Mornings are for Mourning – Part 2

Hi, sweetie” Dad said, his voice coated with Splenda-faux-sweetness.

Talk about rude awakenings.

I opened my mouth, patiently waiting for it to stutter out a few words. “I-I have to go.” Finally. “Massie’s probably waiting for me.”

I awkwardly paced across the room, wrapping my fingers around the doorknob.

“Don’t forget about the family dinner at the country club!” yelled Mum. “Wear something decent this time.”

I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks as I walked out. My mind was blank. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. How does one react in moments like these? How was I supposed to act? I gulped, lowering my head, desperately trying to shake the thought out of my throbbing head.

“About time,” Massie rolled her eyes, poking her head out of the Range Rover.

I kind of just smiled and dropped myself in. It was that kind of smile that was so forced it kind of hurt your cheeks. I don’t know. It was kind of just… empty.

Beep.

As soon as my 3×1 skinny jeans scraped the tan leather seats, my phone beeped.

Message from Blake.

“Coffee after school?”

Perhaps mornings aren’t an indications of how the rest of the day will go.

Beep.

I got another text, this time from Alex.

“Lattes later?”

Beep.

Alex again.

“Oops– just realised I can’t.”

Untitled

Well, okay then.

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The Little Tea Room was, ironically, not that little.  The shiny parquet made a barely audible thud as my Alice + Olivia heart printed canvas flats shifted across it, towards the shaggy but well-dressed, dark-haired, six foot something guy shaking his left foot.

“I’m glad you came,” was the first thing Blake muttered as he pulled up a chair for me. Ahh, I guess gentlemen still exist after all.

“I’m glad I have something to look forward to.”

Blake furrowed his eyebrows, jerking his head to the right quizzically. “Did I do something?” Even though his voice was sprinkled with concern, with a hint of his sandalwood-y cologne, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, not at all.” I giggled. “It’s um.. it’s my dad. He’s back and… yeah.” Never would I have ever thought that I would have delivered such irksome news in such a cheery tone.

And so I started spilling from all sides, like a punctured garden hose. It certainly wasn’t the conversation starter I expected, but hey– nothing about this day was particularly normal to begin with. It was at this moment that I really realised what a great listener Blake is. We weren’t cracking jokes or fooling around like we usually do. It was probably our first serious moment. I don’t know. I just don’t know about anything anymore.

Once I was done, he started wiggling his foot again. Why was he so nervous when everything had felt so natural to me?

“Dylan, I kind of have something to tell–“

“Will you come to the dinner party with me?”

The corners of his lips curled up, gradually widening into a cheek-lifting, sheepish grin. “I’d love to.”

“So, what was that you were saying?”

“Just that I-I like your flats,” he muttered, blushing. ‘I like your hair. And your eyes. And your everything.’ I wanted to reply. As unusual as it was for a guy to say, I found it ah-dorable.

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I chuckled a “thank you”, sipping my Skinny Sweet & Salty Latte, inhaling the heavenly scent. It was good enough to be the new Laura Mercier honey bath. My tastebuds did a pirouette as the caramel popcorn (sans cals) flavoured drink flooded into my mouth. I’m not sure which one made my blood race and heart pound more: Blake or the latte.

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Scribbles Section

I gave my blog a makeover! I went for a very retro comic sort of style. What do you guys think?

I actually love this style so much I’m planning to do a similar, but more colourful makeover for my RL blog!

Also, I am now more organised than ever, so expect a lot more posts from me. And, yes, I will be uploading Misfit District soon, as well.

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RDM

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