Wrong Century 《 Shawn Mendes AU 》

SCOTT ( 1 )

part one

" So, this Log Cabin that we're going to... What does it look like? " I randomly asked, in an attempt to start a conversation with my parents, who had been having their eyes either glued to the phone or the road from the very beginning of this trip. The only time they ever 'talked' to each other was when my Dad almost ran over a stray trying to cross the road.

The whole conversation lasted approximately 30 seconds long. It started off with:

" GERALD, keep your eyes on the road! You almost ran over that poor dog! " screeched Mom.

And ended off with:

" WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING. You think I know that the dog was going to run across the road at that exact time? I'm not a fortune teller, for Christ sake. " retorted Dad.

After the 'conversation' ended, it was back to the awkward silence. Except this time, there was addition of tension in the air. I had to increase the volume of the music to drown out the uncomfortable silence. By now, Celine Dion was practically screaming in my ears about how there's nothing to be feared and that her heart will always go on.

I had chills running down my spine. Not from her beautiful voice but from the loudness of the music that was soon going to be the cause of my death, or should I say deaf. HAHA.

That was a good one. No?

Unfortunately, I wouldn't say so about my attempt at creating a conversation with my parents.

In fact, it wasn't only the opposite of 'good', it was DISASTROUS.

Instead of what I expected to hear, which was my Dad going on and on about the Log Cabin and reassuring me that it's going to be oh so amazing and beautiful with a clear view of the flowing creek and friendly owner who happened to have a son who happened to attend college and is hot plus single.

All I get was a simple shrug and a " You'll see. "

On the other hand, my Mom doesn't even show any sign of interest. She was too busy typing away on her phone.

My guess is that she's either playing her usual game of Candy Crush or gossiping about whatever middle age lady gossip about.

I purposely sighed a little too loudly for them to hear and stared out the backseat window to watch the rows and rows of trees goes by.

Somehow, it was more entertaining than watching my Mom use her phone and my Dad silently driving, mind wandering off to who knows where.

Bark, bark!

Benny, the fluffy Pomeranian, barked from the back of the car.

I felt tiny licks on my cheeks and couldn't help but smile when I hear his enthusiastic breathing and jumping as he tried to reach for my cheeks.

I twist my body around to pick up the hyper Pomeranian who has just awoken from his hours long nap and bring him to the front seat with me.

He was so excited, he couldn't stop jumping up and down on my lap.

He's clearly more excited about this trip than those two, you know who.

The car made a turn at the path leading up the hill. In the far distance, still within my range of sight, a big wooden cabin stood right smack at the top of the hill, surrounded by trees and other smaller cabins.

That must be the registration area.

My Dad carefully parked the car at the designated parking area and told us to carry our own luggage while he switched off the engine and get ready the booking papers.