i have already asked this question but people wanted to know who mason was at the end so i added that part:I lay on my bed flipping through Seventeen magazine. I usually don’t read this. But here I am, on Friday night, reading about fashion, sex, and boys. Apparently there is a huge party tonight and my mom found out about it. She said, and I quote, “you can’t go. You can’t go because I want you to meet my boyfriend.”
Okay, I’m not one for lame excuses but my mom is. And this one is lame. My dad left the day of my first birthday. My birthday usually isn’t anything special because of him leaving. After he left it took my mother sixteen years to finally get the courage to date. I, being the reason for her sudden courage. I just think she didn’t like seeing her daughter date and find herself sitting alone reading magazines on Friday night. Which is exactly what I am doing right now.
“Sienna, get ready now!” my mom yells up the stairs to my room.
It’s like she can see me sitting in my room wearing my favorite pair of sweat pants. I stand in the middle of my room. Um, what are you supposed to wear when you meet your mother’s boyfriend? It’s not like I have never been in this position before but I have to decide how I want this guy to think of me. I remember when I wore a mini shirt and a tight tank top to meet this one guy my mother brought home. She eventually had to break up with him because he liked me better. Creep!
Since my mom is punishing me, she isn’t really but that’s what I keep thinking, I will just wear what I’m wearing. No need to make my mother pissed off at me, again. Honestly it’s not my fault what these guys think of me. Personally, if a guy looks like a pervert, then he is a pervert. Believe me when I say that all guys she brings home are perverts.
“Honey, he is on his way over! Hurry up!” she yells.
I walk down stairs to the kitchen.
“What are you wearing?” she asks.
What am I wearing? What are you wearing? She really must be trying. I mean, it’s not every day you have to see your mom wearing a mini shirt, red heels, and a white blouse.
“Do I have to remind you about last time I dressed up?” I ask.
She frowns at the memory and says, “Good point.”
I set the table and carry the bowls of food out of the kitchen. The door bell rings.
“I’ll get it,” I say and walk to the door.
I open the door and man about six feet towers over me. I being only five feet six inches know that he is tall. His clothing was casual. A simple blue t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans fitted against his body. His body being very muscular. Is he on steroids? Wouldn’t be the first time someone my mom dated does drugs. I look up to see a kind smile on his face.
“You must be, Sienna. I’m Mike,” he says kindly.
I smile back and stare at his green eyes before saying, “Nice to meet you. My mom is in the kitchen getting ready. I’ll tell you this for her benefit; she usually doesn’t dress like this.”
He looks past me and stares at my mother who is walking with a bowl in her hand. I notice his eyes search her body and then come back to me. He winks and then walks inside.
He wraps and arm around my mother’s waist and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh. Gross!
“Where is Mason?” my mom asks. Please tell me she isn’t about to have a three some tonight?
“Oh, he had to work. Actually he should be here in a few minutes,” Mike says.
“Well, someone is here,” I say. “By the way, who is Mason?”
Mike looks at me and says, “My nephew.”
Okay, I’m not one for lame excuses but my mom is. And this one is lame. My dad left the day of my first birthday. My birthday usually isn’t anything special because of him leaving. After he left it took my mother sixteen years to finally get the courage to date. I, being the reason for her sudden courage. I just think she didn’t like seeing her daughter date and find herself sitting alone reading magazines on Friday night. Which is exactly what I am doing right now.
“Sienna, get ready now!” my mom yells up the stairs to my room.
It’s like she can see me sitting in my room wearing my favorite pair of sweat pants. I stand in the middle of my room. Um, what are you supposed to wear when you meet your mother’s boyfriend? It’s not like I have never been in this position before but I have to decide how I want this guy to think of me. I remember when I wore a mini shirt and a tight tank top to meet this one guy my mother brought home. She eventually had to break up with him because he liked me better. Creep!
Since my mom is punishing me, she isn’t really but that’s what I keep thinking, I will just wear what I’m wearing. No need to make my mother pissed off at me, again. Honestly it’s not my fault what these guys think of me. Personally, if a guy looks like a pervert, then he is a pervert. Believe me when I say that all guys she brings home are perverts.
“Honey, he is on his way over! Hurry up!” she yells.
I walk down stairs to the kitchen.
“What are you wearing?” she asks.
What am I wearing? What are you wearing? She really must be trying. I mean, it’s not every day you have to see your mom wearing a mini shirt, red heels, and a white blouse.
“Do I have to remind you about last time I dressed up?” I ask.
She frowns at the memory and says, “Good point.”
I set the table and carry the bowls of food out of the kitchen. The door bell rings.
“I’ll get it,” I say and walk to the door.
I open the door and man about six feet towers over me. I being only five feet six inches know that he is tall. His clothing was casual. A simple blue t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans fitted against his body. His body being very muscular. Is he on steroids? Wouldn’t be the first time someone my mom dated does drugs. I look up to see a kind smile on his face.
“You must be, Sienna. I’m Mike,” he says kindly.
I smile back and stare at his green eyes before saying, “Nice to meet you. My mom is in the kitchen getting ready. I’ll tell you this for her benefit; she usually doesn’t dress like this.”
He looks past me and stares at my mother who is walking with a bowl in her hand. I notice his eyes search her body and then come back to me. He winks and then walks inside.
He wraps and arm around my mother’s waist and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh. Gross!
“Where is Mason?” my mom asks. Please tell me she isn’t about to have a three some tonight?
“Oh, he had to work. Actually he should be here in a few minutes,” Mike says.
“Well, someone is here,” I say. “By the way, who is Mason?”
Mike looks at me and says, “My nephew.”