Poly: A Day in the Life (Completed)

Perfectionist

A/N: A lot of the dialogues for this story will be in Jamaican creole, while the internal monologues will be mostly in English. If you don't understand something, please ask.
This story will have reeeeaaaallllyyyy short chapters, probably no more than 1k words, and it isn't a long book. This is done so that it feels like an actual story rather than a three part special, since each chapter will have its own name and will be different from the last and the next. I hope you guys enjoy this one.

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"Shit!" I shout as I rise into a sitting position on my king sized bed. Most people would do something like gently sit up, yawn, stretch, and greet anyone in their presence with a "Good morning". Not me, though.

Of course, it just has to be Peter sitting beside me when I wake up. Yay, for my f*cking luck.

"Yuh good?" he asks, his eyebrows creased in concern. Sometimes when it comes to Peter, I have to be very careful about what I say and express around him, because he can read me like a goddamn book.

"Yeah," I say to him, stretching. "Uh, where's Gemma?" I ask him, because she is what I need right now. I need to talk to her, really f*cking badly.

"In di living room, wid Alex. Dem a  watch Black Lightning on Netflix. Yuh nuh alright, don't it?" he asks me, analysing me with his rich brown eyes, his kinky hair pointing in every direction. I would kiss him, but I know that I'd probably kill him with my morning breath.

"I'm fine," I reply, rolling out of bed, almost falling on my face, catching myself on the side of the bed when Peter grabs my arm.

"Thanks," I tell him awkwardly, before I stand on my feet and head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. It's official: I'm freaking out. Looking in the mirror, under the bright fluorescent lights that I flicked on on my way in, I can see my sanity cracking in my eyes, I can see that I'm losing it. The fact that my hair is a mess, shooting out everywhere as if I've just been electrocuted makes it worse.

Peter's birthday is tomorrow, and things are not going as planned. I got him a present, brand new rims for his car, but the person who was supposed to make him his Ferrari themed cake is off the island. It's probably what I was most excited about. Then, there's the issue of the wedding reception at Alambra Inn tomorrow, the ideal place for his party. So that got screwed.

According to Alex, I overthink things. He said as much yesterday when I complained about my concerns.

"Mi know Petes well," he said while chewing enthusiastically on some cheetos. "Mi know seh him nuh business 'bout dem t'ings deh. The present is enough," he told me, "an' him know seh yuh love him, so a nuh nuh'n."

He's right, of course. I know that. It's just that I'm a bit of a perfectionist. Always have been, and if things don't go exactly the way that I planned them, I freak out.

Taking a few deep breaths, I exit the bathroom, and hurry to the living room without even as much as a backward glance at Peter.

"Gemma," I say as I walk past her, curled up in Alex's lap on one of humongous creme coloured couches that I insisted on. They're large enough for all four of us to sleep comfortably on them, which we do sometimes after binge watching shows. She jumps up without asking any questions, and follows me to our preferred meeting place: the kitchen. I'm grateful that she's the kind of person who knows to not ask too many questions in the wrong place, but rather she just knows when something is wrong. The boys know to not interfere with us when we're in the kitchen, so we don't have to worry about that.

"What's wrong?" she asks in a slightly, but not very concerned voice, but from the look in her eye, I can tell that she already knows.

I say it anyway.

"Peter," I mumble, feeling dumb as I say it.

She narrows her eyes and looks off into the distance, knowing that telling me not to worry won't work. When she gets an idea, she looks back to me and smiles.

"We can have it at Martin's house."

Fuck.

Martin is one of many of Alex's asshole friends. I don't like him, but the other three do. He's a misogynistic prick, but he's also a loyal friend. I guess I judge him a bit harshly, but it's easy to dislike someone like him. Aside from that, he's like a brother to Alex. This isn't the only reason Gemma is suggesting him; he's quite wealthy, and owns a mansion, and a 50 metre swimming pool. It would actually be the perfect place for the party, now that I think about it, especially since Peter loves to swim.

"Okay," I concede, "but how are we going to arrange this on such short notice?" She doesn't look even the least bit bothered. In some ways, she's my polar opposite. In a way, it's one of our strengths.

"Alex and I will help you," she says as if it's the simplest thing on earth. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Right now it feels as if things are complicated, as if they're hard hard lemon hard, but who knows? Maybe I'm wrong, after all. It would really be a relief if I am.

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A/N. Nope, that's not my expression 🤣I think I got it from a meme, idr.
Until next time,
~Aliyah 💋