Bad Timing

Sette

Not completely edited *

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It shouldn’t come as a surprise to many people anymore, but I was having yet another argument with the devil’s spawn.

“Can I do my homework later?” Maia whined, plugging her pink earphones back into her ears. “Please? Mom just bought me this One Direction CD and I have to listen to every single song.”

“Can’t you do your homework and listen to music at the same time?” I reasoned, holding her folder in front of her face. “You only have one. Just get it done and over with.”

Maia shook her head vigorously. “No,” she simply responded. “I have to focus on the songs.”

I rolled my eyes as she bobbed her head to the music, singing the lyrics to “Story of my Life”. Before I met Maia, I had nothing against the five British men. In fact, I thought they were pretty good. But when you were forced to listen to their songs every hour you were stuck with one of the annoying fans, you wanted nothing but to rip your ears off.

“Maia, I will take away your MP3,” I warned.

“Please,” Maia pleaded, clasping her hands together. “Pretty please with a cherry, strawberry, raspberry, blueberry and ding – another berry on top?”

“You could listen to it after you do your homework.”

“Fine,” Maia sighed in defeat. She took a pencil from her pencil holder and reluctantly took her History homework out of her folder.

“And you better do it good,” I added. “I want all your effort. Not half of it.”

However, before Maia could even write her name on the worksheet, Natalia stuck her head into Maia’s room with her big smile. “Guys, dinner is ready! C’mon, I want to see you two downstairs in five minutes.”

I resisted the urge to groan at the bad timing. I spent ten minutes trying to convince Maia to do her homework and when she decided to finally work on it, it was dinner time. Nevertheless, I simply smiled back at Natalia and told her we’d be downstairs by then.  

After Maia and I washed our hands, we made our way to the big dining room. My mouth watered at the sight of pasta and salad placed on the dark mahogany table. The smell of the tasty looking pasta surrounded me and my stomach growled involuntarily.

Paul was already sat at one end of the table and Natalia sat opposite of him. Maia and I plopped down beside each other. It somewhat didn’t surprise me that Noah wasn’t sitting in his chair yet.

“Pasta again?” Maia teased, but smiled at her mom. “But thank you for making my favorite pasta.”

“The food looks delicious,” I complimented, eyeing the white pasta.

Natalia, who sat perfectly and properly in her seat, smiled kindly at me. “Thank you, Emma. I only make Italian dishes because they’re the only things I know how to cook. I think my husband and kids get sick of it.”

My eyebrows rose in confusion. “If you don’t mind that I ask – why do you only cook Italian dishes?”

“Oh,” Natalia giggled. “I’m Italian, honey.”

Well that explains her particular accent, aristocratic and gorgeous face, and her enviable slim figure. Natalia was striking.

“Where is that boy?” Paul asked in annoyance after five minutes of sitting at the table.

It was then that I realized how Paul and Noah looked so much alike. Their eyebrows knitted together the same way. Their eyes were different shades of blue, but blue nonetheless. Noah had his father’s cheekbones and tall figure. I think the only thing Noah picked up from his mother’s genes was her hair color. It kind of freaked me out that Noah was the carbon copy of his father.