Fucking The Babysitter Here

She padded upstairs, IPA still in hand (don’t judge, she was an adult), and found Leo sitting up in bed, his hair a nest of static.

For the parents, babysitting was about safety. For Chloe, a 22-year-old theatre minor drowning in student loan debt, it was about something else entirely: the lifestyle. The Harts weren't just a client; they were a prime entertainment ecosystem. The dad was a craft-beer executive, which meant the fridge held four varieties of IPA that cost more than her textbooks. The mom was a former indie film publicist, which meant the streaming queue was curated, ad-free, and glorious. fucking the babysitter

But as she unlocked the door to her own shoebox apartment—the one with the flickering hallway light and the roommate who never did dishes—she realized the truth. She padded upstairs, IPA still in hand (don’t

“Bad dream,” he whispered.

“It’s 9:30.”