I woke up the next morning feeling like shit. As soon as one of my alarms successfully woke me up, I knew I was going to have to face going downstairs sooner or later.
Or I could just climb out of the window?
I looked at the window of my room, actually considering the dumb idea. I shook my head and got out of bed. I grabbed a towel from my closet and left the room as silently as possible.
As a kid, I used to play this game I called 'Spy Kids', thanks to the movie, of course. I would creep through the halls of our house, crouching and crawling down the stairs in an attempt to spy on my dad. And if he ever happened to catch me, it was game over. Here I was, a twenty two year old woman, tip toeing my way from my bedroom to the bathroom, trying to go undetected by her father. The only difference was that this time I wasn't doing it for my own amusement; I was doing it out of pure guilt.
Somehow, I had managed to ignore the guilt that had been eating me alive for a bit as I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I wrapped the towel around my damp hair and headed out of the bathroom. I caught myself looking left and right, down the hall, before dashing to my room.
After getting dressed and drying my hair somewhat, I grabbed my side bag from on top of the dresser and threw it over my head and shoulder. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a while before grabbing a tube of mascara that was on the dresser and applying it.
Why do girls have to open or form these weird shapes with their mouths when applying mascara? I mean, I'm as guilty as anyone else but it's just so weird, you know? Like, does mascara have some sort of deal with um.. Gravity? Like "uh yeah fam, if someone starts using me you just do your magic on that lower jaw of theirs and yank it down a bit, okay?"
When I became satisfied with the appearance of my eyelashes, I put the tube back and grabbed a nude lipstick in exchange for it. I decided I'd probably just dab some on a bit later so I opened my bag and chucked it in there.
And I wonder why my bag is always such a mess.
I noticed the picture I got from Mr Harrings in my bag. I was planning on sticking it on the mirror of my dresser to give me some sort of confidence boost every morning or something but I also wanted to take it with me to work so I could shove it down Bethany's throat. I let out a sigh and knew what was best.
I left my room, completely forgetting the fact that I was super guilty like ten minutes ago. Reality hit me when I reached the last couple of steps of the staircase. Before I could reconsider the window idea, I walked into the kitchen. To my surprise, my dad wasn't even there. Every morning he'd be perched on the island with a newspaper in his hands but today, he wasn't. I tried not to give it too much thought, but failed in doing so.
Maybe he's still asleep.
Nah, you know how much of an early bird he is.
Maybe he really is asleep because he was up last night cooking and cleaning... Cooking and cleaning for you but you never showed up.
The phone on the wall behind me began to ring, bringing me out of my daydream/internal debate with myself. I walked up to it and quickly answered.
"Hun, what are you still doing at home? It's almost ten!"
I rolled my eyes. "Dad, why would you call unless you knew someone was home. Mum obviously has another shift, leaving me to answer the phone."
"That's how well I know my daughter. I called to tell you to hurry up and leave, that's all."
I laughed at that, he really did know me. I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest.
Hey guilt, how've you been?
"Erm, Dad?"
"Yes sweetie." He replied. "No I want two kilos of that please."
"Huh?"
"Oh I wasn't talking to you, I'm just at the grocery store. You know how they always bring the ripest fruits early in the morning. Before people press and push on them, making them all mushy."
I could imagine him shaking his head at his own words. That honestly must be his biggest pet peeve of all time. "Dad, could you get some Asian ingredients? I have a short shift and want to make dinner tonight."
"Who are you and what have you done with my beloved daughter Marianne Simone Evans?"
"I feel bad for not making it to last night's dinner and want to make it up to you." I confessed.
His side went quiet for a moment, which lead to me saying hello again and again like a bloody parrot, questioning if the line went dead.
"Asian it is." He replied. "We can even call your grandma over. You know how much she loves Asian food."
He didn't have to tell me twice. The woman had the appetite the size of a walnut but if Asian food or chocolate chip muffins were ever mentioned, that so called walnut would flatten out to cover all of Russia.
"Sounds great." I agreed.
"Now what are you still doing there? Leave that house immediately."
I chuckled and said goodbye before hanging up and leaving the house.
***
Like I told my dad, I had a short shift today. All I had to do was stay put for a couple of more minutes. Alexander took the day off leaving me, Dylan, Claire and Bethany to indulge in the quietness and emptiness of the café. Dylan was on his phone, so was Bethany and Claire was preoccupied with her hair. I mentioned to no one in particular how I noticed the number of customers was slowly decreasing as the days went by.
"Maybe it's because they don't want to be served by someone by the likes of you."
I scoffed. "Excuse me?"
"I'm not saying you're ugly." Bethany began to explain. "Like I said the other day, you're just average. I haven't been here to wait tables because I've been busy. You know, TV advertisements and such, so the poor customers are left to be served by the likes of you." She said, waving her hand between Claire and I. Claire shrugged and went back to braiding her hair.
"Bethany." Dylan called, not looking away from his phone.
"What?" She replied, batting her eyelashes at him. "I'm just being honest here."
"Not cool." He said, shaking his head as he put his phone down on the bar.
"Forget it Dyl, she's right." I agreed.
At that, I couldn't ignore how their heads simultaneously swung to face me. Bethany looked shocked while Dylan just looked straight up confused.
I shrugged. "I'm a plain Jane. So what? I don't spend hours in front of a mirror every morning applying ten kilos of makeup on my face, so what? I don't look like a model freshly cut out of a magazine, so what?" I slowly began to walk towards the two of them. "I'm just sick and tired of you pointing it out like it's some sort of deformity every five seconds. Like your sole purpose of living is to be my personal 'annoy buddy'. I didn't sign up for this." I stopped right in front of her. She looked up at me and the expression on her face was priceless. "Oh and FYI; this plain Jane got casted by DH models."
Bethany's eyes widened as she stared at me in disbelief. "DH as in Dave Harrings?" She asked, her voice audibly shaky.
"That's the one." I confirmed. With that, I took out the picture I had shoved in my bag this morning and threw it on her lap before turning on my heels to pick up a packet of chocolate chip muffins and walking out of the café.
***
To say that I felt good would definitely be the understatement of the century.
I, Marianne, actually stood up for myself.
To be fairly honest, I'm quite the pushover. I'm too nice for my own liking. I put people's wants and needs above my own. I can't turn anyone down for favours, or any matter actually. And for a person like me, who hardly ever gave a thought to their own well being, to actually talk back and put someone in their place like that was unbelievable.
To prove my point, my phone buzzed, pausing the music that was playing in my earphones. It was Dylan.
"Someone call the fire brigade because Bethany just got buuuuurned!"
I laughed so hard that the guy sitting in front of me on the bus turned around and eyed me annoyingly.
"Seriously Marianne, wow. Who would've thought you had that fire in you?"
I sighed. "I'm still trying to figure it out myself."
"This new you. I like it."
What the flabadabadingdong do I say to that? Awks.
"And that picture of you! You look amazing! Bethany's still staring at it as we speak." He said.
I shook my head, laughing. "She probably won't get a wink of sleep tonight, huh?"
Dylan's laugh vibrated through the phone and I chuckled. His laugh was always so contagious. "Damn straight! Hey, how come you never told me you took up modeling?" He asked.
"I haven't. I mean I'm thinking of it. They gave me an offer but I haven't gotten back to them. I'm not sure yet." I explained.
"Well I think you'd make an amazing model."
"It was one picture that was taken by pure luck." I stated. I began to recognise the scenery and pressed the stop button on the pole next to me. The bus came to a halt and I jumped off a couple of streets away from my house.
A sigh came from his side of the line. "You seriously need to start giving yourself more credit you know."
I could only imagine him shaking his head. Knowing him, he probably was. "Do I now?"
"Yes, you do." He bluntly replied. "Okay I gotta go, we finally have a customer.
"Have fun!" I exclaimed, sarcasm lacing both words dearly.
"I hate you." He laughed.
"You love me." I confidently replied as I walked through the front door of my house.
"Yeah." He sighed.
I hung up first, trying not to think about how upset that last word sounded through the phone.
"Who loves you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Good evening to you too Grandma."
"Come here my little Mars Bar." She said, before pulling me in for one of her infamous bear hugs I loved so much. Sooner or later, she let go of me slightly and put her hand under my chin, tilting my head up so that I could face her properly.
"Who loves you?" She asked again.
"I think the real question here is who doesn't?" I asked/replied, not knowing where I was going with that. "I mean pfft, have you met me?'
"Sadly, yes." My dad replied, walking out of the kitchen. "And what is this I'm hearing about love out here? Is there a boy I need to kill?"
"Dad." I sighed. "There isn't."
"Because there are two." My grandma casually intervened.
My dad looked at me in shock, the colour almost slowly draining from his face. "Marianne."
"Dad, no. Oh my god Grams what the hell. There are no guys, okay? Not even one. No. Just drop it will you guys. God." I screamed in frustration. Geez, the two were definitely mother and son alright, pestering and curiosity being a family trait of course. And I can't believe my dad actually took me for a player for a second!
He threw his hands in the air in defense as he walked back into the kitchen.
"If you say so." My grandma snickered, winking at me before following him.
This was going to be a long night.
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A/N:
My name's blurry face and I care what you think..
700 READS WHOOP WHOOP!! *shuffles, moonwalks, does the macarena, tap dances and dabs*
Fun fact: that so called "Spy Kids" game mentioned in the beginning of the chapter is something I made up as a kid and actually used to do, don't judge ;-;
I'm not going to cast the rest of the characters of this story, but in case you were curious as to who they may be, here's a list of people who I see fit for them :) =
Mr Evans (Dad) = Common
Ellen (Grandma) = Alfre Woodard
Dylan = Dave Franco
Bethany = Bethany Mota
Claire = Hana Mae Lee
Alexander = Moe Adams
Mr Ramirez = Steven Quezada
Iyanu = V. Bozeman
Claudia = Doutzen Kroes
Mr Harrings = Ben Affleck
Juliette (secretary) = Sarah Rafferty
My little sister made me the cover attached above awww lmao xD
Dedicated to pegasusgirl13 ♡
Feel free to comment, vote, follow, whatever :')
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