nefelibata (n.) | ✔️

twenty-six.

Present. December 25th, 2018.

Christmas. A child's favorite holiday. A dream come true. Gifts, all kinds of food, and family get-togethers. It's too bad once you get older, Christmas becomes a little more underwhelming, especially when your family invites your only friends family over for dinner. 

Not to mention, you and that friend still haven't spoken about this "doomed" kiss. Speaking of, Carson is ready to talk about it. And he's not letting me run away from it any longer.

Any time he'd bring it up; I'd ignore him or change the subject, but he isn't playing games anymore, and I have to stop hiding from him.

Honestly, I don't know what he expects. Does he expect me to be the type of girl to want to hold hands and do couple-like things? Do I even want to have a boyfriend? Does he even want me?

Merry Christmas, I guess.

I pull myself out of bed and shrug on some sweats, welcoming the warmth they bring, sheltering me from the cold air. I wrap a blanket around me and huff out a breath. God, It's so cold in here that I can practically see my breath. 

"Mom! Turn on the heat!" I shout as I lazily walk down the stairs.

"You're almost eighteen! Do it yourself." She responds, my dad's breathy chuckle sounding behind me.

"I got it, sweetie. Go get some breakfast." He kisses my forehead and heads to his room again. At least my mother remembered my birthday was coming up. 

As I jump down the small staircase, I hold my blanket on me as tight as I can, as if that will somehow make me warmer. "Eggs or pancakes?" My mother asks, turning around with a smile. 

"Uh, both. It's Christmas!" I bit my lip and smelled the delicious scent of Christmas breakfast. 

"Good point." My mother fills up a plate and places it in front of me, her festive Christmas plates and cups continually reminding me that it's Mom's favorite time of the year. Even her damn hairbrush has a Christmas tree on it. Yeah, a Christmas tree. 

I guess I can't complain because it's this point in the year where her attitude lifts and her hatred for life and the people in it subside a little. Not for life, just for me. Sometimes it makes me feel better if I exaggerate conditions, but it never does. 

"Merry Christmas Eve my beautiful girls," Dad says as he enters the kitchen. He pats my back and kisses Mom. I must say, Christmas is much better than Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was miserable. All anyone ever does is yell and ask pointless questions that they already have the answers to. "What's for breakfast?" 

"Eggs, pancakes, making some sausage now too." My mom lets her smile overtake her whole face now, probably mentally patting herself on the back for maintaining her 'good mom' attitude.

I get it, it's Christmas, and everyone tries to be happy on Christmas, but how can she just ignore how shitty everything is between our family when it isn't  Christmas? 

My thoughts fade away when there are three powerful knocks on the door, making my mother frown and my father furrow his brows and look in the direction of the door, yet no one moves. I roll my eyes, "I'll get it." 

I pull open the door, and my jaw drops. "Surprise! Tell me I'm the best Christmas gift, tell me!" I still haven't moved. I just stare at my best friend, standing with her arms out, a giant smile and snow melting in her hair. No. Way. 

She frowns. "This is a very underwhelming reaction. You know, I expected you to like, I don't know, scream!" I jump into her open arms and hug her, squeezing her tightly