"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Maeva's point of view.
"So, what's her name?" Anthony freezes almost instantly and the dishcloth drops from his hand as I pass him another freshly rinsed plate. His brown eyes get darker by the second and the way he keeps biting his lower lip tells me that not only is he embarrassed to be having such conversation, but also dying for it to end with as little tea spill as possible. "Relax kiddo, mom and dad aren't here."
Although it would've been so much fun if dad was here to assist me in my mission, I settle for what I can get for the moment. With his fingers fidgeting and tracing weird shapes on the soaking wet plate, Anthony sighs in reassurance then tries to ignore my question. Little did he know that I'm currently weeping on an emotional rollercoaster and so anything that could cheer me up is much welcomed: "Spill it already!"
"Who are you even talking about?" Cliquing my tongue in impatience, I raise an eyebrow and turn off the tap that was on the verge of overflooding the emptied sink. Being the smart kid he is, he takes it as a clear sign for him to speak before having a bottle of dish soap poured on his ruffled blond locks. "You must be talking about Lisa. We're just friends." He finally answers and my frown instantly flips into a grin that's very hard to oppress.
"Just friends, huh?" The poor thing does not know what he's gotten himself into. First of all, I only asked for the girl's name, so the fact that he insisted on mentioning that they were friends tells me there's more to the story than what he's saying. Second of all, that unnecessary "just" he stuck in the middle of his latter phrase is too much of a justification which proves my theory right. Finally, he's been hanging out with her all morning, and his phone has not stopped beeping ever since we started doing the dishes. Hence, and given the previously illustrated evidence, I shall declare that my brother is officially crushing on a girl!
'And the cat lady strikes again!'
Will you stop calling me that, conscience?! I'm perfectly fine being single. Look at me, don't I look dazzling?
'I will not answer that. You're in no state to get a shock right now.'
"Are you done with the interrogatory? I have to practice..." Before he gets the chance to storm out of the kitchen, I grasp his blouse with my soaking wet hands and plant a kiss on his forehead. The kid flashes me a forced smile but I do not surrender for I insist on knowing more:
"Come on, is her name all you can tell me?! Is she pretty?"
"Does it matter?" I think my heart just burst out of its cage. Could my ten-year-old brother be a hopeless romantic? If that's the case, then I must educate him on the art of being a nifty romantic otherwise he'll burn in the mellow fire of the first Shakespearian love he encounters.
"No, it doesn't. As long as you like hanging out with her." I advise him, nose held high and voice deepened in imitation of a wise love guru. A mere okay is all I get in return for what I thought to be an awesome piece of advice but I do not push him to talk further, though, since he practically barges out of the room as soon as I turn to dry the last cup left on the counter.
