One

“Honey, I need you to dress up tonight and be ready by eight. We’re having guests and I want you to look presentable,” mum tells me. Not exactly something I want to hear the moment I come back home from work. “Also, please wear your contact lenses, not your glasses. You look more beautiful without your glasses and they make me feel like you always have your head dug in your laptop. You know, all geeky and smart.” Here’s my mother’s definition of ‘presentable’. A lady shall wear a dress and heels, put on make-up and have her hair done in order to look presentable. Oh, and if a lady wears glasses like how it is in my case, then she needs to ditch them.

“And who are the guests?”

“The Rodriguez.”

 I can happily dig a hole in our backyard and bury myself in it. I don’t have a problem with the whole family, but a certain member never fails to make me desire nothing more but to punch him.

The Rodriguez and the Henderson—my family— have been friends since God knows when. Malory Rodriguez and my mum have been friends since high school, and they were the reason behind the friendship of dad and Mr. Rodriguez. Malory and mum thought that their children would also be besties, but oh how matters wound up. Nathan and I can barely stand one another. Ever since we were kids. To him, I’m a geek and a nerd. To me, he’s an asshole who can barely keep his dick in his pants.

He is friends with my brother though. One of his best friends if I need to be specific.

Nathan’s reputation is no secret and I happen to be a girl who doesn’t fall at his feet. Perhaps that’s why he can’t stand me. Also, I’m not his type. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those I’m-not-like-other-girls girls. I dress up whenever I want and I know how to look ‘presentable’ whenever I need to be, but when I’m at work, I opt for a comfy look. The look that mum despises.

“Is Nathan coming?” I ask her and she nods. “Then, I can happily meet them in my pajamas,” I say, standing up.

“Yeah, this won’t happen.” She glares at me.

“Fine!” I mutter before scurrying to my bedroom. I just need to nap for thirty minutes before having dinner with the devil.

Today has been exhausting, but I have to work hard. I’m doing my best to succeed on my own because there’s no other option. I chose a profession that has nothing to do with the family’s business, so they decided to give me a hard time. Not that hard if I’m going to be honest. I still live under their roof and they give me money, but not enough to start my dream business.

I’m a software developer. I don’t need to dress up every day for my job, but my mum doesn’t get that. I wish she could understand that I’m not a super model. To my mum, only men choose my career and not just normal men, the ones who usually smell. Her words, not mine. No matter how many times I tell her I don’t appreciate the way she speaks about my job, she ignores my comments.

Look at your hair, it’s a mess! Mum’s words play in my head once I close the door. I approach my mirror and sigh. To me, nothing is wrong with the way I look, but the way mum looks at me makes me think otherwise.

My hair is thrown in a messy updo that I cannot dare to call a messy bun, but I thought it looked cute in the morning. My mum doesn’t approve of any messy updo. The word ‘messy’ horrifies her.

I look at my outfit and I like to believe that I look fine. My dark blue skinny jeans are clean and so are my white tank-top and my red plaided shirt. However, telling her I was at work and this outfit was suitable for my day was not enough.

You went to work like that!? What kind of a woman are you, dear?

Her words play in my head, and I close my eyes. The way she treats me hurts and I do my best not to let it show. It’s not enough that I’m a math prodigy. It’s not enough that I graduated at the age of eighteen from MIT. It’s not enough that I’m incredibly successful at the age of twenty-two. I guess I will only be enough for her when I start dolling up.

She thinks I’m exhausting myself for nothing, but she doesn’t understand that I won’t stop until I achieve my dream. I won’t work with my family and take the easy road like they all once suggested. I want more.

You see, my family owns one of the biggest import-export enterprises in the USA. They specialize in importing and exporting construction materials. However, I have always been the geek in the family. Programming is my passion and one day I’m going to be the owner of the biggest security software programming company in the world. Unfortunately, programming has nothing to do with trade, so my family decided to let me pave the way for myself because I chose something other than the family’s business.

I started my career first year in college, and now I am twenty-two, earning myself a good life being a freelancer. The most important thing I learned is not to be bound, either to a job or to a relationship.

Projects that take less than a month are my favourite; they also tend to pay well, so it’s a win-win situation. Nothing brings me more money than the security enhancement projects I do for huge companies. They always say that there are no loopholes in their system, but that’s not true. One time I found false financial records in their system and these records could have driven the enterprise towards absolute bankruptcy. Thanks to me, I saved the day and I walked away with $250,000. 

Realizing that I have no time to nap. I go to my bathroom and take a shower. I need to get ready for this dinner.

I put on an olive-green dress that is an inch above my knees. The V-neck shows my collarbones, but it displays nothing of my cleavage. I’m not going to give Nathan something to gaze at for the whole of the night. I love how the skirt of the dress isn’t tight. I have always been insecure about my hips that I tend to hide them with flowy dresses.

I let my hair fall down my back in its natural waves; something my mum won’t like, but I don’t care. It’s not like it’s frizzy, I appreciate my natural waves. After applying a minimal amount of make-up, I go downstairs. Just when I take the last step of the stairs, the doorbell rings. They have always been punctual.

“I can’t wait to see you bickering with Nathan,” my brother teases me like the child he is that I stomp on his foot with my heels. Sometimes I wonder who the older one is.

“Don’t test me, Henry.” I glare at him.

Mom and dad walk to the door, and we follow behind them. Dad opens the door and shakes hands with Uncle Gabriel. Of course, Mum and Malory hug one another, then Malory pulls me into a tight hug.

“You get more beautiful every time I see you!” she gushes, and I smile as I hug her back. She usually boosts the self-esteem that mum occasionally destroys.

“Thank you, Aunt Malory.” I grin as I pull back, then my grin falls when I see Nathan in front of me.

Here comes the devil.