Love to Hate You

Chapter Two

I sit at the breakfast bar the following morning spooning cereal into my mouth tiredly. Absently brushing a piece of my vibrant red hair from my eyes, I glance up to see my dad walk in a shuffle over to the fridge.

“Morning.” I greet him lazily, pouring a little more milk into my cereal bowl.

“Morning, Reesie.” He replies, turning around to find I’ve already got the milk.

He comes over with a bowl in hand, taking his time pouring cereal and milk into it. When he’s finished he glances up at me and leans against the counter, spoon in hand.

“So,” he begins and dips his spoon into his bowl, “what does my Reesie want for her birthday?”

I pause mid-chew and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, gentle get firm, a shade of green that A.J. managed to inherit while I’d been stuck with my mother’s dull hazel. His lips turn up into a smile, making his slightly crooked nose crinkle.

I had forgotten about my own birthday.

I guess, after your sixteenth birthday you really have nothing to look forward too, making the rest of your birthdays boring and maybe highly unanticipated because it makes you feel like you’re getting old. I’m not quite sure that’s my problem, however, I do have nothing to look forward too. I’ll just be stuck with the same old party with the same old people and the same old birthday presents. I’m not complaining, just mentioning how painfully unexciting my birthdays are. I receive art stuff every year and I’m positive this year will be no different.

I shrug at him and push my breakfast bowl away.

“I want the Heartbreakers to perform at my party.” I suddenly pipe up, surprising even myself.

My birthday party is at the beach every year. There’s nothing like swimming and getting incredibly sunburned on your birthday every year, according to my mother. We always bring my dad’s jeep down onto the sand and turn the radio up super loud and dance crazily to it. That’s personally my favorite part. I don’t really care for the presents since they’re predictable and I don’t really need them. I also don’t care for the cake because I don’t like frosting. So, dancing around the sand with my family is usually something we all agree on and is usually the time when we all get along the best because we don’t care and we’re just having fun.

My dad’s spoon drops with a clatter on the ground and his mouth drops open slightly. I raise an eyebrow expectantly for the answer I know is coming.

“No.”

I let out an audible groan and push myself away from the counter.

“You knew that would be the answer, so why bother asking?” He asks, watching me throw my dishes in the sink angrily.

“Because, they’re my friends and I want them at my party.” I answer, crossing my arms and turning my face away from him.

He sighs and drops his head, “Reese, your mom doesn’t want you hanging around them anymore.”

“Why? She suggested I go and see them in the first place. Just because her plan didn’t go accordingly doesn’t mean she can cut me off from them, “ I argue, “She’s just mad because I don’t want to be like her.”

At that moment my mother strolls into the kitchen swiftly, making me regret saying that. Still, she needs to hear it.

“That’s not what I’m mad about.” She says harshly, brushing past me to get a spoon from the drawer behind me.

“Yeah? Then what are you mad about? Enlighten me.” I scowl.

“Be respectful.” My dad snaps, making me cringe at the tone of his voice.