Ch. 1: OliMature

Oli felt his phone vibrating. It was next to his head on his pillow and it had woken him up. He checked it; it was another text from Mel.

'I'm not sorry.' It said.

He dismissed it, deleting it. He threw the phone at the opposite wall, screaming. She had been such a bitch to him lately that it was getting to him and now she had left him for the third time that month. He knew that it was only a matter of time before she came crawling back. He groaned as he pulled the blanket over his face.

He fell back to sleep and was only woken when a glass of water was poured over his head.

"You're a tosser." He muttered, opening his eyes to see his step-brother.

"I try." he replied, grinning his boyish smile.

"What do you want?" Oli grunted.

"Nothing." Darrel replied jovially. "But Liz needs you."

"Tell her I'll be right there." he muttered, throwing the blanket off of him.

"Yeah but put some clothes on first eh?" Darrel winked as he looked down. Oli followed his gaze and swore. "Should I say five minutes?"

Oli nodded before dashing into the en-suite. Ten minutes later he came out, fully dressed. "Mum?" he yelled down the corridor.

"You ready Oli?" she said in her calm voice. He followed the sound to the kitchen where his mother was frantically trying to sort out the broken toaster and also sift through the fridge for the new milk.

"Want some help?" he offered, taking the toaster and picking up a knife. She didn't turn to face him but still smiled. He thrust the knife in and rummaged around, ignoring the minor shock that he received. A minute later he realised that he had no clue what he was doing and so put it down before it could do anymore damage. Stella pulled the milk out, holding it up triumphantly.

"Coffee?" she offered, flicking the kettle on.

"No thanks. What did I need to be ready for?" he asked, watching his finger twitch a little. He screwed up his face and sat down.

"We're going to school." she said, burning her tongue on the coffee.

"Oh." He nodded. "I best get changed then." He darted into his room, throwing his joggers off. He pulled on something he deemed more acceptable before checking up on his phone.

He had a new message. It was from Mel again.

'He's better than you.' He instantly knew what it meant and threw it again, listening out for the audible crack as it broke but it never came.

The End

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