. "How's it going, sir?"

A brief pause. I hear yelling in the background as he answers, "Things have been better, Jake. But that's why I'm calling. It seems like someone forgot that the girls need to be picked up from school today."

The way he said 'someone' makes me think that the 'someone' he's referring to is listening to him.

"Sorry to hear that," I tell him, trying to control my excitement.

"Yes, well," he says, "I understand this is extremely late notice, but-"

"What time do they need to be picked up?"

Mr. Clifton sighs, "In about fifteen minutes, I'm afraid."

"No problem," I reply quickly, even though it is. My girlfriend and I were supposed to watch a movie this afternoon at my house. I'd better text her and cancel. "I'd be glad to."

"Jake, you're a lifesaver." He relays the driving directions to their school, which I promptly forget. (That's what GPS is for, right?)

"And I'll just drop them off at home?" I ask.

"Uh," he clears his throat. "Actually, if you don't mind, perhaps you could keep them occupied for a couple hours before bringing them back. I have an important conference call for work, and I'd love to be able to take it without children around."

"Oh, sure. I get that."

"Thanks again," he finishes. "Just have them back around, say, five. Come inside and we'll settle up."

"Sounds good," I say. "Good luck with the conference call."

"Oh, yes," he says, sounding distracted. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

I change out of my sweats and into a pair of khaki's and a t-shirt in thirty seconds flat. I'm in my trusty ol' 2002 Saturn by 2:57. I bring up Google Maps and floor the accelerator. The girls' school isn't too far off, but I'll still be a bit late. As I speed a few miles over the limit, I wonder if Mr. Clifton informed his daughters that I'd be picking them up. Does Rowan even have a cell phone? I have no idea. And speaking of phones, why is Mr. Clifton's call taking precedence over his daughter's ride home? It must be something impressive. I make a mental note to ask about his occupation.

When I reach my destination, I'm lost. There are a bunch of cars pulling in and out, and an endless stream of children. How am I supposed to find-

"Jaaaaake!"

I can hear Ruthie's cry from inside my car, even as she stands about fifty yards away. I'm mildly alarmed by this. It's a good thing she's eight; too old to throw tantrums. I hope.

I give a little wave and maneuver the vehicle up to the curb where they're standing. I have to squeeze in a few feet in front of them thanks to the tight parking.

I push down on the brake and turn my head, watching as they approach. Ruthie bounds up to my door, the large bow in her dark hair bouncing with her. She's wearing skinny jeans and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Rowan follows her, dressed in a patterned light purple casual-looking dress that ends just above her knees, and dark purple leggings.

Ruthie screeches to a halt and beams at me through the window, "Jake!" She turns to her sister, "Rowan, it is Jake!"

Using the hand crank, I roll down my window and call, "Hop in!"

"Ooooh!" Ruthie exclaims, "Can I sit in the front?"

"No."

She moves to the back door, pouting slightly, bounce gone from her step.

"Byeee Ruthieee," calls a tiny female classmate, waving.

"See you tomorrow, Avery," Ruthie calls back.

Rowan takes a step closer to me, "Caaaan I sit in the front?" She's smiling and her big eyes are bright. Perhaps it's just my imagination, but she seems older than when I saw her last. Maybe it's the way this particular set of clothing accentuates her curves, which are barely there, but are there nonetheless.

"Yes," I say. "But only because you're almost thirteen."

She pumps her fist and races to the passenger side.

"Aren't you going to bid 'adieu' to your friends, too?" I ask, somewhat teasingly, as she opens the door.

"What friends?" she replies, lowering herself and sliding into the seat.

"Oh, c'mon."

"No, seriously," she tells me, head raised slightly to meet my gaze. "I have like, zero friends here."

"That's what every kid your age thinks," I roll my eyes and grin. She doesn't respond. I probably shouldn't have said that. "Hey, I was just kidding," I tell her. She looks over and nods, but still refuses to speak. "Sorry," I continue, "you've probably had a rough day. I'm still in school too, y'know."

"You go to school?!" Ruthie blurts from behind me. I twist around to see her. "But you're old," she laughs.

"He's only eighteen," Rowan reminds her little sister.

"Mhmm," I say. "I'll be graduating in a few months, though, and then," I lift my hands to the sky dramatically, "I'll be free!"

Ruthie finds this hysterical.

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were you," I tell her. "Because you've still got a long way to go until you graduate."

This silences her. Then she pipes up again, "There's a big box back here; did you know that?"

"Oh, right." I'd forgotten about it the previous day. "I need to take it inside when I get home. So," I say, starting to pull out, "did you guys know I was coming?"

"Yes!" Ruthie cries out, "I knew this morning!"

"Impossible!" I stick my tongue at her. "Until a few minutes ago, I didn't even know."

"We didn't really know," Rowan clarifies. "We heard our parents arguing about picking us up, and figured they might call someone else to do it."

"And they called you, Jake!"

"Yes, Ruthie, yes they did."

"I keep telling them about you," Ruthie says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she says sadly. "But they haven't gone out again, so we haven't needed a babysitter."

"Okay," I say, feeling relieved. So they didn't replace me!

"This isn't the way home," Rowan speaks up, pointing back at the road we just passed. "You're supposed to turn there."

"I know," I say, "but guess what!"

Ruthie freaks out, "You're adopting us!"

I try not to laugh, "Nope. But you do get to hang out with me for a little while. Your dad has an important business call."

"He does?" Ruthie sounds puzzled. I'm guessing her parents don't tell her much about their professional livelihoods.

"He does," I confirm. "But that means we get to have some fun! I was thinking...the park?"

I hear Ruthie bouncing in the seat, "Yes, yes, yes!"

I look across at Rowan. Her hands are folded in her lap. "How's that sound?"

"Sure," she says, shrugging.

We drive in quiet for a few seconds. I take on an old man's voice, "For shame! Ruthie, your sister would rather spend her time playing on her fancy computer phone. She wouldn't know the great outdoors if it bit her on the bum, would she?"

"Nope," Ruthie chortles.

"I don't have a phone," Rowan cracks a grin. "And wasn't I just outdoors when you picked me up?"

"True, true," I say, reverting to my usual voice. "It just seems like kids your age are more into gadgets and, I don't know, vampire books these days. They're forgetting about more important things."

"Like parks?" Ruthie asks.

"Like parks," I nod.

"That's sad," Ruthie commiserates.

"I don't have any gadgets," Rowan looks at me, "so don't judge me against my obsessed-with-social-media peers."

"That was a very grown-up thing to say," I raise an eyebrow. "But you didn't deny reading vampire books."

She flushes a little, but recovers, "Fine. I read Twilight once. Just to see what all the fuss was about."

"Suuure," I say, and Ruthie echoes me.

"Hey!" Rowan laughs at her sister, "I read some to you, remember? And you liked it."

"I did?" Ruthie thinks for a moment. "Oh, yeah...I liked Jacob." She gets excited, "He's kinda like you, Jake! You're both named Jacob."

"Actually, I'm just 'Jake'," I tell her, pulling into the parking lot of the park.

"But isn't that short for 'Jacob'?" Rowan asks.

"Nope. Not in my case."

"Huh," she chews on her lip.

"Well," Ruthie tries to keep her comparison going, "You're 'hot' like Jacob."

Rowan lets out a 'I-can't-believe-she-just-said-that' sound.

I slow the car into a parking space and turn to face her. "Excuse me?"

Ruthie looks from her sister to me, "Uhm...hot? That means cool, I think."

Rowan and I bust a gut.

"What?" Ruthie stamps her foot. "You said that Jacob was 'hot'!" She glares at her older sister. Ruthie and I wait expectantly for a response as we begin making our way toward the play structure in the center of the green grass.

"I don't remember ever saying that," Rowan clears her throat. "And besides, that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Ruthie tags along at her side.

"'Hot' doesn't mean 'cool'," Rowan gestures, as though this should be obvious.

"Then what does it mean?"

"Jake's older," Rowan shrugs. "Ask him." Then she shoots me a mischievous grin.

Ruthie skips up to me and tries to match my pace. "Jake? What does 'hot' mean?"

"It means 'warm'," I tell her wisely. "Like how you say, 'It sure is hot out today'."

"Then why did you say Jacob was 'hot'?" Ruthie backtracks to Rowan.

"Yeah," I echo. "Why did you say that? We'd like to know."

"I didn't say that!" Rowan exclaims. "I remember now; I told you that some people think he's hot."

"But you don't?"

She shakes her head.

Ruthie's next question causes her even more embarrassment, "Do you think our Jake is hot?"

Rowan glances over at me, clearly not wanting to talk about the subject further. I decide to save her.

"Look, Ruthie," I say, pointing up ahead at the bright green jungle gym. "Wanna race?"

"Yeah!"

We take off running; all of us. Ruthie wins, of course. Rowan and I tie.

"Whew," I pant, hands on my head. "After that, maybe we're too tired to play."

Ruthie's big eyes stare into mine as if trying to hypnotize me, "I'm never too tired to play." She points over to a bench beside the path that winds around the play area. "You can sit over there, grandpa." With that, she's climbing up, out of my reach.

"Wow," I say, watching her go. "That was quite a heavy burn for one so light."

Rowan agrees, "That was one hot burn."

We share a look.

"Guess I'll go sit on the bench for a little while and cool off," I say.

She nods, "I'll stay with her."

I head over and take a seat on the wooden-slats. Ouch. Well, I suppose comfortable seating takes a backseat to dangerous-looking play structures. I try not to feel bad about both girls leaving me; I had been hoping they'd ask me to play with them. Not that I'd have said yes, but it would've made me feel included. We've been waiting weeks to see each other again, after all.

I check my phone briefly for texts; there's one from my buddy Carl. He's wondering what I'm doing. He usually teases me about the whole 'babysitting' thing, but my mother always told me (before she left, anyway) that people are going to make fun of you no matter what, so you might as well do whatever makes you happy. Babysitting earns me some cash, and it's better than an actual job. Plus, I get to meet some pretty cool kids on occasion.

I glance over to see what my young wards are up to. Ruthie's going hand-over-hand on the monkey bars, her stick legs kicking to and fro. Rowan follows behind her, feet almost touching the ground. Almost.

"Look at me!" Ruthie yells. I smile and wave, then pull my phone back out. Carl hasn't replied yet. I could swear there was someone else I needed to text, but the specifics slip my mind. I stick the device back into my pocket (which is a small struggle in skinny pants) and let my eyes drift back to the girls.

It looks like Ruthie has made a friend; she's jabbering with a girl about her own size. The girl has bright, almost white, blond hair, worn in pigtails. Her dress is frilly, and looks out of place in a park. I look around to see who she's here with, and my gaze settles on an older lady sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the play area. Her posture is impeccable.

Suddenly, there's a tap on my left shoulder. I whirl my head to the left as I hear someone plop down next to me on the right.

"Very funny," I tell Rowan.

She smirks, "Fooled you."

"Takes a fool to fool a fool," I retort.

"That doesn't even make sense," she pats my shoulder. "But nice try."

"Did you desert your sister?"

"She's doing alright." Rowan juts her chin out toward the two little girls, who are climbing onto two spring riders, which are the coiled, rocking, springy animals that one finds in public parks and school playgrounds. "As usual," Rowan adds.

"Okay," I say, feigning exasperation. "What'd you do with her?"

She looks over, confused. "Huh?"

"Happy Rowan. You've kidnapped Happy Rowan and replaced her with a lookalike."

This earns a smile, but it doesn't stay for long.

"School sucks," she confesses.

"Ah. You've got a case of summer fever? Eager to be free from the shackles of learning and enrichment?"

"Stop," she giggles. "That's not it. I don't mind learning; in fact, I kinda like it." She grows serious, "It's the people I can't stand."

"What, your teachers?"

"The other kids, mostly."

I frown, trying to understand, "They're not your type?"

"They're terrible," she grumbles. "Mean, vicious, nasty, etcetera etcetera..."

"Why? How?"

"They...it's complicated."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with your parent's unique strategy for raising children, would it?"

I've never seen eyes as troubled as the ones before me now. I'm kind of startled. I have trouble taking things seriously; I always feel the urge to lighten the situation with dumb jokes.

"I told you the first time we met," she says. "I had to learn my lesson the hard way."

I try to think of something to say; I don't wanna pry, but don't want her to feel like I'm changing the subject completely. "So, what about Ruthie?" I ask. "What's to stop her from learning the same lesson?"

She looks down into her lap and takes a deep breath. When she meets my eyes again, the troubled look has vanished. "Enough about me," she says. "Tell me what your life is like. I wanna know everything."

"Everything?" I laugh. "That might get awkward."

She opens her mouth to laugh, but closes it quickly, and nudges me with her hip.

I look up just in time to see the lady with amazing posture speeding towards us like lightning. Well, lightning for cane-carrying elderly woman. Her face is twisted into a scowl, and I haven't the faintest idea why.

"Hello there," I call as she comes within a few yards. "What can we do for you, ma'am?"

She's practically bristling, "I'll tell you what you can do," she seethes, "you can take yourself and your little sister back home! I don't ever want her speaking with my granddaughter again, do you hear?"

I'm taken aback by this, naturally. I'm not one to talk to strangers, and I hate conflict. What, does she object to Ruthie's skintight jeans?

"I'm sorry," I keep my voice firm and clear. "They seem to be getting along well. This is a public park; we have every-"

"Exactly," the woman raises an arm. At first, I think she intends to strike out at us, and I put an arm in front of Rowan, shielding her. But the woman turns and points a bony finger in the direction of the springy riders. "Look at what your little sister is doing!"

I peer past her. The girls are still at the riders; the lady's granddaughter is atop a grey elephant. Ruthie sits astride a zebra, rocking it back and forth. They're giggling, and look to be enjoying themselves greatly.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I say, reminding myself to be respectful since I'm on the job. "I don't really see the problem."

"The problem. The problem?" She's almost shaking with indignation. I'm tempted to start laughing at the strangeness of it all, but manage to resist. "The problem is that-" She glances at Rowan, who is still sitting beside me, her shoe touching mine. Then, she lowers her voice to a whisper, and leans close to me, using her hand in an attempt to shield her words from Rowan. "My problem is that your little sister is...is riding that creature indecently!"

I can't help it; my dumb joke DNA sizzles to life, "It's called a 'zebra'," I quip.

"You think this is funny?" She glares into my eyes, "No respectable young lady should be doing what she's doing!" She pauses to catch her breath, "And especially not in public!"

"Alright, just...just calm down," I stammer, trying to calm myself. I look past her again, studying Ruthie. She follows my gaze, and turns halfway, leaning on her cane for support.

I watch as Ruthie rides the zebra, the animal rocking up and down. Honestly, if I saw any other kid doing what she's doing, I wouldn't take a second look. The toy is meant to be ridden. But because I know Ruthie, I know there may be some kernel of truth to the woman's wild-sounding claims.

"Look," I stand up, take her arm, and walk a few steps away from the bench. I decide to play innocent, "My sister isn't doing anything wrong. And I don't see why you have an issue with a little girl playing on a toy at the park."

She stammers for a moment, then regains her words, "I have nothing against playing at the park; I encourage it. But when my little Samantha wants to ride on the elephant, she shouldn't have to be subjected to such vulgarity!"

I look over at them again, still seeing no real difference in the way the two girls are riding their respective mounts. "I'm telling you, I don't see what you're seeing." I want to say more, and when she doesn't respond right away, I go for it. "And even if she is doing what you say, how is it hurting anyone?" Her mouth falls open, but I can't stop now. "It's not like she's throwing a tantrum, or throwing up on a slide, or-"

"I can see you need help; she has a problem!"

"She's just doing what feels good; what's natural. Maybe the world would do good to loosen up a bit when it comes to that kind of thing. And you're the only one who has a problem with it," I say coldly. "And that's all I have to say. Good day, madame!" I give a curt nod, take a step backward, and sit back down, almost missing the bench.

The woman is furious, but she can see there's no getting through to me. "We are leaving," she huffs, and turns her back on us.

Rowan is grabbing my arm, pulling me toward her, eyes shining, "That. Was. Incredible! You used Ruthie's burn techniques on an old lady!"

I realize I'm breathing hard, and try to slow my pulse, "Woah...I've never talked to an old person that way in my life."

"She deserved it!" Rowan cries gleefully. "You were amazing, Jake. Seriously. Thank you for...for standing up for Ruthie. For us."

"No sweat," I tell her. "I believe everything I said."

We watch as the woman calls her granddaughter away from the playground.

"You're right about why I hate school," Rowan says out of the blue. "And that's why I couldn't let the same thing happen to Ruthie."

I suck in a breath, "What'd you do?"

"I just told her that there's a rule in school about keeping her clothes on and not sticking her hand down her pants." Her mouth twists into a half-smile, "I suppose it's working, so far. Her classmates still talk to her."

I nod, "But what about times like this?" I motion to the springy riders. "She didn't break either rule, but someone still noticed."

"You really think she was...?" Rowan asks.

I shrug.

"I hadn't really thought about that," she admits. "I guess we've just been lucky."

Ruthie comes running up to us, "Hi!"

"Hi yourself," I reply. "You looked like you were having fun. And you made a friend."

"Yeah," she nods happily. "But she had to go, so it's not really fun anymore."

I glance at my watch. It's a quarter until four. I'm not supposed to drop them off until five.

"Well," I tell her, "it's not quite time to go home yet."

"Oh," Ruthie looks thoughtful, then beams up at me and grabs my hand. "Let's go to your house!"

"Oh, no," I say, not really meaning it.

"Oh, yes," Rowan says, latching onto the idea. "You've seen ours; now we should see yours!"

"I guess it's only fair," I concede. "Back to the car, gang!"

"And," Ruthie announces as we get to the vehicle, "it's only fair that I get to ride in front this time."

"Hold the phone, I'm not sure about that," I tell her.

"But," she protests, "Fairness!"

Rowan sidles up to her, "Life isn't fair, kid." She takes her shoulders and guides her to the rear door.

"Jake!" Ruthie cries. "Help! Rowan's being mean!"

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to agree with your sister," I sigh. "It's not safe for you to ride up front yet. Wait until you're a little older. Then you can, I promise."

"Really? You promise?"

"Is there an echo in here?"

"Okay, it's a promise!" She hops into the back without further argument.

"So, where is your house, anyway?" Rowan asks as I start the engine. "You must live nearby if you could get to the school on such short notice."

"You could say that," I grin at her. "I'm about a twenty minute drive from your house, and a fifteen minute drive from your school."

"Then you should come over again," Ruthie pipes up. "It's boring at home without you."

"Oh?" I laugh. "How do you survive without Candyland?"

"It's difficult," Rowan jokes.

"Mhmm," Ruthie agrees earnestly. "We usually just watch TV now."

"What about reading books?" I ask, remembering Ruthie's bedtime story.

"No," she says.

Rowan speaks quietly to me, "Honestly, Mom and Dad don't seem to be themselves these days. They never read to Ruthie anymore."

"Ruthie," I say, "I will read you another story. And yes, that's also a promise."

"When?" She brightens, "Today?"

"We'll see. If not today, then next time I come over to babysit."

I feel Rowan's eyes boring into me.

"I mean, 'kidsit'."

No change.

"I mean, to watch over you even though Rowan is probably old enough to do that herself."

"That's better," Rowan says. "But even though I'm old enough, I still want you to come."

"Cause you're 'hot', Jake!" Ruthie quips.

We pull onto my road, and I slow the car to allow them time to look around. "We'll have about forty minutes to hang around," I say. "Then it's back to your house."

"Jake," Ruthie points to a house, "Is that yours?"

"Nope, my house is a bit further down."

"Oh."

"This is a pretty neighborhood," Rowan comments. It's actually perfectly average in my experiences, and it's definitely not as nice as the area where they live, but I don't argue.

"My parents and I moved here when I was about your age," I tell Rowan.

"Was it hard? Moving to a new place?"

"At first I didn't care for it. But I've made my peace with it over the years. Having a good attitude is the most important thing. And, hey, it's a great place to be in the babysitting business."

"Your parents live at your house?" Ruthie questions.

"More like I live at their house."

"Yeah, Ruthie," Rowan reclines in the passenger seat, "Only adults can own houses."

"Right," I say. "Hey, wait a minute. Technically, I am an adult. If eighteen is the criteria."

"You don't act like an adult," Ruthie says.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're more fun!"

"I'll accept that answer."

As we approach the house, my heart falls out of my chest. There, in the driveway, is a very familiar-looking van. And it reminds me of something I'd forgotten.

"Is that your parent's car?" Rowan asks, indicating the white and silver minivan.

"No," I say after a moment. "That's Sara's."

Sara. Our date.

What should I do? Sara can't know I jilted her for a babysitting gig.

My first thought is to cancel our date, but then I think twice. No way will that fly; it's too late for even a late notice. But I can't just drop the girls off ahead of schedule, either. Too late for that. I could...hide them in the attic! No, I tell myself, that's too creepy. (I've been reading a lot of V.C. Andrews.)

There's only one option.

"Who's Sara?" asks Ruthie.

"I guess you're about to find out," I gulp.

Rowan and I open our doors and step out. I pull open Ruthie's door to find that she's trying to pick up my package.

"I'll take that," I tell her, scooping it up. "Too heavy for you."

"I'm pretty strong," she tells me. "See?" She slams the car door shut hard.

I click my tongue at her, "Tell my car you're sorry."

"Sorry, car!" Ruthie says cheerfully.

The girls follow behind me as I make my way up to the front door.

"I like your house," Ruthie declares. "But there's one problem: it's not pink."

"I'll make a mental note to fix that later," I say, resting the package on my knee and opening the door.

We step inside. Footsteps hurry around a corner.

Sara appears, red hair flying behind her.

"Jake, where-" She stops, seeing my companions. "Who are they?"

I take a deep breath and smile at her pointedly, "These are the girls I watched a few weeks ago. Their father called me earlier; I had to-" I look down at Ruthie, who slips her hand inside mine. "I got to pick them up from school."

"It was short notice," Ruthie says helpfully.

"I see," Sara clears her throat, but then smiles. "It's nice to meet you both. I'm Sara." She sticks out her hand.

Ruthie drops mine and steps up to shake hers, "I'm Ruthie. And that's my sister, Rowan." She points.

Rowan gives a little wave, "Hi."

"Well, come in, I guess," Sara says, leading us into the main area of the downstairs, where the living room and dining room are connected. She falls into step beside me, and gives me a look.

"Alright girls," I say, plopping the package down on the dining room table. "Why don't you go into the living room and watch TV for a minute."

"We can do that at home," Ruthie mopes.

But Rowan knows Sara and I need to talk, and she shoos her sister away from us.

"Okay," Sara says quietly. "What's going on?"

"I'm really sorry," I try to smile. "Like Ruthie said, it was short notice. They needed someone to pick them up; I couldn't turn them down."

"You had to get them from school," Sara nods, "I understand that. But why are they here and not at their own home?"

I scratch my neck, "Well, their father has an important business call, so he thought I should keep them until five."

"And you didn't say anything about a prior commitment?"

"C'mon, it wasn't really a date," I protest, even though I know she thought it was. "Just a movie at the house." I'm in deep water. I stop; catch my breath. "Don't worry. They'll be gone soon. Then it's movie night. Just stick around; help me keep them entertained."

She closes her eyes and heaves a sigh, "Fine. I'll try. But you know I'm not great with kids."

"Then it's a good thing these kids are great with adults," I say, and then remember something else to tell her. "You know how I said these are the girls I watched a couple weeks ago?"

"Yeah," she says, then thinks for a moment. "Wait, those girls? I thought you said they wouldn't be calling you again!"

"I didn't think they would! Just...just play it cool if anything weird happens, okay?"

I had given Sara a brief rundown of my time at the Clifton's, leaving out certain, shall we say, more intimate parts. And she hadn't seemed to like the Clifton's style.

"The things I put up with for you." But she nods. I walk over to the living room and Sara follows me. Rowan has turned on the TV and is now sitting in an armchair, resting her hands on the armrests. Ruthie is curled up in the corner of the sofa. I nudge Sara.

She walks over to the sofa, "Mind if I sit here?"

"No," Ruthie says, glancing up as Sara plops down at the opposite corner.

I step forward, but freeze when I notice Ruthie's movement. She unzips the crotch of her jeans, revealing bright pink panties. She sticks a hand down down her front and begins fiddling her fingers over the pink.

Sara is trying not to cringe. She looks to me, frantic.

"Just act natural," I mouth.

"So, honey," she says, swallowing and trying to keep her eyes on Ruthie's, "how old are you?"

Ruthie glances over at her, "Eight." A brief pause, then, "How old are you?"

"Uh," Sara replies, "I'm nineteen."

"You're older than Jake," Ruthie says, sitting up a little straighter against the back of the sofa.

"Well, yes," Sara agrees.

"Does that mean you're more mature than him?" Rowan asks innocently.

Sara gives her a sanctimonious nod, "I tend to think so."

A soft guttural noise comes from Ruthie's mouth, which is slightly ajar. She looks at Sara, her hand still moving gently between her legs. "Jake's nice. He played Candyland with me and read me a bedtime story."

Sara doesn't reply at first, and I hate the awkwardness. Why can't everyone just be more like the Clifton's and not make a big deal out of nothing? Doesn't everyone masturbate at some point in their lives?

"I'm going to carry that box up to my room now," I announce. "Stay put, guys." I give Sara a look. More mature than me? We'll see about that.

Rowan jumps up from the chair, "I'll come with you. I wanna see your room." Sara's eyes are pleading with me to take Ruthie along, too.

"Ruthie?" I ask. "Do you wanna come?"

She tilts her head straight up to look at me, "Uhm...no." She goes back to watching the screen. "I'll see it later."

Figures. The younger the kid, the stronger the TV addiction.

"Suit yourself," I say, shrugging at Sara. "C'mon, Rowan."

"Right behind you," she replies, not meeting Sara's eyes as she passes.

I hoist the package into my arms and set off for the stairs.

"So," Rowan falls into step beside me, "what's in there, anyway?"

I don't answer, and she pokes me in the side, almost causing the package to fall. "Well?"

"You'll just have to wait until we get there," I tell her, winking. I look down as we come to the carpeted stairs, to make sure I don't trip. She's taken her shoes off, which I can relate to. I always walk around in socks myself; they're just more comfortable. She's got her dark purple leggings on, and I wonder if they feel like socks.

"You got it?" Rowan says as I falter halfway to the top.

"Of course," I retort. "I'm just as strong as your sister, y'know."

"Hah."

We reach the door to my room, and I press against the hallway wall so she can open it. "I'll warn you now; it may be messy. In fact, the last kids I brought up here went missing. They're still wandering around in here, somewhere, probably. Maybe that's the smell I was-"

"That's gross," she shakes her head. "And I'll take my chances." She opens the door and slips in ahead of me.

I follow, hefting the box against my chest. My room isn't as bad as I let on. There's a few items on the floor: a water bottle, my backpack, and volume one of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, a manga I'm reading. My bed is against the back wall, and made up with clean sheets, thankfully. My laptop is on my desk, a green swivel chair in front. My bookshelf is filled with books and DVD's, to the point where it doesn't even look like a bookshelf anymore.

She draws in a deep breath as I set the box on my bed.

"It doesn't stink in here. It smells like...you."

I raise an eyebrow and look dubious, "You can smell me?"

She concentrates, lifts a finger to her nose, taps it a few times. "Yup. It's a very distinctive odor." She comes and sits beside the box, "Alright, open it!"

"Hold on," I head over to my desk. "Gotta find the scissors."

I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she waits. She rubs a hand across the knee of her leggings, then lifts up the hem of her dress and inspects it. I see the small rise between her thighs, and my hand bumps against the scissor handles.

"Found 'em."

I walk back and sit on the other side of the package. Rowan bounces with impatience, "This better be worth the wait."

I cut across the top, and together, we pull the lid open. I watch her face as she realizes what's inside.

"I've never seen so many board games!"

"I thought it'd be a good idea to stock up. Even Candyland gets boring after a while."

Her eyes start getting misty. She pushes the box back, so nothing separates us. "Oh, Jake," she breathes, "you really were planning to come back."

I'm surprised that she's surprised, "Well, yeah. Didn't I say that you're stuck with me?"

"But it's been two weeks, and-"

"Usually the parents call the babysitter, not the other way around."

She brushes the back of her hand across her face and nods.

"Well," I start to push myself up. "I guess we'd better be-"

"Wait," she puts a hand on my arm, pushing me back down gently. She turns to face me, one leg dangling off the bed.

I comply; wondering what's she's planning to tell me. Will I finally get to hear the juicy details of her school life?

She isn't finding the words, so I prompt her, "You know you can talk to me. About anything."

Her eyes meet mine and her voice is level, "Despite what everyone else thinks about my sister and I, you don't think we're weird. You stuck up for us, and blew off your date for us...why?"

"You already know," I tell her, taking her hands. "I think you're great. Both of you. When I'm with you, it doesn't feel like a job. You said you don't have friends, but hell, I'm your friend. And so what if Ruthie likes touching herself."

"You don't think it's wrong? Like that old lady?"

"No."

"Then prove it."

I start to laugh, but then I see her face. "What do you mean?"

Eyes locked on mine, her right hand lifts the hem of her dress and her left hand slides down her covered mound.

"You've seen me. Now I wanna see you."

We stare at each other.

"Rowan," I falter, a laugh catching at the back of my throat.

"I mean it," she says. "It's only fair."

I gulp. Is she saying what I think she's saying?

"Go on," she says. "Prove it."

And then I realize how her eyes seem to go on forever. And how her beautiful dark hair glides gracefully across her face. And how her red lips, big and plump, fit her perfectly.

I swallow. I reach a hand down. I unbutton the top button of my pants. I pull down the zipper.

Rowan watches. Her hand rests between her legs, waiting.

"I...don't normally do this," I say, my voice scratchy. "Masturbate, I mean. Not that I think it's wrong, but..."

Rowan doesn't respond.

I stand and let my pants drop around my socks. I'm wearing grey boxers, which normally fit me pretty loosely, but my bulge is already visible.

I feel unbearably nervous, but there's excitement, too. Anticipation. I don't think either one of us is breathing. I'm probably sweating enough for both of us, though.

I grasp the waistband between my thumb and index finger, and pull.

A small breath comes from Rowan as the boxers join the pants.

So...does she want me to...

I curl my hand around my erect shaft, and slowly pump it a few times.

"I'm not very-" I begin.

Another pump.

Her eyes are huge. I'm pretty sure mine are, too.

"Yeah, I..." My face is turning red, and I let my hand fall to my side. "We should-"

In an instant, Rowan is scooting over so she's directly in front of me. She reaches out her left hand; she touches me. I stare down. Her fingers close around me, delicate and light.

She mimics my pumping motion.

And we both break out laughing.

"It's so weird," she gasps out.

"Weird?" I manage to reply.

She's still holding it.

"No, I mean-" Our laughter vanishes along with the tension. "Just different."

"Well, yeah," I tell her, smiling down. "Boys and girls are-"

"I know, I know," she says, looking up. Smiling back. "But still." She pumps again. "Huh. And it feels good?"

"I guess. I mean, I think people normally do it faster."

"Like this?"

And then, before I can say or do anything, Rowan begins jerking me off. Leaning towards me from her perch on the bed, her hand clenched around my shaft, her eyes glimmering.

I give a small exclamation, partly from surprise and partly from what she's doing.

"That's better, isn't it," she cooes, grinning up at me knowingly before returning her focus to my, uhm, penis.

I steady myself, still standing, but more wobbly now that Rowan's hand is moving right along. "Yeah," I say, breathing heavily, "But should we be doing this right now? Like-"

"Shhh," she holds a finger to her lips.

"Rowan, I don't think I-" I try to warn her, but it's too late.

Cum shoots from the tip as I grit my teeth.

Rowan yelps and falls back onto the bed.

I survey the aftermath. It's mostly on the side of my bed and the floor.

Rowan inspects her hand, then looks up, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "You got me."

"Sorry," I blurt. "I didn't mean to...I just-"

"I know," she says. "I didn't think it would be that...sudden."

She giggles a little, and wipes her hand on my bedspread.

I'm about to dress when she says, "I'm gonna try again. Come closer." Sitting cross-legged, she reaches out for me.

Confident now, her hand begins sliding back and forth along my length. I think I hear myself groan a little, and hope it doesn't sound too weird.

Then I see her other hand reach into her lap, and I know that, with her, I don't have to worry about being embarrassed.

"Rowan," I caution as she begins stroking across her leggings while simultaneously jerking me off. If Sara walked in on us right now...

Her breaths deepen as she watches my stiff cock.

My eyes are in her lap, staring as her fingers poke and prod around the stretchy purple fabric. Is she wearing anything underneath the leggings? I don't think so.

We happen to moan at the same time, and another round of giggles breaks out. This disrupts Rowan's rhythm momentarily, but she resumes with gusto.

As the scene unfolds before me, a billion thoughts fill my mind. Is this right? Does she 'like' me? Do I 'like' her? Where does this end? And what happens to us when it does?

As I ejaculate for the second time, she holds out both hands in an effort to shield herself and the bed. I finish, and sink onto the bed beside her.

She raises her palms to me, "Look!"

They're covered in cum. She turns them around, gazes at them, and is about to wipe them on my bedspread. She decides not to dirty it further, and eventually clasps them and lets them drift down into her lap.

"So," she takes a breath. "How does it feel to have someone else do it?"

I prop myself up on my elbow and grin at her.

"Come find out."

Her mouth drops open, then morphs into an eager smile.

She scoots her feet toward me. One goes under me, through the gap between the bed and my body caused by my elbow. I hoist the other across my thigh.

Rowan is giddy; her dress has ridden up as she slid, and her crotch is on full display.

She tilts up on her elbows and looks down her body.

"Okay. I'm ready."

I meet her eyes to make sure that this is what she wants.

It is.

I rest my hand on her knee, and then run it slowly up her thigh. She flinches.

"Sorry, I-" A nervous laugh escapes from her mouth. "I'm excited." She pauses, and then, as my hand reaches the top inside of her thigh, she can contain herself no longer.

"Jake, I think I love you!"

I slide my fingers across her, and she sucks in a breath.

"I think I love you," I say, and do it again.

And again.

And again.

The purple leggings are soft and slick, and Rowan's body is warm. Her body begins to respond to my touch as a hushed noise flutters from her mouth.

My own genitalia is erect, and it bores into the bedspread.

Rowan's head tips backward as I run my middle finger up the center of her swelling. Then I bring it back down. The purple is turning a deeper shade as her natural lubricant is aroused.

"You're perfect," I whisper. Her head raises back up. Her mouth hangs open as she gazes down at herself.

I press the tip of my finger against her slit, and she whimpers.

My rhythm increases in speed, and she sinks down onto the bed, letting her elbows collapse and her head face the ceiling.

By this time, I've gotten a good idea of where her sensitive spots are, and within a minute or so, she's gasping.

I place the length of my index finger against the indentation in the fabric as she orgasms, feeling the dampness.

Then I retreat, running my hand down her thigh and then onto the bed. We don't speak, letting the moment soak in. Her breathing has slowed again, and gradually, she sits up.

"Hey Rowan," I ask. "Do you think I'm hot?"

She jumps on me, hugging me, her arms around my neck, pushing her body against mine. I'm on my back now, and she's sitting on my stomach.

"I'll take that as a 'maybe'," I wheeze.

"Uh...hello?"

The voice comes from the doorway.

Rowan's on her feet almost instantly, and stands in front of me as I sit up and cross my legs to try and hide my erection.

"Ruthie?" Rowan's voice is startled, and she's struggling to get it under control. "What're you doing here?"

Ruthie hesitates a moment before replying, "I just wanted to see Jake's room." She sounds like she's getting ready to cry. "I just..."

"Ruthie, it's okay," I speak up gently, having covered my lower region with a blanket. "You're okay." I pat the bed beside me, "Come on up."

Rowan steps aside to let her younger sister pass. I study Ruthie's face as she climbs up. What did she see? What does she know? I can't tell.

"Whaddya think?" I gesture around the room. "I know It's not pink, but..."

She's silent. Looking around; at the desk, and the closet, and the floor. Rowan clears her throat, and gives us a quick, forced smile, "I'd better go downstairs and keep Sara company."

"Jake?" Ruthie asks as her sister leaves. Her voice is curious, but cautious, "What were you guys doing?"

I keep my voice cheerful, "I was just showing her around my room." She stares after Rowan. I hesitate before asking, "Do you want the grand tour?"

"No," she says, sliding off the bed. "I'm gonna go downstairs."

"Okay," I take a deep breath. "Me too." I remember my current clothesless condition. "In a minute."

When I join the group downstairs a few minutes later, Ruthie is watching the television while Rowan and Sara chat. Rowan shoots me a smile as I walk up. Sara gives me a look that I interpret to mean, 'why were you up there for so long?'

"It's time to take you home," I announce.

"Awh," Rowan complains. "Already?"

"Sorry you girls can't stay longer," Sara says. Wow, she's doing a really good job at sounding polite. But if she knew what happened upstairs...

What did happen? And why? How?

Now isn't the time to ask questions, I tell myself. Over the years, I've perfected my method of dealing with things that make me uncomfortable: I just ignore them. And now is not the time to reevaluate that strategy.

"Attentioooon!" I call, remembering what Ruthie had said when we first met about playing soldiers.

I blink and she's on her feet.

"Face left!"

She does.

"March!"

As Ruthie marches toward the front door I offer Rowan my hand. She takes it and I pull her up.

"Don't worry," Sara says, "Maybe he can babysit you again sometime." She accentuates the 'babysit' just enough for it to come off sounding a little mean, but Rowan doesn't flinch.

"I'm not worried," she says with a smirk. "He will."

Sara holds me back, "What was that? What did she mean?"

"No idea," I say vaguely. "You know kids these days."

The girls are arguing about radio stations when I slide into the driver seat.

"Jake," Ruthie sighs, "Rowan won't let me listen to Radio Disney."

"Jake," Rowan mocks, "Rowan won't let me listen to Radio Disney."

"Jake! She's copying me!"

"Jake, she's-"

"Enough," I tell them, fiddling with my phone. "We're gonna listen to what I want, 'cause it's my car."

Our drive to the Clifton house is accompanied by the soulful sounds of the Boss. Rowan and I don't speak, but our thoughts are running wild.

We reach their home a few minutes ahead of schedule.

Ruthie hops out and runs up to the front door, waving goodbye behind her. Rowan opens the passenger door, but makes no move to exit the vehicle.

"Jake, I-"

"I'm sorry," I speak up. "For what happened back there. It wasn't-"

"No!" She glares at me, but then her gaze softens. "Why would you be sorry?"

"Because I-"

"No," she interrupts. "We. We did what we both wanted to do."

"But..." My words get all jumbled up in my head.

She waits patiently.

"I was your babysitter," I finally say. "And babysitters don't do what I did."

She's quiet for a moment.

"Rowan," I shake my head, "Ruthie saw us. What if she-"

"She won't."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'll make sure."

"But-"

"Here," she hands me a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"You have email, right? Write it down for me."

I do. An awkward silence follows.

"Well, bye," I say.

I've always sucked at saying goodbye.

She slides onto the pavement, then turns back, "Maybe a babysitter isn't what I need."

In the days that follow, I wait for an email. Or a call. Or a letter. Anything. But it's like they've forgotten all about me. Or cut all ties to me. Oh, Ruthie...

Sara tries to interest me in going to a film, or a restaurant, but I can't focus. My mind keeps going back to that afternoon in my room. The sound of her voice, the feel of her skin. Was it love? Are we in love? Can love exist between two people like us? I wasn't so sure before, but now?

I am.

I need her.

I break up with Sara a week later. We've been together since high school began, and she doesn't take the news well.

I'm lying in bed later that night, about nine o'clock, texting her for the hundredth time that I'm sorry. Then I hear a noise from the laptop on my bedside table.

I look up. It's an incoming Google Hangouts video call.

I hit 'answer'.

After a few seconds, Rowan's face appears on my screen. Her room is very dark and it's hard to make out her facial features. She's sitting on her bed in a tank top.

"Hello there," I say.

"Hi," she whispers, giving a little wave to the camera.

"It's about time." I pull the laptop onto my lap and sit up.

"Sorry," comes the reply. She isn't smiling.

"Hey. What's up?"

She looks away; shrugs.

"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Why haven't you guys called again? Why haven't-"

"I had to convince Dad to let me have his old laptop," she confides, leaning in and whispering. "I'm not allowed to use it at night. Also, I'm not allowed to videochat."

"Well, well," I smirk. "A little rebel."

"I'm not little!" She clamps her hand over her mouth and I snicker. She says it again, but quieter. Then she sticks her tongue out.

"That explains why you haven't emailed," I say. "But why haven't your parents called me to watch you? Did they suddenly become homebodies?"

She stops smiling and her head droops.

"Hey, what's wrong? What'd I say?"

"They've been too preoccupied to think about calling you."

"That's okay," I say. "Maybe we can-"

"No. It's not going to be okay!" Her voice cracks, "Jake, they're getting a divorce."

It takes me a few seconds to process this.

"I'm sorry." It's the first thing that pops into my head. "I mean, I know that doesn't mean anything, but..."

She's still not looking at the camera. "They've been fighting a lot, but I never thought..."

She gulps, "When you dropped us off at home, we found Dad. And he wasn't alone."

"What, you mean...you walked in on him and-"

"And a woman. Not Mom."

She talks about it for a few more minutes. There isn't much I can say, which is good, because I think she just needs someone to listen.

When we've had enough depression for the evening, our talk turns to other things.

"When can I see you again?" I ask.

"I dunno," she replies. Then, "Do you even want to? I mean, you could've called us. You could've come over. You never-"

"Of course I do! Rowan, I...I broke up with Sara."

Her head jolts up, "Seriously?"

I nod. "I didn't want to mess anything up. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know that I love you. I didn't call or anything because of Ruthie; I was scared that she might've told someone."

Rowan relaxes, "She hasn't said anything."

Then she smiles, rises up on her knees, and scoots toward the camera.

The tanktop is the only thing on her.

"We might not see each other in person for a while," she whispers, "but that doesn't mean we have to wait to be together."