𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 | 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚

"Mum, I can't do this!" I exclaimed bursting through the doors of my mum's home study.

The construction workers including the tempting devil, "Frenchie", that stupid name, had long gone and even though I'd tried to busy myself by watching crappy horror movies on Netflix so I wouldn't think about what happened in the kitchen, the events kept creeping up in my mind. Various thoughts of if I acted weird in any way, if I should've said more, if I gave off a rude vibe were playing in my head non stop, until I decided to unleash my feelings on to my mum.

"Are they just always going to be hanging around every part of the kitchen?! I can't even get what I want to get from the kitchen!" I continued, "Do you know what I had for breakfast today? Orange juice! I wanted a croissant! Then I wanted to go back to the kitchen to toast bagels and drench them in butter and then maybe get some orange juice afterwards but I didn't just want orange juice! But, I couldn't do that because they were just there! They were all just there! And-"

"I-" My mum furrowed her eyebrows at me and slowly took off her reading glasses, "So, uh, what's your problem here exactly?"

"They're going to think I'm fat..." I mumbled, looking down at my nails, now realising how little sense I was making and also how far this really was from the real problem.

My mum blinked.

"They won't think you're fat," she chuckled.

"You don't know that," I said and took a seat in one of the comfy chairs facing opposite to her desk.

My mum sat up straighter in her chair and really looked at me. I stared right back at her.

"Do you think that the real problem here is that you feel as though, somehow, that the kitchen doesn't belong to you anymore and things belonging to you is so important because you had to share a lot of things with India when you guys were growing up until she went to college?"

This time I blinked.

"Are you-," I started slowly, "are you seriously therapizing me? You can't do that, mum!"

I must admit, however, that she was not actually wrong.

"Forgive me, darling. But, I think you'll find that's the reason you're throwing a little tantrum."

"Maybe," I mumble.

The birds outside the open window chirp.

☽

His appearance alone was seductive; his rugged features were alluring. His hair, dark and lustrous, had a sheen like fine hardwood. But that comparison isn't entirely fair, I suppose. Hardwood doesn't swish gently like his hair does, swaying with the words he speaks. A shiny varnish catches merely light around it, but the depths of that deep chestnut brown reflected all the radiance of his smile... as if God had moulded him just to spoil these greedy eyes of mine. The crystallised blue eyes of the man were full of intensity as he was engaged in what seemed like a deep conversation with a few of his co workers.

I'd only really come in here for a quick snack, but I guess that was just an excuse to spy on the beautiful man from yesterday. It wasn't my fault. The light sheen of sweat on his smooth looking skin glistened in the sun which caught my attention. Why would I deny myself the luxury of admiring such a beauty?