Dedicated to @the-irish one for the cover -->

28 Days before Valentine’s Day

        “I’m home!” I shouted, slamming the door closed to keep the wind and rain outside. Nobody answered. I took off my muddy converse and my rain-soaked coat.

        I peeked into the living room, being careful not to let any water drip down from my hair and onto the wooden floors. “Hello?” I called out.

        “In here!”I followed my Mum’s chime-like voice into the kitchen.

        “Something smells good. What are you cooking?” I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Oh goodness. I don’t know what that is, but it sure does smell nice.

        My Mum turned to face me, her brown hair moving swiftly as she did. “Oh, just chicken pesto and maybe panna cotta for dessert. What was with you, calling out ‘I’m home!’? You never say that.” She raised an eyebrow at me in suspicion and narrowed her eyes.

        I shrugged, “Nothing, I just see it a lot in movies and wanted to try it out. I wanted to see what was so special that they always have to say it.” I paused, “What’s the occasion? It’s not your birthday is it? If it is, I didn’t forget.” I said, too quickly.

        She chuckled, leaving me confused. “It’s not my birthday, Avery. I just thought I’d make something special for my amazing daughter.”

        My eye twitched at her compliment, “You just called me amazing. What happened? Is grandma in hospital again? Did someone d-“ I fired questions at her and she just shook her head.

        She brushed a stray strand of hair and tucked it behind her ears, “No, your teacher called and told me how well you were doing.” She explained.

That’s odd. One of my teachers was nice enough to call my Mum just to tell her how well I was doing? Huh. Maybe they’re not all Satan’s followers who is determined to kill me before I even make it out of school.

        I raised an eyebrow. “Which teacher?” I asked curiously.

        “Mrs. Holmes, your Art teacher. She says you’re helping out one of the ‘difficult’ students in you class. He’s coming over later so you two can get on with your project. Andrea and I already talked about it.” She said nonchalantly, placing another pan on the stove.

My jaw dropped and I’m pretty sure that my eye is twitching like crazy. Who the hell is Andrea? I didn’t even know what to say or do. I mean do I start screaming my head off first or hit my head against the wall?

        “Andrea?” That was all I could say. Yes, I Avery Green has finally been rendered speechless.

        My mother smiled, “Dylan’s Mum. She’s one of the children’s nurses. We have coffee sometimes.” She made it sound so simple. As if it wasn’t a big deal.

Okay. Now this is just getting ridiculous.

        “You know each other?” I must’ve asked that sounding a bit too surprised because she frowned.

        She didn't look pleased, “Yes, Avery. Your mother does have a social life, you know.”

        “I-I know. It’s just Dylan’s Mum? You could be friends with so many other people but you choose Dylan’s Mum?” Then a thought hit me like a ton of bricks. “Oh my! You haven’t told her embarrassing things about me, have you?” I felt sick.

        My Mum chuckled, “No, I haven’t. And you know, Avery. She’s a very nice lady. Why wouldn’t I be friends with her? Besides, she’s a single mother, just like me. It’s nice to talk to someone who understands what it’s like to raise a child on their own.” Something flashed in her eyes.

        I sighed. Now she just made me feel guilty. “I guess. But do me a favour, don’t tell her anything embarrassing about me like getting stuck on the supermarket trolley when I was three. Please?” I begged.

        She rolled her eyes, “Fine. Now go change. Dylan should be here soon.” Then she turned back to the stove.

I ran up the stairs and walked towards my closet. I did what I call the ‘wear whatever I see first’. I wore a simple light blue top and a dark pair of skinny jeans and ran downstairs to the living room, only to see the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen sat on my sofa.

        “Dylan.” I said behind gritted teeth.

        He quickly looked up. “Avery,” he grinned. ‘What’s up, partner?”

I was about to say something clever as a retort but my Mum and Andrea walked in. Andrea said hello to me and gave me a bright smile, then her and Mum started talking about something. I don’t know what they were talking about, I wasn’t listening. I was busy glaring daggers at Dylan who was sat on the opposite sofa, grinning at me like an idiot.

So, you’re probably wondering why I hate Dylan so much. Well, let me tell you why. I’ve been going to the same school as Dylan since first grade. He wasn’t as annoying then, but annoying nonetheless. He put PVA glue in my hair and chucked glitter all over me.

In third grade, he shut the classroom door on face and I almost got my hand trapped. Luckily, I didn’t. But I did get my skirt stuck there, which made it rip and everyone laughed. I got nicknamed ‘Airy Avery’ for the rest of the school year.

In fifth grade, he stole my first kiss. I didn’t give it to him, he stole it! There I was, innocently reading under a tree and he runs up to me and kisses me! Eww. The memory of that moment literally makes me gag. That thing kissed me. Gross.

Okay, maybe if you saw him now, you probably won’t think that it was gross, because his face has improved now and he doesn’t look much like a donkey anymore. Yeah, that’s the closest thing to a compliment that he’s going to get from me. He used to have these huge two front teeth, it kind of made him look like a rabbit. But he had this really goofy laugh that made him resemble a donkey.

But now, most girls consider him as ‘hot’. Pfft. Yeah right. I honestly, don’t know what girls see in him. I’ll admit, he’s not bad-looking, he doesn’t look like an ape like most of the guys in school.  But, come on. That personality of his is sure enough to repel everyone away from him. But, I guess some girls are just too desperate that they’re willing to follow him around even if he is a complete moron.

I can’t say I’m surprised that Dylan enjoys all the attention that he gets. Being the one of the most athletic people in school is definitely the way to popularity and in his case the fast track through life and the way to get girls.

I know for a fact that some girls wish to marry him one day or something. I’ve heard them squealing about their dumb fantasies about being married to Dylan Meyer and living in a big mansion and everything. Do they really think that’s the future they’ll have with Dylan? The guy doesn’t even turn up to most of his classes and when he does, he doesn’t do anything. How exactly is he supposed to buy that ‘big mansion’ when he’s broke because he doesn’t have a job?

My Mum noticed at me glaring at Dylan and gave a look and I winced. “Dinner is probably ready, so let’s go eat! I already set the table. Then you and Dylan can get on with their project.” She smiled at me and I forced myself to smile back but I doubt that it was even convincing.

I stood up and followed my Mum to the dining room, my arms crossed over my chest. I felt someone nudge my stomach. It was Dylan, I ignore him but he kept elbowing me.

        “Quit it,” I hissed at him and he winked.

        “I’m looking forward to tonight.” He smirked and walked past me.

If I had a gun right now, I don’t know what I’d do. I would either shoot myself with it or shoot him with it. I haven’t decided. Or maybe, I’ll shoot Mrs. Holmes for putting us together.

Dinner is going to be pure torture.

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 {Unedited}

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Has anyone else ever been forced to eat dinner with someone they don't like and be civil?