Baby Love ── RICKY BOWEN¹

eighteen. your presence

.·゜゜·　　·゜゜·．

It's Thanksgiving.

Here's a fun fact, I've never liked Thanksgiving. It's a big holiday, but not big enough that my extended family comes together to celebrate as they do for Christmas. So usually, it's just me, my brothers and my parents. And as per usual, as I've been bred to be the perfect little girl since I was little, I'm stuck with most of the work of this holiday. I mean, I'm sixteen, I shouldn't be stressing in the kitchen over how my mashed potatoes turn out, and yet that's the way it always happens. 

One of the only perks to this night is the fact that my mom has been too busy hunched over a case file that she hasn't stuck her head in to make comments on the way I'm cooking. I am a little bittersweet about her ruining our annual tradition of getting into a big argument every thanksgiving, though.

I let out a sigh when I hear Ben's voice behind me. "Yeah, she's right here..." I glance over my shoulder with a glare, but I double-take seeing he isn't talking to someone, but rather talking on the phone—my phone. He taps on the screen, a grin on display behind the screen. "There's our Maritza, killing it in the kitchen."

"Who the hell is that?" I ask defensively.

Ben responds by stepping closer and extended the phone out, revealing a bashful looking Ricky. "Hey, Mars," he greets. "I didn't know you made Thanksgiving dinner at your house?"

Yeah, most people wouldn't guess that.

I shrug. "Now you know." Ricky frowns slightly. "So, uh, what'd you call for?"

"He's asking if we're going to Ashlyn's later," Ben interjected.

My eyes flicked up to my brother, who appeared sheepish. When Carlos announced the party at Ashlyn's, everybody got super excited about it, minus myself and Ben who just looked at each other in defeat. Sure, maybe our family doesn't value Thanksgiving as much as we do other holidays, but that doesn't mean our mom is just gonna let us leave to hang out with friends. I told Ricky that already, so why he thought the answer would change in less than twenty-four hours is beyond me.

Like he could sense my answer, Ricky lets out a huff. "Still a no?"

I shake my head. "Sorry, Ricky. Text me how it goes?" I watch as he nods, then the call ends, leaving my lit up lock screen. I turn back to manhandle some potatoes, but I can still feel Ben hovering beside me. "What?" I grumble.

"I just...I wanted to go tonight." I shoot him a look of disbelief. "What? I'm basically part of the crew too, okay!"

"Never said you weren't," I mumbled, abandoning my station to go to the fridge. "I just don't think you should get your hopes up knowing who our mother is."

"But Dad—"

"Has no say in the matter because he never stands up to her," I cut off Ben promptly. My narrowed eyes seemed to do the trick because Ben's shoulders drop, and he nods glumly before turning and leaving the kitchen.