Love has a rule. There is only a certain amount of hearts one can carry in their own hands without causing any damage to any of them. And that number is one.
When Lara Dias meets her idol, little did she know that when she went home that day, she al...
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Lara's POV:
In my home, it would be considered a... crime if you left the table without your stomach completely, utterly full. This rule was even more enforced on Christmas Eve, when my parents went all out on the food, as if the quality and quantity of it would decide on the fate of the world.
My dad was the one who made the main course, and when one entered a room he had just cooked, the smell was enough to make someone melt at how good it was. He always made turkey, which is typical in many countries for Christmas, however, the accompaniments were traditional from Brazil. He makes rice with raisins, farofa (I would explain what it is but I have no clue how to, farofa is...farofa), and although it's not traditional as part of Christmas food, he makes feijoada too, which is a stew of beans with beef and pork, very typically Brazilian. Then to complement, my mum would go crazy with the deserts, so much that I don't recall a single Christmas in which I actually managed to eat a little of everything: it was that much. Some of the options included brigadeiros and beijinhos with ingredients straight from Brazil, panettone (a cake with raisins), and even rabanadas, which is a sort of french toast, but not exactly so.
As I stood up to help my mum serve the deserts, I looked around. I smile to myself at the sight of all of these people that I love so much; everyone was happy, with a smile on their face. I am also certain that there isn't one person who hadn't loosened a button from their pants so to comfort their stuffed stomachs. I chuckled, knowing fully well that everyone is reconsidering dessert, but that once we'd place the food on the table, a new free space in their stomachs would magically materialize. I take my seat next to Tom, and start piling my plate with rabanadas. Tom sighs with satisfaction. "I don't know how I'm eating more, but I need that in my mouth right now." I chuckle as he narrows his gaze down at my plate. I pick one of them up, and hand it over to him.
Tom bites a piece right off my hand, and I startle myself. "Tom! You were supposed to take it, then eat it."
Chewing on the rabanada, Tom looks at me with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, I couldn't help it." He mumbles between his mouthfuls. Everyone on the table who had experienced the scene starts to laugh at Tom's adorably apologetic face, crumbles of sugar and cinnamon brimming around his lips. What a big child he was.
After eating so much food, it was hard not to enter a food coma, so we headed to the couches in front of the fireplace for our usual game session, so to keep awake and happy while we waited for midnight and for the gift exchanging. We were having so much fun, laughing at Sam trying to mimick for X, that we wouldn't have realized that it was midnight if Isabella hadn't pointed it out.
After I gave everyone their gifts, and exhaling satisfaction at how everyone seemed to love my gifts, I went to give the gift I had reserved for last. "Here, this is for you," I say, stretching over the slightly heavy box to Tom. Excitement built inside of me, anticipating his reaction. I bought this a while back already. I saw an ad on Amazon, and as soon as I saw it I knew I had to get this for Tom for Christmas.
