my mother's friend's son [Mark]

In the evening your parents called you for a talk.

They sat at the kitchen table with serious expressions. Mom looked at you carefully, as if choosing her words:

— We're leaving for a week. “And please,” added the father , “no parties, no noisy companies, and no strangers in the house.”

You were already rejoicing at the silence and freedom, when your mother added:

"My friend's son is coming to visit you. He'll be staying with us until we return."

You grimaced.

— Seriously?.. I don't even know him. And why do I need anyone in the house anyway?

But it was impossible to convince the parents otherwise. Their decision was final.

The next morning you spent the whole day walking around the house irritably, tidying up, angry at the whole situation. And then the doorbell rang.

You reluctantly approached and opened the door. A tall guy stood at the threshold—he looked to be about 18 or 19 years old, with a backpack slung over his back. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his gaze was calm and confident. He looked at you silently, as if assessing you, and then raised an eyebrow slightly:

— Am I going to stand in the doorway like this?

You couldn't help but feel at a loss for words. He clearly felt at ease.