Puppy Love ✓

Chapter Eight - dance breaks

CHAPTER EIGHT – dance breaks

A day before Cynthia's brain surgery, they called Travie.

I was unaware of this when I hip-checked Travie's half-opened door along the way as I carried a plate of freshly baked blueberry muffins and Caprisun on both hands.

"Yeah, I'm doing good here, mom," Travie said. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, holding his phone a few inches away from his face.

"That's good to hear, honey," Cynthia replied on the other line.

"I'm studying for my exams," Travie continued. "Gwen's here with me."

I placed the plate of muffins on Travie's bedside table just as he turned his phone in my direction where I saw Cynthia on the screen, sitting up in her hospital bed, smiling at me.

"Hi Cynthia," I chirped, waving my hand and beaming at her. "How's it going?"

"Hi Gwen," she replied. "I'm doing good. Tomorrow's my big day. How are you?"

"I'm great. I'm praying for your safe operation and fast recovery Cynthia."

"Thank you, Gwen. You're so sweet."

Travie brought back his phone towards his face. "Where's dad, mom?"

"Oh, he just stepped out to borrow an electric razor," Cynthia replied. "We're going to shave my hair later."

I sneakily slipped past Travie's room to give him his privacy.

An hour later, there was a quick knock on my door and Travie popped his head inside. "The blueberry muffins are bomb diggity," he said in lieu of a greeting, giving me an okay hand gesture with a grin on his face.

"I know, right?" I remarked, spinning on my chair away from my desk to fully glance at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He shrugged offhandedly, giving me a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. "Shall we continue to study?"

We went back to Travie's room where we were doing our study session. I collapsed on the bean bag on the corner of the room where I'd left my Chemistry notes earlier.

"What chapter are we now?" Travie mused as he settled on his chair by his desk where his books and notes lay out.

"Twenty-two," I replied.

"Cool. Okay. Twenty five minutes of reading starts now."

Travie and I were doing the Pomodoro technique in our study session which meant we study (read) for twenty-five minutes, take a break for five minutes, read again for another twenty-five and took a break for another five. After we did that four times, we took a longer break of twenty minutes where we began questioning each other about that topic we've studied.

As our first break, I called in for a dance break.

"Not the underwear song again," Travie complained as I started dancing in the middle of the room with the music blasting loudly from my phone.

"Can you please stop calling it that." I scowled at him. He was still sitting on his chair looking at me amusedly. "It's called 'She Looks So Perfect' not underwear song."

"Whatever," he muttered, a coy smile playing on his lips.

"C'mon, get up and dance," I said, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet.

We started dancing which meant in Travie's books wiggling his body like an earthworm and fist pumping his hand into the air in tune with the beat. I snorted at the way he danced and he pinched my cheeks in response.