My name is Ethan, twenty-one, broke college sophomore who needed cash fast.
Babysitting wasn’t exactly on my radar, but when the ad popped up—generous pay, easy hours, live-in option for weekends I answered. The parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harper, both high-powered lawyers, traveled constantly. Their only daughter, Ava, was supposedly “almost grown,” a senior in high school who just needed someone around the house when they were gone.
I met Ava the day I interviewed. She opened the door in tiny sleep shorts and an oversized hoodie, long auburn hair messy like she’d just woken up, green eyes sharp and curious. Eighteen, curvy in all the right places, with a smile that felt way too knowing for someone still in high school. The parents barely noticed how she looked at me—lingering, sizing me up—
