My Virtual Darcy 🏆 2021 Wattys Shortlister

3 - Love at First Sight

A bee, a snake, and a lion took up residence in my ears during sleep, their buzzing, hissing, and roaring deafening me. Did they cause my splitting headache, or was it the other way around? I mused about it while I massaged my neck, and my equally tensed shoulders.

A glance at my alarm clock warned me it was two in the afternoon. I groaned, my eyes shutting back to finish my night and to... What? I jerked up, immediately regretting it when a swarm of black dots clouded my sight. Did I oversleep? This had not happened since... since... Wow. My mind was foggy.

With my phone in hand, I wobbled to the door and into the hallway. Taking a deep breath, I stopped at the top of the stairs to ponder if scooting down on my bottom like a toddler would be safer than walking.

In the living room, Dad was adding bookmarks to his new cooking book, his tongue poking out between his lips as he picked recipes for his food blog. Mom was immersed in a romantic movie. Amy sat by her side on the couch, affecting to browse her tablet but keeping a watchful eye on the television.

"Hi," I croaked, dazzled by the sun rays flooding through the bay window.

"Hello, sleepy head," my mother greeted me, as I shuffled towards her. She cupped my face to bring me down to her level, and kissed me on the cheek. Oh, that felt good. I dropped on the sofa, my head on her lap.

"Bad hangover?" my dad asked, peering over his glasses.

"Are there any good hangovers?" I managed, dazed by Mom's soft caress on my forehead.

"Fair point." He closed his book, and stuck it under his arm. "I'll make you an omelette."

Upon my raising a brow, he explained, "It will help you get rid of the alcohol in your body," then proceeded to the kitchen.

On cue, my stomach grumbled. "Okay. Thanks, Dad."

"How many champagne flutes did you have, anyway?" Amy smirked.

I frowned, trying to piece together yesterday evening's events. "I dunno. One, maybe two."

"Loser. I had five, and I'm on top form," she scoffed.

"Girls, this is not a competition," our mother tutted, stroking my hair and squeezing my sister's knee with her other hand.

"Fortunately, otherwise I would crush her," Amy mumbled. "Ouch. Mom!"

While I fumbled for another cushion, decided on making Ames swallow her words, she retrieved the one I had thrown, and relentlessly slammed it on my back, shrieking with laughter. Under her steady stream of blows, I grabbed my new weapon, but before I could heave it, she hit me with all her might. I stumbled and fell to the floor, giggling, and Amy hovered above me with the two cushions, a demonic smile plastered on her face. I shut my eyes, preparing for the coup de grâce, but when nothing came, I opened one of them.

"Dude, you still have your Bridge on. I could have damaged it," she pouted, her arms hanging at her side.

She threw the cushions back on the couch, and offered me her hand to get up. I accepted it, but swept her foot at the same time, bringing her down with me on the carpet. We laid there, tittering and prodding each other, until Mom shushed us, "Leah, please don't use the kravmaga moves I taught you on your sister. Amy, never lower your defenses, even when your adversary is down. Now, quiet. The princess is about to switch places with the baker."

Amy rolled her eyes and regained her seat, her head on our mother's shoulder. I trudged upstairs to remove the device, and after a quick shower, Dad's famous omelette waited for me on the table, with its fresh chopped green onions, and side Thai rice. The fluffy eggs slid down my throat, the melted butter and soy sauce furthering it to my empty stomach. While I munched on a slice of fried cha lua, my mind went back to the Bridge.