Hating Grayson ✓

09

They dropped me off at my house, but not before they begged me one last time to go with them. Again, I declined.

I needed a bloody nap.

"How was the game?" My mom asked as I walked inside.

"Long." Was my response.

"Did Mitchell's team win?"

"Yes." I told her before taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools. "What's for dinner? I'm starved."

"Lasagna." My mom smiled at me before cutting up the lasagna and putting it on a plate.

I looked more like her than my father, whereas Mitchell, as my parents have said more than once, looked exactly like my dad when he was younger. I had her same brown hair, along with the same freckles and hazel eyes.

"Where is dad?" I wondered, taking the first plate.

"The bathroom." She responded, making up two more plates and getting forks out of the drawer before taking a seat next to me on the stool.

"How was work?" I asked her as she handed me a fork. I instantly dug into my dinner.

"Oh, I won't be at work for awhile. I'm taking some time off." She explained.

"What? Why?" I wondered.

"No reason, just decided to spend more time at home. Is that a crime?"

"No." I continued eating.

The front door swung open, then shut.

"Dinner's ready!" Mom called out.

"Yessss! I'm so hungry." Mitchell appeared and took a the plate that Mom had made for dad.

"That's for your father." Mom stated.

"Oops, my bad." Mitchell spoke with his mouth full.

"Eat with your mouth closed." Mom told him.

He rolled his eyes before complying.

"How was the game?" Mom asked Mitchell, standing up from her stool so that she could make dad another plate.

"It was good. We won." Mitchell spoke with his mouth full again.

Pig.

"Grayson is throwing a party at his place to celebrate our win, is it okay if I go?" Mitchell asked.

"Yeah, sure." Mom answered, causing me to scrunched my face in confusion.

Okay, who is this woman and what has she done with my mother? She would never allow Mitchell to go to a party. No way in hell, is what she would say.

"Just don't tell your dad." Mom whispered.

"Okay, thanks Mom." Mitchell continued chowing down his food.

"And take your brother with you." Mom told him.

"No thanks, I don't want to go." I said.

"Nonsense." Mom spoke. "Go have fun, I'll even leave the front door unlocked for you."

"But I don't wanna." I frowned.

"Dude, quit being such a bore." Mitchell said to me, stuffing his face with more lasagna.

"Why don't you quit being a pig!" I snapped back.

"Boys, stop it." Mom warned us.

I placed my fork beside my dinner and stood up from the stool. "I suppose I should get ready for this dumb party." I groaned.

"Who knows, maybe you might find a girlfriend?" Mom says.

Mitchell burst into laughter at that. "Dallas? Dating? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard."

"Mitchell, quit being mean to your brother." My mom warned him.

I turned around and made my way to the staircase so that I could go upstairs and change.

I decided to go with a pair of jeans and a hoodie for the party. Normally, I disliked jeans, something about the texture, but tonight, I liked them, for the sake of my outfit.

"Are you ready?" Mitchell asked as he stood in the doorway to my bedroom.

"How are we getting there?" I wondered. It's not like he can drive us there and back home, unless he was planning to spend the night at Grayson's, which meant that I would have to probably walk home, or get a lift.

"Brock's on his way." Mitchell stated.

Out of all of Mitchell's friends, Brock seemed like the nicest of them. By nicest, I meant that he was the only one who wasn't a complete jerk. Which is why I was so perplexed at his choice in friends. Then again, who am I to judge? My friend chose me, and I am no picnic.

"He's almost here, hurry up." Mitchell said.

I reached my phone on my bedside table and followed Mitchell downstairs.

"We're headed out!" Mitchell announced.

"See you both later, have a good time!" Mom called as Mitchell opened the front door.

"Love you both!" Mom's voice called from the kitchen, again.

"Love you too!" I said back before heading outside.

A few seconds of standing in the cold afternoon air, Brock had finally arrived, pulling his car into our driveway with the stereo turned up at a high volume. I didn't recognise the song that was playing, not that I expected that I would.

Mitchell moved to get into the passenger side while I traipsed to the back door to sit in the backseat. As I opened the door, i was immediately met with the smell of watermelon flavored vape smoke as it wafted into my face.

Ugh.

"Sup man!" Brock gave Mitchell a fist bump before started to reverse out of our driveway.

"Not much, sup with you?" Mitchell wondered.

God I hate small talk, more so when I am at the other end of it. But witnessing it was just as awkward.

The drive to Grayson's house did not take as long as I had expected, but that might've just been because of Brock's need-for-speed driving that we arrived early.

The front lawn was littered with people drinking and mingling. It was an atmosphere I didn't want to be a part of at this moment.

This was a bad idea...