Crusin' On Vacation

03| Baking Isn't Really My Thing.

IM SORRY IK I'm late

I'm also sorry for the mixed feelings you will be receiving in this chapter (and probably in previous and other ones)

Just, can you uh, check the tags real quick? To clear up confusions? *nervous laughter*

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Day 2: Baking Isn't Really My Thing.

I PACED AROUND MY ROOM, my phone in hand. I let out profanities as I tried to think of other conclusions to what I'd seen last night. The image of my father on the couch, and my mother not even taking up half the bed. I didn't even get any sleep.

I thought maybe my father got uncomfortable and went to sleep on the couch, but then I remembered my mother wasn't a heavy sleeper, and she had a heart even if she didn't show it. She wouldn't allow my father to sleep on the couch if she took up half the space.

So the only conclusion was, they didn't want to be in the same bed as each other.

A knock was heard on my door. I mentally sighed in relief. I had invited Thomas over so I could at least get advice. Even if it was just five AM in the morning. Heaven knows that what I need right now is patience. Thomas seemed to be full of that.

I opened the door, about to pour my whole misery out on him, when he walked past me in just a tank top and sweatpants. He threw himself on my bed so that his head was buried in my pillow.

I tried to ignore that.

"This better be good, or I swear I will rip your hair out and be sure to feed them to a dog on the sidewalk."

Mental note: Thomas Martin was not a morning person. And from the looks of it, probably never will be a morning person.

I chose not to ask questions about this dog.

"I'm starting to lose hope, Thomas." I told him, ignoring his groans of protest. "I went to their room last night to check on them, and—and they didn't even sleep in the same bed!" I exclaimed. "Tell me, Tom, how am I meant to get through this if they don't even want to be within three feet of each other?!" My voice rose in frustration. Thomas didn't even turn. He just groaned into my pillow.

"If you're going to tell tales of Huckleberry Finn, then please do that when daylight hits us, okay?" He hummed into my pillow.

What?

He was delusional and sleep deprived.  I should have known not to trust a guy in the mornings. Like I said, the male species was horrible. Just in different ways.

Thomas had proved that theory for me. But it was good, though. I didn't know what I would've thought if he came out to be The perfect man. There was no such thing. Period.

For those in love, there was, apparently. They were the ones who understood the actual meaning of those three words. But for single people like me, it was just a thing we read in books and watched in movies. Fiction.

At this time, he was fast asleep. He looked so peaceful as he slept with that little smile on his face. It was like he was sleeping in complete bliss, like he didn't want to let go of the moment.

How could one sleep so much? Maybe he hadn't gotten any sleep last night, like I did. But I was still up and doing, so he had no right to sleep so peacefully while I slept with a scowl on my face and dried drool on the side of my cheek.