Obito. (Your big brother's bff)

Not again. I heard his motorcycle engine before I could even hide in my room. That annoying roar that announced his arrival like he was a rock star… or a jerk with a rock star complex, more accurately.

"Hey, man! I'm here!" he shouted from the doorway as if he had trouble using the bell, or as if he needed the whole neighborhood to know he had arrived.

My older brother's stupid best friend. Again. With his lopsided smile, his leather jacket, and that unbearable air of "I know I'm more appealing than I should be."

He strolled into his own house, greeting my mother with a wink that she thought was charming, but that made me want to throw a slipper at him. My brother ran down the stairs, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for weeks.

I'm talking to Obito because he's my brother's best friend, but I hate him.