Back to the Beginning

Chapter 5

I could not stop smiling.

Like, seriously, I need to stop. This is embarrassing.

I couldn't stop thinking about him. His ridiculously blue eyes. His picture-perfect smile. Everything about him was just so...mmm.

Get a grip, Samantha, you don't even know the boy.

I shake my head, trying to get the thought of him out. I was unsuccessful.

I take one last turn on the block, my feet shuffling along the cold, wet sidewalk. I look up at the sky, seeing the clouds, I could tell we're going to have bad weather the whole weekend. I hug the warm jacket that was given to me only moments ago, and I do something really weird. No, like, really, really weird.

I sniffed it.

And boy, did it smell good.

My thoughts took me elsewhere, and suddenly, I was in my happy place. Thinking back at the conversation and feeling butterflies when I remember that I will be seeing him tomorrow.

I'd gotten to my house quicker than I thought I would, and when I unlocked the door with my spare key and made my way inside, I was greeted by the aroma of my favorite food.

I take in a deep breathe, my mouth water in the process. I walk to the kitchen, seeing my moms newly dyed hair in a bun and her shirt splattered with tomato sauce.

I point to her shirt and laugh the moment she focuses her gaze on me instead of the food. "Mom, what happened to you?" I chuckled, looking over the counter to see a clutter of kitchen utensils and random ingredients.

"Ah," she says as looks down at her spoiled shirt, "Well, I had an incident with the tomato sauce." She smiles at me sheepishly and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Do I want to know?" I ask, giving her an unsure look, scrunching my nose at the thought of sauce splattering on my mother.

"Probably not," she says bluntly, turning off the stove and running to the dinner table.

Mom went to grab the spaghetti from the stove and placed it in the middle of the table. She looked down at her handiwork, hands on her hips and grinning at the food.

Her eyes flicker up at me for just a second, and I saw a confused look on her face. She raised one eyebrow and looked at me suspiciously.

"Hmm. Sweetheart, where'd you get that coat?" She says, giving me a knowing smile and wiggling one of her eyebrows for what seemed like an hour.

"Ew, mom, that's so weird." I say, referring to her eyebrows, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Well, your father loved it, he was always upset that he could never wiggle only one eyebrow." My mom smiles at the memory, as do I. This is how we are; we openly talk about my beloved father and her beloved husband.

My mom snaps out of her gaze, looking back at me, and just like that, I feel my face heating up, knowing she wants to talk about the coat I currently had on.

"Alright. Spill. Who was it? Was he cute? He better have been cute, I do not want ugly grandchildre-"

"Mom!"

"What, your children can't get all their good looks from you. That's the problem with having children, it's like having to split your looks 50/50. It's weird." I stare at my mom, amused and confused. She takes a seat at the table, grabbing a plate and a fork before digging into her food.

I follow her and do the same thing, not wanting to go further in this conversation. But I had to talk to someone about it!

Should I go for it?