A Kiss Under The Mistletoe

Chapter 18: Moment Killer

"You're like a grey sky. You're beautiful, even though you don't want to be."
— Jasmine Warga, My Heart and Other Black Holes

I've decided that it's official, I hate children.
Babies.
Kids.
Those little humans.
I now hate them. I don't tolerate them anymore. I despise them. I loathe them. All those disliking adjectives.
Those disgusting little homunculuses, or homunculi?

"I swear that I would never say this but, oh my God, Mary. Look at Fiona, she just," he made a fist and pointed it at his mouth, "and, woah, I admire you kid." I looked at them and rolled my eyes.

Why do I hate them so much? Well let's rewind.

Charlotte was, actually still is, really stupid for volunteering to babysit our little cousins in the weekend. Those little cousins came from my mom's side, her younger sister, Auntie Julie. My parents and the little devils' parents are going to have a little vacation from their children. My dad suggested to Aunt Julie, Lily, our childhood babysitter but Charlotte volunteered to babysit them.
In our house.
Overnight.
In two days.
And two nights.
Dam her.

It's been two weeks since the incident. Those two weeks were kind of a blur. Today is Friday and despite the horror that my little cousins were coming this morning, things are really going well between Luke and I. We talk in between classes, and we text each other.

The other day, we leveled up into calling each other. Is this really what friends do? I can't remember the stage when Esme and I were like this. Because of this sudden change in my life, I was behind my reading goal. Therefore I compromised to myself to read three chapters a night before talking to Luke. I'm still way behind my schedule but at least I'm reading.

I was eating breakfast with my dad calmly while my mom was running around the house frantically.

"Have you seen my charger, hun?" yelled my mom from upstairs.

I sipped my coffee and glanced at my mom's charger sitting on the table. "Ma, it's here!"

"Where?"

"Here on the table, of course," I said impatiently.

"Help her, you know she'll just yell at us where the other stuffs are," muttered my dad.

"But Charlotte helps mom pack things, not me."

"Is Charlotte here?"

"No," I sighed and rolled my eyes. Now that she's gone, I'm the Charlotte now. Darn it. I stood up, drank my coffee in one shot and went to mom.

"Do you any help?" I asked when I was hovering beside my mom. She was shoving in more clothes in her suitcase.

"You do know that you'll only be gone in the weekend, right?"

"Yes, but Gwen, you do know that your father is just sitting calmly and... Well, he's your father," she reasoned. Okay, point taken.

"Just baby-proof the living room please, if you still have time." I looked at my wrist watch to check and I still do have some time.

I left my mom to "baby-proof" the living room even though I have no idea what she meant by that. I removed all things made out of glass and shoved them in the closet room, under the staircase. I smiled when I entered the room, the memories of my childhood in this room replayed in my head.