Vivi

Chapter 33

Ivy

"Mom," I mutter. "Mom, stop it!" I swat her hands away from my head.

It's seven thirty in the morning and my mother just decided to visit her children. She didn't even knock, just walked right in using the key she threatened Dean to give her. Obviously, Dean came out of his bedroom, half asleep, swinging with a comb in hand.

"Your hairs a mess."

I stare at my mom like she has five heads before speaking. "I just woke up, thinking someone broke in."

"Oh, please. You must've heard my heels and I haven't met a single person who could fight two people in heels."

"I could've killed you," Dean points out.

"With a comb?" mom asks with a raised eyebrow. I snort out a laugh at her expression.

"How vain are you? You keep a comb on your nightstand?" I question, laughing at my brother.

Dean huffs and puffs. "I was taking a piss and my comb was in the bathroom."

"You were in the bathroom and you grabbed a comb instead of, I don't know, hairspray and a lighter."

I laugh, but stop when I realize that Dean and my mom are staring at me.

"You're sick, Icy," Dean comments.

"Terrifying, truly," my mother adds with a delicate hand placed below her neck in horror.

"What's so sick and terrifying about that?"

"The fact that you thought so quickly," Mom informs me.

"Mom would be burnt to a crisp," Dean adds.

"Why are we focusing on my thought when Dean was the one swinging?" I try to redirect the conversation. They both shake their heads at me like I'm not getting away with it.

"You're too much like your father," Mom claims as she continues to shake her head with a sad smile, playing with her dainty necklace that I'm ninety percent sure my dad gave her before they were married.

"Not possible," Dean retorts.

River

My dads laughing at me, he covers his mouth with a hand so my mom doesn't see though. He's sitting on his bed while Mom and I are standing in the doorway of their bathroom. I don't know what's so fucking amusing though. Last time I checked, my dad followed my mom around like a puppy for a whole year before they dated. I shoot him a look that says just that and he narrows his eyes at me.

"This is unnecessary," I protest as my mom unscrews the cap of my dad's hair gel.

"You want to look nice on your knees," mom claims and I roll my eyes with a sigh as my dad starts quietly laughing again. "Are you really planning on wearing that?" she asks while looking over my black jeans and navy blue t-shirt. I follow her eyes, seeing nothing wrong.

"Yes?" I say like a question.

My mom shakes her head like my answer was wrong. "No, you're not," she protests.

"You can keep the jeans on, but you'll be wearing a nice sweater. Maybe even some dress shoes to jazz it up."

She begins running gel through my hair, I bend down when I see her struggling. My dad laughs louder.

"What's so funny, Rick?" my mom asks, venom in her voice. My dad stops laughing immediately. "I know you can't be laughing at your son begging for the Myles girl's attention considering you did the same for a whole month."