Sweetheart

6

Lizzie
August 2020

"So, how are things there?"

I haven't missed my mom's voice one bit. She always sounds like she's judging my every breath. She probably is.

A few minutes ago I got her call, and I quickly picked up, even though I was in the shower. That explains why I'm pacing around my bedroom with a towel on and a hand anxiously wrapping a strand of hair around my finger.

"Good. I like it," I reply dryly. "How about you? How's LA?" Have people forgotten about my mistake?

My mom's answer is short. "Bad."

I sigh, sitting on my bed. "Are they still harassing you and dad?"

"Yes, Elizabeth. Of course, they are. What did you expect?" she snaps at me, and I'm so glad she's not here. I know she'd slap me across the face if she could. "You lie low there, do you hear me? No boys and shit. Understood?"

I close my eyes, brushing my eyebrows with my fingers, feeling a headache forming at my temples. "Yes, Mom. I get it. I'm not a little kid."

"And yet you act like one," she bites back. "Focus on school. Don't disappoint us any more than you've already done."

I scoff bitterly. "Bye." I hang up before she says it back. Irritated, I let out a heavy breath, lying back on the mattress. My mom's such a bitch.

Afraid that someone might walk in on me basically naked on the bed, I stand up and grab some clothes. Today's a bit chilly, so I wear some sweatpants and a top with a hoodie over it. I look out the window and notice that the sky is gray. It'll rain soon.

I head downstairs, petting Milo as I run into him in the living room. Grace is home today, watching some TV show on the couch.

"Good morning," I say, waving at her when she turns around with a smile.

"Hey, Liz! You sleep well?" she asks, and I nod. "There are some waffles in the kitchen. I made them an hour ago, so you might want to heat them a bit," she informs me.

"Thanks!"

I step into the kitchen and grab two big waffles, setting them on a plate and waiting for them to get hot in the microwave for a minute. When the machine beeps, I take my breakfast out and sit at the table, sipping some orange juice along with my waffles.

I spread some jam on them, and I know that every Canadian person would shoot me if they found out I don't like maple syrup.

As I'm cutting through my second waffle, a hoarse voice says, "Morning."

I look up and smile at Nate's sleepy face. Then, I gawk at his bare chest. Holy Virgin Mary. I almost choke on a bite. "Ahem. Hey." He smirks and sits in front of me. "Waffles?" I ask, closing up the plate with the tower of square sweets.

He grabs two with a thank you and eats them cold. Yikes. As he's chewing, Grace walks in and snorts. "Nate, for God's sake, put a shirt on. I don't want Lizzie to go blind," she comments.

I chuckle, and Nate replies, "I'm sure she doesn't mind the view. Am I right, Lizzie?"

Grace doesn't let me answer. "Fine. Then put it on for me. My eyes would rather be boiled in lava," she jokes, making me laugh again.

"I feel bullied," he mumbles, getting up and leaving. He comes back wearing a shirt. "Happy?"

"Very."

Nate looks around, and I can't stop myself from studying his side profile. "Hey, Mom, where's Aaron? The little shit has to make lunch today."

Grace spins on herself and throws a look at Nate. "Nathaniel Castle, that is not how I raised you. You better start treating Aaron like a brother, before I kick your ass with a spatula, do you understand me?" she scolds her son, pointing at him with the utensil. Nate looks away, refusing to answer. "Do you understand me, Nate?" she repeats with a harsh voice.