The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

thirty-two

Emyln

I get home around 11:30 p.m., and am surprised to see that no one is awake. I don't mind, though. The quieter the house, the more I can focus on what I'm doing for my boyfriend.

After stopping in my room to change into some comfortable pyjamas, my Uggs, and collect everything I'm going to need for my project (MacBook Pro, the charger, my Phone and its charger, the grades I managed to get from Val - apparently the two of them loved to compete during high school with who got the better grades, so she knows all about how Hains did in high school - and a notebook, along with some pencils. I know I'm going to be up late doing this, so I might as well do it in the kitchen. Besides, all that hockey worked up an appetite I forgot I had. I need some fuel before I start.

Once my belongings are organized on the wooden dining table, I start to rifle through the fridge, looking for something to settle my hungry stomach.

I eventually decide on the leftover tacos from last night.

As they're heating up and I'm chopping up some fresh lettuce, I hear footsteps behind me. Turning around, the knife still in hand and my heart beating quicker than usual, I see my mom come trudging into the kitchen. She's wearing her baby blue robe and matching slippers, and her hair is a mess. "I heard noises," she yawns. After rubbing her eyes, she looks from me to the knife in my hand.

Laughter bubbles up inside me, and I can't stop myself from laughing. "Oh my God, Mom," I gasp between waves of laughter. "You scared me."

There's a small grin on her face as she points to the knife and says, "Clearly."

I set the thing down and head over to the microwave, which is now beeping. The smell of seasoned ground beef and melted cheese with jalapenos fills my nose as I pull the dish out. My stomach growls. God, I could just devour the plate of food without adding all the essentials.

"So," Mom says from behind me. "How was your night?"

I know the question is simple and innocent - there's a high probability that she's actually curious about how my night with Hains went - but my defenses instantly go up. They're almost like a reflex around her. I know Mom is trying to fix things between us; mend the bond that's been broken and all that kind of Disney shit. There's just part of me that doesn't want to open up to her and tell her every detail about tonight. Every time I look at my mom, I can hear those words ringing in my head. I can feel the stinging in my heart. But the stupid thing is that her efforts are starting to get to me. She hasn't had contact with me for five years up until now. There's probably a lot she has to say to me, something that, I hope, would include an apology.

Yeah, I'm still mad at her, but I am tired of acting like a bitch. So I reply and say, "It was awesome. Hains won the game, and then we skated around for a bit and played some hockey. Guess we lost track of time."

Mom smiles, and I can't stand the sight of it. So I turn around and start assembling my meal. Why does everything have to be so complicated? I hate the fact that my feelings are tugging me in every direction. My emotions are battling it out, trying to figure out how I really feel beneath it all.