The Dating Game [ON HOLD]

Chapter 1

Note: Lauren sometimes calls Camila ‘Karla’ and ‘Cabello’.

Chapter 1: The Interview & the Number

I woke up with the sound of my alarm clock blaring. I huffed at the annoying sound that indicates it’s finally Monday. Monday means The Dating Game will be having their interviews. I still can’t wrap my head around at the idea of this game. Who the hell even invented this? It’s actually pretty destructive in my perspective.

Because what if your pair fell in love with you, but the feelings were not reciprocated? Then that’s fucked.

Anyway, thinking about this made me forgot about my alarm clock who’s still ringing and annoying the shit out of me.

“Lauren can you turn off your alarm?” my mom yelled downstairs.

“I’m still sleeping!” I yelled back with the sleepiest voice I have ever mustered.

I haven’t heard a response so I expected that mom had believed my lame excuse. But not even a minute later, mom came bursting through the doors, her hands on her hips as she looked at me. I immediately closed my eyes and didn’t move even though she has already seen my eyes wide open.

“Get up, young lady,” she spoke in a motherly tone.

It was worth a try though, “Mom, I’m already up,” I muttered, facing the other side of the room.

“It’s Monday. You don’t have the right to act lazy.”

“But I am lazy,” I pressed, “Besides, Monday doesn’t have the right to be Monday.”

“What are you even saying?” confusion was heard on her voice, “I swear, sometimes I think you’re crazy. Get up, or else I’ll confiscate your car keys for arriving home at 2 AM,” she said before she left my room.

My eyes widen, “How did you even know I came home at that time?” I yelled, standing up from my bed.

“It’s because I have watch, dumbass,” she yelled back.

I rolled my eyes at her response. I sometimes think that my mother isn’t really 47 years old. Because most of the time, she acts eighteen. Ugh, her sarcasm and smart remarks really gets under my skin. But oh well, she’s still my mom and I love her.

I turned my alarm clock off before entering my bathroom. After taking a bath and getting dress, I went downstairs with my leather jacket hanging from my shoulder.

“Good Morning sis,” Chris greeted me cheerfully.

“Yeah yeah,” I waved him off, not bothering to say it back. I grabbed a piece of toasted bread from the table and took some juice from the fridge before slipping out of the kitchen.

“You’re not even going to take breakfast?” Taylor emerged from her room, her sunglasses safely placed on top of her head.

I raised the piece of bread to her face. She swatted the bread off her face resulting to slipping it off my grasp. I gasped as I saw my bread lying on the floor, dead and cold.

“Look at what you did!” I looked at her in horror, “You’re a murderer!”

“Lauren why are you calling your sister a murderer?” my mom peek her head out of the kitchen, looking at us.

“She killed my bread,” I whined childishly knowing it annoys Taylor to death to see me act like a child.

My mom gasped dramatically, “Taylor! I did not raise you to be a murderer!”