Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❛ I 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 it was 𝒚𝒐𝒖.❜ [ 𝗦𝟬𝟭𝗘𝟬𝟮︰𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 ] ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
MAISIE FELT LIKE A MARIACHI BAND WAS PERFORMING INSIDE HER HEAD.
And they were putting on their best show.
Maisie dropped her head against the couch, her sunglasses lowering as she ran her hands through Conrad's hair. The eldest Fisher boy groaned against Maisie's thighs, feeling the same pain that she was feeling.
From Maisie's spot on the couch, she watches as Jeremiah cracks an egg over the pan with Steven hovering over him. "Do we really have to physically sit for our portraits?" Jeremiah asks, referring to the fact that Laurel had told them that Susannah wanted to paint them this summer. "Can't she just, like, look at a picture on her phone or something?"
Steven then leans closer to Jeremiah to look out the sizzling egg, the latter pushes Steven away, "Okay, get out."
Laurel shrugs from her place on the island, her eyes locked on her laptop while she types out her newest manuscript, "She needs to see you in the flesh in order to capture your essence. While you're still young and full of hope."
Maisie would laugh along with Steven and Jeremiah if her head wasn't pounding. Laurel looked up at her son and Jeremiah, "Her words."
"Well, Conrad does not have hope, actually. He's hopeless, but my hangover smoothie," Jeremiah points at the blender that was full of a green concoction, "it cures all."
"Can you please just hurry up?" Conrad whines from Maisie's lap. She ruffles his hair and tilts her head back up as Jeremiah calls out into the living room, "Just go back to bed, all right?"
"She hasn't painted you since you were little," Laurel reminded, "I think it'd be nice to have these portraits for when you're older."
"Old? No. When I'm older, I'm sure there'll be, like...like, holograms or something I can watch of myself, you know?" Jeremiah assumed as Jeremiah walked over to the blender. He made sure the blender's lid was on perfectly–since nobody wanted a repeat of summer 2011–and turned on the blender.
Maisie prepared herself for the noise, but Conrad jolted up at the sound. A laugh bubbled out of Maisie, rocking her head and turning her laugh into a wince as the imaginary mariachi band pounced against her skull.
Conrad fell back onto Maisie's lap while rolling his eyes at Maisie, but the ghost of a smile on his lips showed he wasn't as irritated as he wanted to be.
