Grooving to Life's Beat

Sunglasses and Advil Kind of Day

"Emma! Emma! Emma, wake up!"

The voice sliced through my dreams like a knife, distant and muffled, as if I were hearing it underwater. My eyes fluttered open, struggling against the weight of sleep. The first thing I saw was my mother's perfectly coiffed blonde bob hovering over me like an angry halo, her face set in an expression that could stop traffic.

"What in the world is going on here?" she shrieked, her voice a mix of shock and anger.

It took me a few seconds to realize I was on my living room couch, in the arms of Marshall, who was still fast asleep. Panic surged through me instantly, and I jumped up as if the couch had caught fire, shaking Marshall awake in the process.

"Marshall, wake up!" I hissed, my heart pounding in my chest. Having my mom witness this scene was the absolute last thing I needed. The drama that's about to unfold is going to be unreal. I could already feel the lecture coming, the judgmental looks, and the endless questions about what I'm doing with my life.

"Who is this?" My mom's voice hit a pitch that could shatter glass. Her eyes were wide with shock, darting between me and Marshall, who was still half-asleep, completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him.

"Uhm..." I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I struggled to piece together some sort of explanation. "Mom, I-this isn't-" My words stumbled over each other, trying to find some semblance of order in the mess we'd woken up to.

Meanwhile, Marshall groaned, blinking himself awake. He squinted at my mom, then at me, then back at my mom, as if trying to figure out if he was still dreaming. "Uh, morning?" he mumbled, his voice rough and groggy, not the least bit phased by the nuclear explosion happening right in front of him.

"Morning? Morning?!" My mom's voice climbed another octave, her perfectly manicured hand clutching at her pearls as if they were the only thing keeping her from completely losing it. "Emma, what is this? Who is this... half-naked man on your couch? Is this how you're living your life now?" Her gaze snapped to him, and if looks could kill, Marshall would've been a goner.

"Please, calm down, it's not what you think!" I tried to explain, my voice trembling slightly. "Marshall is just a friend. He... he lost his keys last night and needed a place to crash. That's all." I continued but my mom wasn't having any of it. Her eyes zeroed in on his bare chest, the tattoos sprawled across his skin, and I swear she just stabbed him with that look.

Marshall, now sitting up and still looking dazed, glanced at my mother and then back at me. "Who's the angry lady?" he asked, scratching his head as if he was still trying to piece together where he was and what was happening.

"It's my mom!" I hissed, panic rising in my chest as I saw mom suddenly spinning on her heel and marching toward the kitchen. She gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white as she took a few deep breaths, clearly trying to calm herself down. "You need to go, Marshall, please!" I continued grabbing his crumpled T-shirt from the floor.

"Your mom?" Marshall echoed, a flicker of amusement crossing his face as if he found the whole situation funny. "So, kind of like my mother-in-law?" he added with a lopsided grin, taking the T-shirt I offered.

I pressed my lips together, desperately trying to hold back a laugh that threatened to escape. "No, we're just friends, remember?" I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster. "You lost your key, needed a place to crash, and somehow ended up on your friend's couch. So technically, that makes her... your friend's mom." My gaze met his, and those piercing blue eyes, which seemed to hold a thousand secrets, sparkled with a mix of amusement and mischief.

"Oh... yeah! Just friends..." Marshall murmured, pulling his T-shirt over his head, clearly not taking the situation as seriously as he should. Meanwhile, my mother was practically sputtering, her anger building like a teapot ready to whistle.