Apple [ complete ]

[ Misguided Promises ]

Case Studies are horrible omg ):

Apple.
[ Misguided Promises ]

Nicole was fucking crazy.

I couldn't fathom how she and Apple were related. Maybe one of them was adopted—but, then again, they did look similar so that was highly unlikely. Nicole was pretty smart, I'd admit that, but she also had her blonde moments. And it's not just one of those You Are Freaking Stupid kind of moments, but the ones that would win a fucking Oscar if it was a category.

It was family game night—a traditional Fletcher-Winston get together event that was held every other weekend; once a month at our house and the other at the Winston's. The tradition was practically as old as my friendship with Apple was and it was always the same as the other nights, but it never had gotten old. Even Zoey and Nicole, sometimes Blake and Gareth, would join as well.

It was a great way to catch up. Except, instead of having it every other Friday night like before, everyone meets up once a month since time is not a freaking option anymore with work and the real world at your back. But it made it more fun. I guess that the tradition would continue on later once Zoey Jr. or Blake Jr., and Nicole Jr. or Gareth Jr. were born.

"We should go down the cottage this weekend," Nicole suggested as we barbequed at the backyard. She took a bite of her burger and sighed. "I mean, we didn't go last summer. Since it's June and all, we could all head up there."

"That sounds lovely," Mom agreed, taking a sip of her coffee. "I miss the morning air down by the lake."

"And the fishing," Phil (Phil) added with a nod, drinking a glass of rum—or at least that was what it looked like. He had the same brown eyes as both Apple and Nicole had, but his dark hair stood out from the three blonde females in the Winston family.

Dad chuckled, sipping on a beer. Jesus, our families had the weirdest eating habits. "I bet I'd catch more than you this year," he challenged.

"Dad, you're all talk and no game," Zoey mumbled. Two weeks had already passed since the wedding and Zoey and Blake just got back from their honeymoon a couple of days ago. She ate a tub of mint chocolate chips ice cream—again, weird eating habits—and offered some to Blake who shook his head.

"D'you hear that, Philip?" Gwen chuckled. "Your own daughter lacks faith in you."

"Mom, I don't think that Dad could do any better," Apple interjected, eating her burger beside me.

If things were normal—which they weren't—I would have said something cool and highly unlikely to happen like: I could beat all of you in one go. But I didn't. I stayed in my chair, munching on my burger without saying a word—even this was a new quiet state for me.

Merely because Apple and I weren't exactly on great terms at the time being. Since Zoey went from Ms. Fletcher to Mrs. Archer, Apple went out with Salvatore for a total of four times.

Two lunches. A brunch. A dinner.

Fuck, I hated Salvatore.

"Hey!" Phil interjected.

"I bet you I could beat your sorry asses any time," Blake announced.

Gareth, who sat beside Nicole, ran a hand through his brunet hair before his grey eyes glinted with challenge. "I bet you that you can't beat me," he stated.

Men and their feel the need to be superior to other men. It was hard not to interject in the conversation. Especially since fishing wasn't the kind of sport that required much things except for patience and luck, which I both possessed.