Looking to Lose (completed)

*19*

My mother is grinning over her peaches. Vanilla bean ice cream drips gently from her spoon and swirls into the cinnamon and peaches in her bowl, the ice cream melting rapidly against the hot, caramelized fruit.

Ignoring her, I choose to stare into my own bowl instead, shoveling the sweet concoction into my mouth. My mouth. The same mouth Aaron kissed not even ten minutes ago. And now I'm eating peaches. I can't tell which is sweeter.

"Are you warm honey?" my mom asks me and I jerk up out of my peach-and-Aaron-filled reverie.

"Uh, no?"

"Oh, it's just that your cheeks are so flushed..." At that they flush harder, and one glance across the table shows Aaron suffering a similar fate. My mother, however, grins like a child on Christmas, humming and happily eating the last of her melted dessert. My dad simply shakes his head at her, but I can see the smile in his eyes.

They know.

They know that Aaron and I kissed on the porch. For all I know, my mom was sneaking glances out of the window in the living room. Maybe she even brought a foam finger to cheer me on. I know, it may sound odd that my parents are promoting my love life. Don't most regular parents swear that no one will ever be good enough for their little girl and get out the rifle anytime someone so much as kisses her? That may be the case for most families, and though my family is the picture of conventionality, when it comes to romance, they throw a wild card. My parents met in college and had a whirlwind romance that has yet to slow down. In other words, they are love-obsessed, hopeless romantics who believe there is no better thing in this world than young love.

"We are so glad you could join us tonight Aaron," my mom gushes, but something about the way she's speaking puts me on high alert.

"Thanks for having me," he replies in that polite tone of his. "I really enjoyed myself."

"Oh I bet you did," my mom says in a tone that leaves little to the imagination. Like holding a match to a woodpile, Aaron's face sparks bright red instantly.

"Mom, really?"

"What honey? I'm just agreeing that you and Aaron had a special time together." My dad snorts next to her, trying to contain his laughter as my face grows to match the shade of Aaron's. "Why? Is there something you'd like to say?"

I'm about to just blurt it out and get it over with, seeing as though my own parents will not stop taunting me until they get the details, when my phone rings obnoxiously.

"Mila! Thank God," I say as I pick up her FaceTime at the table, trying to block out my parents' child-like giggling.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU – "

"Mila, it's not my birthday for another week – "

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR ISA –"

"Mila! What is going on?"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUUUU!!!!"

"Okay well thank you? I'm still confused – " A notification on my phone interrupts my train of thought. A banner notification informs me that tickets have just been transferred to my phone.

"Did you get them? Did you? Did you?" Mila's impatient voice booms out of my speaker as I click on the notification. A first-class roundtrip ticket flashes across my screen and I almost drop my phone.

"No way," I mutter. "No fucking way."

"WAY!!!! YOU'RE COMING TO THE CARIBBEAN BABY!!!"

"What the FUCK?!" I scream at the same time.