Nike is a nerd, and a jerk. A jerk that says, does, whatever is the most harmful for a reaction.
Tristan is a player. One that makes up stories along the way with every lover of his, and with multiple people at that.
The two have hated each other s...
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"Wake up Nike!"
"I'm awake!" I put the smelly blanket over my face, holding my nose tightly.
"No, you're not!"
For once in my life, I missed Wilhelmina waking me instead of noisy Sawaya.
She would not make me deaf instantly with her disgraceful voice, she would make me want to be deaf!
"Nike!" Sawaya yells, again this time a distance away from my previous ears.
"I'm getting up, give me a second!"
"What minute? Your plane back is going to be landing in an hour," he shouts.
"We just came a day ago!" I shout back.
I relax and close my eyes. The dream I had isn't waiting for me. My memory drains away, it reminisces every screaming second.
I sigh and turn over. My stomach rolls around.
"What's for breakfast?"
"Pudding with apricots and pineapples," says a voice, mom's voice.
I groan, putting my face deep into the pillow.
Why did we always have to have the weirdest things for breakfast? Why was I born into this family?
Can't wait till I'm twenty-five, get married and get a job and a house on the other side of the world from this invading family.
It wouldn't be the best place to live, because they've invaded all of which are, so I'll settle down for the next best.
"Get up," mom yells, getting into the room.
"I'll be making my own breakfast" I say, getting up.
Mom arches her eyebrows; a smile forms on her face.
"Yeah, yeah," she says, trying to hold back her laughter.
Mom sucks at controlling herself, unfortunately I have followed her unruly path of self-destructive.
"Don't make anything complicated for you, just simple eggs."
"Yes, yes mom," I said walking out of the room.
I'm going to make pancakes.
I walk into the kitchen, open the cabinets, and grab the ingredients and tools I need to make the pancakes, I put them down, and look for the vanilla extracting.
"Aunty, where's the vanilla extract?"
"Nike didn't I just tell you no pancakes?!"
"Sorry, kind of slipped out of my mind," I chuckle trying to hold in the laughter that threatened to get out, it holds back.
"Vanilla extract has alcohol in it," aunty states matter-of-factly as she steps into the kitchen.
