How To Be The Best Third Wheel

Original Edition - Tip 8: Always wear a Bra

Crabapples and sauce.

Do you know what I just happen to remember as I stand infront of the enemy and the enemy's siblings? I'll give you a guess. What did I have the pleasure of taking off a few minutes ago?

Yes, my bra. My beloved, padded sports bra.

I subtly cross my arms across my chest, and try my best to act normal. Although at this point, I'm ready to do an Olympic style sprint out of my house. I don't run at all, which is saying something.

The enemy gives me a strange look, probably sensing my uncomfortableness. It's probably coming off me like smoke on hot food. I do my best to avoid eye contact and focus my attention to his other siblings. The invasion has begun. Why do I not own anything in camouflage?

"Hey Ate Lara!" Gabe chimes. He's the friendly and polite one. He's the one that looks most like Tita Gia with his tanned skin and eye shape. Unlike Gabe, the other two boys have fair skin that they've inherited from Tito Danny. I don't know how such a nice boy deserves the torture of being related to James.

"Hey! Come in guys." I blurt out.

His siblings are all younger. There's Gabe, who is the same age as Illa and Seb (Sebastian) who is 6 years old.

Seb rushes up to me and gives me a hug. I love Seb so much. Illa and I are only 3 years apart, so I can't really treat her like a baby. But Seb is so adorable, with his 2 dimples and his cute little smile. He looks alot like a miniature version of James, especially with the identical dimples on their cheeks. Both are more English-looking, since they look like Tito Danny, who is from London. Of course, Seb looks much cuter than James. But to be honest, If I didn't know them, I wouldn't be able to tell that they had filipino blood. I carry him up, then let him back down to scurry into the room.

Once he is gone, I cross my arms over my chest and face James. I throw him my own version of an evil glare.

"I hate you." I state.

"I know. The feeling's half mutual." he responds with the same tone.

"Great. Since we hate each other, we should avoid each other. Shall we cancel the tutoring?" I tell him, trying not to punch him in his annoying face.

"Haha, very funny." he laughs sarcastically. "I said, the feeling's half mutual. I don't fully hate you."

"Wow. What a pleasure it is to only be partially hated." I respond, the sarcasm getting stronger in each syllable.

"Plus, I never denied needing your help."

I narrow my eyes at him. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and takes a few steps towards the kitchen. Before he takes another step, he stops beside me.

"Oh yeah, before I forget, what's with the intensely crossed arms?" he comments.

"None of your business." I retort back.

"No need to keep them crossed. Nothing much under there anyways." He says, as if that meant nothing and was only a mere fact. He walks past me, hitting my shoulder and leaves me here, dumbfounded.

It takes me a few seconds to wrap my mind around the words that just came out of that jerk's mouth. My jaw drops open and then I close it, gritting my teeth together from my anger. That jerk! How dare he insult my flat-ish chest like that! I already know that my boobs are basically non-existent, no need to say it out loud! I hope that idiot falls off a cliff. Honestly, who does he think he is?

It's not my fault that I am a part of the "itty-bitty-titty-committee"! I'm not flat-flat chested, my boobs are just small. Erm, I mean, low-fat. Apparently, while my boobs are being all low-fat and ish, the rest of my body didn't get the memo! Oh body, putting the layers on all the other places instead.