Our Last Dance

Chapter 1

Being a morning person rather than a night owl would've been a gift, especially for me. Why? It's because of the symphony of "noise" from the other bedroom that had me questioning my entire sleeping schedule.

Every night, my movie marathon or the giggling session over bad acting in porn was hijacked by the sounds that emerged from these very walls itself.

Not able to take it anymore, I confronted the unashamed human beings behind this sonic invasion - my parents. I told them about how their nightly 'activities' were burning holes in my ears and interrupting my movie rendezvous.

I expected an ounce of shame, but their calm demeanor and big smiles shocked me to death. They began, "Honey, think of it as an alternative 'sex education.' You're growing up, and well, someday you'll have your own stories to tell. And don't be such a wimp about it, this is a part of life."

I stood there mortified.

So basically, I was a traumatized kid.

Along with this, I even had to deal with my insomnia, (I diagnosed it myself). I loved watching and reading at night, and I just couldn't sleep. So, I kept on doing random stuff till five am, which I was pretty sure I'd regret in the morning.

Now I was laying in my bed, groaning and cursing myself for not sleeping early, as I just couldn't open my eyes. And when I tried to open them, they closed on their own accord.

"Fuck this shit, I'll just skip college today," I told myself before shutting my eyes again. But then I got back up because the sound of a car driving down the street and the reality of facing my professor's wrath woke me up from my slumber. I opened my eyes to find the sun shining straight into my face. When I looked at my clock, the time read 9:50 am.

Shit!

"Why did I oversleep?! This is what I get for sleeping late. I should've been awake five minutes ago and ready to go to college by now."

It took a whole ten minutes of running through my room, bathing, and putting on some sweatpants and a hoodie. I did want to wear pretty dresses, but I didn't have time.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and I could tell that I looked fabulously...dirty.

I ran down the room and paused to look at my mom holding an idle in one hand and a magazine in the other.

"Mom, are you seriously reading a porn magazine right now? " I cringed and made a face.

"There, there, my love. I know that I do have sex a lot, but that doesn't mean that I am an addict," she said, winking.

"Then what's that?" I pointed at the material in her hand.

"I am just going to use this to make us some breakfast. Now scram before your father comes down and sees us talking about something that isn't his business!" She pushed me out of the way and started working on the pancakes.

I threw on my bag and shoes and rushed for the door, bracing myself for the inevitable screech from my mom.

"Young lady, don't you dare leave this house without eating breakfast or you'll feel the full force of my fury!" she hollered, attempting to salvage what looked more like burnt cake than pancakes.

"Well, I'll deal with your wrath later. Right now, it's Mr. Anderson's wrath I need to worry about," I replied, a grin tugging at my lips. "Say goodbye to Dad for me!" With that, I dashed down the stairs, chuckling as I heard the sounds of frustration behind me.

"You little devil," Mom's voice rang out behind me.

I spun around and blew her a kiss. "And you and Papa can finish that burnt cake yourselves!"