Moonlight Kisses

no one like her

Thanksgiving came as fast as it went. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday all blurred together to form one ball of just plain boredom -- well aside from the awfully eventful Friendsgiving.

Yesterday almost everyone I knew was stuffing their faces with mountains of food, seeing their grandparents, taking "walks" with their cousins, playing babysitter to those cousins who were younger than 5 to make sure they didn't kill each other in a brutal game of Hide-N-Seek. My night couldn't have been further from the opposite.

Since Thanksgiving isn't a holiday we celebrate, my parents ordered pizza and we played a very vicious game of Monopoly. Yes, we're family and I love them dearly, but when I'm all of a sudden an angry Wall Street property owner, no one has the grace of mercy. I won, of course, but at the end of the day, I was just happy my parents were home. They're doctors, so their schedules tend to be unpredictable, but last night they made certain they could be home with me and Kat.

Sophie couldn't say the same over the phone this morning.

And as much as I would love to pour gas on her ever growing flame while she rants, responsibilities come first. By responsibilities I mean I haven't done shit for my psych project. Yes, the responsibility also falls into the hands of Satan's son himself, but I made the call of getting it done right the first time so I don't have to deal with idiot mistakes. For example, plagiarism.

I have the poster board. I have all the info I need. But I am not putting this together myself. One, I have a partner for a reason. And two, he needs to actually get off his ass and do something about this project. He doesn't get to shove this in my lap and expect me to do it for him. The "kindness of my heart" doesn't extend that far.

Taking a deep breath to gather myself (because God knows I need it with all this arguing I'm going to be doing in about 2 minutes), I push the door to Beau's room open and dump the poster board on the bed beside him. He wears a confused look as I march up to him, as if he's so shocked I didn't knock. He should have known my manners would be discarded the moment I walked into the room.

Perplexed brows morph into a deep-set frown. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Beau glowers.

"Hi to you too," I reply in a sing-song voice and a broad smile. I take notice of the lack of light in the room and take it upon myself to stride over to the closed shutters on the opposite wall. Yanking them open, the sunlight peeking through the clouds lights up the room nicely. I have yet to understand why Beau keeps himself shut inside his room all day in darkness, to me it's awfully daunting on one's mood.

Beau scoffs behind me. I look back at him and at least now he's sitting up on his bed as opposed to laying there like some limp dead body. "So you just barge in here, dump your shit, and open my perfectly fine windows?" He stares at me with incredulity as I nod my head casually. "You know, it's the 21st century, there's lights for a reason." With his arms crossed and his face twisted in aggravation, he looks like a child refusing to comply.

"There's natural light for a reason. What do you think people did hundreds of years ago? Flip a light switch?" I mimic his voice, accent and all. I'm not saying it was any good, but it does seem to get on his nerves.

"You sound like my fucking grandma," he grunts. It's almost as if he was a petulant child stuck in a 17-year-old's body. Actually if that were the case, it'd explain a lot.

"I'm sure your poor Nana wouldn't want you using such foul language when talking about her."

Despite its clear danger, I fetch the scissors in my bag and toss them at Beau. He catches them, thankfully enough for him. Like I expected, he snarls at them, meaning he knows what I came here for.