Page 10 of Before We’re More Than Friends (When We Faced the Music #1)
Raina
S aying I’d woken up with an elephant on my chest wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Given how I couldn’t breathe at all, it didn’t seem like Penrose was much lighter.
“Girl.” I huffed, trying to lift her off me. Her body covered my stomach and my chest, leaving almost no air. “Get off.”
The girl didn’t move one bit. Guess my oxygen levels weren’t important enough to her.
“Seriously, Pen.” I sat up again, but my head crashed against my pillow seconds later.
This wasn’t a new occurrence. She’d played this game almost every night since she was a puppy, even though my queen-sized bed was big enough for both of us. Now that she was eight years old and much bigger, the pain that came from this was almost lethal.
It was only six thirty in the morning, and I was already on the verge of death.
I grunted as I tried to push myself up again. “This is . . . getting . . . old.” My head collided with the pillow. “Ugh.”
The look she gave me with her big eyes told me she didn’t give two flying dog flips about my upcoming death. Nice, even my dog didn’t care about me anymore.
With all my strength, I pushed myself up while trying to lift her off my body, but it resulted in both of us rolling off the bed and tumbling onto the floor.
To say the pain was enough to fully wake me up was an understatement, and I checked four times to make sure I wasn’t hurt, but now that she was no longer on me, I could breathe again.
I picked myself up from the floor and smirked at Penrose, who looked at me with sad puppy eyes. “I won this time.”
She whimpered, and I rubbed her black and brown fur. She licked my face like she hadn’t just tried to crush me, and I kissed her back on the nose. The girl could bury my jewelry in a cemetery, and I’d still return to her with open arms.
True love always comes back.
I used the bathroom and brushed my mangled hair before going downstairs to make myself waffles. When I came closer to the kitchen, a sweet aroma filled the air.
Who was cooking at nine on a Sunday morning?
Francesca only made lunch and dinner for us, except on special occasions like birthdays.
Dad usually worked out in the home gym at this time, and Mom and Arielle didn’t bother to roll out of bed before ten on the weekends.
Sometimes Arielle would make breakfast with me if I woke up later than usual, but she rarely did it without me.
My question was answered when I walked into the kitchen to see Dad pouring batter into the waffle maker.
“Dad?” I rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
Dad jumped, spilling some of the batter onto the counter. “Oh, gosh.” He put down the bowl and put a hand to his chest. “I didn’t see you come in, Rain. Good morning.”
Rain . His special nickname for me. My heart squeezed in my chest. “Sorry, Dad. Good morning.” I looked at the mess he’d made all over the counters. Our kitchen was pretty big, but Dad always created a war zone whenever he cooked. “I’m not used to you cooking.”
“I decided to make us breakfast for a change,” he said as he cleaned the counter with a rag. “I remember when you guys were little when your mom and I would make breakfast for you guys before church.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. We hadn’t been little; it was three years ago.
Everything started changing that spring.
Dad reached the height of his career while Mom fell back into her drinking addiction, both of them becoming detached from us.
We hadn’t been to church since that Easter, and the Sunday morning breakfasts went away shortly after.
I spent most breakfasts by myself, used to the emptiness at the dinette table.
“Is that okay?” Dad asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I know you usually make your own waffles?—”
“It’s great, Dad,” I said with a smile. “Do you want me to wake Mom and Arielle up?”
“If they’re not up by the time I’m finished, then yeah.” He nodded over to the dinette table, sun shining into the circle of windows. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” I said as I sat in my usual spot at the table, the chair closest to the windows. “Until Penrose tried to squash my chest.”
“Again?” He shook his head as he took the bacon out of the oven. “When she was a puppy, she used to do that to me. I hated it, but I couldn’t stay mad at her. Stupid puppy eyes.”
I shook my head. “I think we should get a cat next. They still sit on your chest, but they’re not big enough to crush your lungs and your boobs.”
He rubbed his chest. “Good thing I never have the worry about the latter. ”
I laughed. Dad rarely joked around, but when he did, it reminded me that the soft side of him was still there.
“Any plans this week?” he asked me. “Isn’t your school having that Saturday night party?”
“Yeah, the Saturn Frenzy.” Once a semester, our school had a Saturday night party with music, food, and activities.
Families and people from other schools were allowed to come and help raise money for whatever the cause was.
It was like a carnival, a dance, and a benefit mixed into one.
This one was being sponsored by none other than the local animal shelter we volunteered at.
The owner, Amy Landers, wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this. “There will be seafood this time.”
Dad licked his lips. “That sounds delicious.”
“Yeah, but I think Mom wants to hang out with us this weekend.” I just hoped she’d follow through this time. She hadn’t last time. Or the time before. Each broken promise made me lose faith in her.
Thumping came from the stairs. Seconds later, Arielle appeared with her golden-brown hair in a messy bun. “Hey, I smelled waffles and bacon.” Her eyes widened when she realized Dad was the one behind the counter. “Am I seeing this right?”
“Gosh, Ells, you don’t have to be that surprised.” Dad put the plates of waffles on the kitchen table. “Can you wake up your mom?”
“If she’ll wake up.” Arielle spun around and left the kitchen.
“She’ll wake up,” Dad muttered as he grabbed the bacon from the counter.
Pain pinched my chest at his tone. I doubted Mom was hungover since she didn’t go out to the gazebo last night, her usual drinking spot, but it felt too good to be true that we could have a normal family breakfast again.
I twisted my fork around on the table four times, resisting the urge to start eating my waffles.
After Dad placed bacon and glasses of orange juice on the table, Arielle came back with Mom trailing behind her.
“Ah, the beauty queen awakens,” Dad said, a smile breaking out on his face. I didn’t remember the last time he smiled at Mom that way.
Mom’s cheeks flushed as she combed her messy brown hair with her fingers. “Thank you for making breakfast.” She sat at the table, and Dad sat beside her.
Arielle sat next to me and said grace for all of us before she practically inhaled her first waffle, not even waiting to put butter or syrup on it.
“My goodness,” Mom said, holding back a laugh. “Someone woke up hungry.”
“The audacity to eat your waffles plain,” I said as I poured syrup on my waffles. “This isn’t like you.”
Arielle let out a gasp after she finished swallowing. “I should’ve eaten more at dinner last night.” She gulped down about half of her orange juice before letting out a huge burp. “My gosh.” She put her hand to her mouth. “Excuse me.”
“You sure you weren’t born in a barn and got switched with my twin?” I asked while chewing on my waffles.
Arielle scoffed. “Like you don’t have syrup all over your face from talking with your mouth full.”
I dabbed my face with a napkin as Mom and Dad laughed.
Usually, Dad would get annoyed with our playful bickering and the mess we were making—like his cooking process didn’t involve destroying the entire kitchen—but he sat there with a smile, though his face twitched from discomfort.
He was trying his best. He used to not try at all.
In the middle of our meal, Dad’s phone rang on the table. He swallowed before picking it up. “I have to take this. Be back in a few minutes.” He picked the phone up before leaving out the back patio door.
We clearly had a different definition of a few minutes because by the time the three of us had finished our second round of waffles—and Penrose had stolen some of Arielle’s bacon—Dad still hadn’t come back inside. I should’ve freaking known. A normal family moment was always too good to be true.
“Sorry,” Dad said as Arielle and I cleaned up the table. “You don’t have to clean everything. I’ll do the rest.”
“Okay,” I said before going back into my room, where I could block out my whirlwind of thoughts with my music.
“You’re on poop duty today.”
“Good afternoon to you, too,” I muttered. There was nothing like entering the animal shelter to have Oliver Landers, the owner’s son, give me the crappiest tasks. Literally.
“Arielle suggested that I should switch your tasks today since she’d been on poop duty at least once a day the past few weeks.”
I went to glare at Arielle, but she was already skipping down the hallway as if she were entering a Disney Park, imaginary birds singing around her. Traitor.
Oliver laughed. “Gosh, your face is priceless. You just have to feed the cats and clean up after them.”
“Yeah, I know how to do that.” I waved a hand.
He rolled his eyes and handed me two bags of food. “The big one is for the cats two years and older, and the small is for the ones under two years. Don’t mix them up. The cat food can make the kittens sick.”
“You really think I’d mix them up?” I frowned. “Ouch. ”
He gave me a mock-serious expression. “This shelter’s fate is in your hands, Raina Carly Vermont.”
“It’s Chloe .” The bags of food got heavy, so I set them down on the floor and let out a breath. “I’ll do my best.”
He smiled and walked away. Oliver practically lived here, hoping to follow in his mom’s footsteps. His award-winning smile never failed to put me in a better mood. I did have a crush on him when I was fourteen, after all.