The Wedding Club

Six•

Hannah's POV

Hannah knock out of it, staring at your phone all morning will not make him call at all. I said to myself failing miserably at convincing myself that George would call almost immediately.

I mean he was a busy boy, maybe he just collected my number because I fangirled out all over his dad's restaurant.

Maybe.

Staring at my phone all morning will not help matters even a little bit. It was a hopeless cause. We weren't meant to be, it was a big fat coincidence. That's all. Yep. That was all it was. A big fat coincidence. He probably has a girlfriend or betrothed, something in that direction.

I rolled off the side of my bed, landing in the soft cushioning of my cream rug. Ugh, let me just stay here the entire summer long wallowing in my sorrows.

"Han! Han! Breakfast is ready!" My mum's voice bounced off my rooms walls.

"Get up girlie, food." Meshach, my older brother poked his head through my slightly open door." What are you doing on the floor?"

"Wallowing." I said and rolled on my side, facing away from him.

Meshach laughed, and positioned himself on my bed. "Why?"

"My life-" I drawled"- is a complete dog shit pile."

"Eh?" He continued laughed this time his was vibrating like an alarm clock.

"Yes." I declared. "That is what is it, exactly."

He made quotation marks in air." How dearest sister how?"

"Forget it."

"Bullshitty." He knocked me on the head. "Now tell big brother everything."

"Well, Funmi goes to Ogun state today and George Wilson."

"Wetin consine me with Fumni... You talk say boy?" Meshach eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Nothing."

"That's not nothing, Hanny." He looked at me sternly. "A boy is not nothing."

"It's nothing." I stood up and walked towards the door."Mummy is calling us for food."

"We will still talk about sha." He called after me." You can't avoid big brother Meshach forever."

Idiot.

For a sixteen year old he sure behaved like a six year old.

•

"Good morning dad, mum." I said and took a seat in one of the chairs.

My dad was seated at the head of the dining table, a tablet in one hand a mug of coffee in the other. My mum was opposite him at the other end of the table, buttering her toast.

Daddy didn't look up from the tablet but muttered a quick how are you doing? Which I replied back. He was probably reading some article or something along the lines of that. He finished his cup of coffee, adjusted his red tie, straighten his suit. He kissed Mum on the forehead and waved us a good bye and walked out of the dining took to the main door for work.
Mummy on the other hand the little crinkles at the corners of her mouth showing as she smiled at me, her green eyes dancing playfully.

"Morning Hanny. How did you sleep?" She said taking a bite out of her buttered toast.

"Pretty good. The ac made me sleep even better." Lies. It was all lies. I was staring/stalking at George Wilson's Instagram page all night long like some creep.

"I hope you didn't turn it up to the highest, young lady? You know how you get with colds." She accused pointing her bread knife at me.

"I didn't do that, mummy I swear." I put my palms together and smiled sweetly. The ac wasn't even on.