Unfit to be a mother

Unfit to be a Mother: 18 ~The Winter Ball~

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Chapter 18

            “I hate you so much right now,” I muttered into his neck. Dylan was so warm and soft. Like a giant, muscular teddy bear. He smelled good too.

            “Ah!” Madeline cooed, taking yet another picture. It had to be at least the fifth time she dropped by to tell us how cute we were together. I’d only been there for a half hour and that was because I was in pain. I was usually good at ignoring the Braxton Hicks since I’d had them a few more times since the first time, but I was having a hard time that day.

            “Mom,” Dylan groaned, pulling me tighter to him, “Go away.”

            “Sorry, sorry, you’re just too cute together.” She took another picture of us together and skipped away happily.

            “I’m beginning to think she’s too happy about me getting you knocked up.” Dylan watched her retreating figure and turned back to me as soon as she was out of sight. “Now why do you hate me?”

            “Because you won’t rub my back,” I grumbled. I’d asked his numerous times but her wouldn’t. We’d been acting very much like a couple the past few days. We didn’t bother to acknowledge the fact that we were in love or even bother to say we were a couple. People just assumed it. We just let them think whatever they wanted. We were expecting a baby in a few days’ time, we didn’t have time to add labels to our relationship.

            “And you’re making me go to the dance tonight,” I tacked on. I hated how dances were always on Saturdays. It was total crap. Why should I waste my weekend and seven dollars to go listen to crappy music, drink some spiked punch, and watch girls dance like sluts? Granted I used to be one of the slutty dancers… but that was from the middle school days.

            “It was your idea,” he reminded me. “And to get your back massage, you have to take your shirt off.” Dylan winked and started fingering the hem of my shirt.

            I sighed, “Fine, I’ll just go home and start getting ready.” Sorry to Dylan, I was a bit to pregnant for sexual activity.

            “She’s got that right,” Tasha butted in, sticking her head into the doorway and peering into the dark room. My friend had obviously just walked over to find me seeing as there was still snow in her hair that hadn’t melted. “Get up, girl. Marissa is waiting with the curling iron.”

            “Sounds urgent,” I commented. I peck Dylan on the lips. “Got to go, Big daddy, only three hours until launch.” He pulled me in for a deeper kiss and let me go.

            “See you later, little momma!” He cried as we were walking out. I laughed.

            As Tasha promised, Marissa was waiting in my bathroom with a ton of hair products, a button down shirt, and a hot curling iron. I took off my sweater, T shirt and tank top and slid on the crisp button down shirt.

            Tasha said she already had a vision for my hair. She had already gotten her hair done, saying it need a ‘more delicate touch.’ I promptly rolled my eyes at her.

            Over the next hour, they turned every strand of hair into a dazzling curl and coated my hair with an entire can of hairspray. Tasha pinned one side back with a silver clip that had small white stones on it. The other side hung freely.