Look Only At Me
雛森.N
Original idea from Yuki-Kamishiro, written in my wife's style of writing. Yes, I made a parody of her writing, because I am that awesome.
As instructed by my wife, not edited. .-. I actually have things to do, y'know?
Chapter 1
How I Met Her
Boredom struck me like a lead brick. My mother (Takamachi Momoko) had been talking nonstop about some woman with gaudy cyan blue hair—where's my cocktail? I've ordered the blasted thing fifteen minutes ago! I swear if I hear my mother say, "I am so glad she isn't my daughter," one more time, I'm going pull all my hair out.
"I'm so glad she isn't my daughter," my mother says with confidence. "Honestly, if I was her mother, I'd—"
"Sorry about the wait, Ma'am. We had a small accident in the kitchen involving a banana peel and a butter knife." The waiter placed my drink on the table, completely unaware that he had just interrupted my mother. "Here we go," he said as he took a step back and bowed deeply. "And once again, I apologize for the wait.
Waving my hand, I replied, "No, it's okay; I didn't wait… too long."
"Aha… ha…" The waiter laughed nervously and walked away. I kept my eye on and laughed when I saw him breathe a sigh of relief; I must've scared the pants off of him. Watching the nervous little waiter scurry away made me smirk a little, but I did feel kind of bad… sort of. Just a little, y'know?
After the waiter was out of sight, my eyes preyed upon the fruity little girl drink (that took forever to make); it was an orange slushy with a touch of alcohol. The little yellow and pink cocktail umbrella gave the drink some flare, while the lemon wedge on the corner gave it a nice mellow color. A bead of condensated water trailed down the side of the glass in a temping fashion. I could already feel the beverage satiating my parched pallet.
Deciding that I've waited long enough, I slowly reached out for my drink trying not to draw my mother's attention—
"And then—oh!" My mother snatched my drink and takes a large sip. "Thank you dear, I needed that."
"You're welcome…" I grumbled unhappily.
I slumped back into my chair with my arms crossed. My mother had begun her inhumanly long rant about someone else's child once more, only this time it was a comparison between me and a seven year old. She took another sip of my drink and continued on with her "speech". I love my mother, but sometimes her voice just grates my ears. I need something—anything—to divert my agony to. A potted plant maybe? Nope, no plants.
"Mom, can we ta—"
Then I saw her.
She seemed to be around my age if not slightly older, but she was beautiful. Long blonde hair tied up in a sophisticated ponytail, black rimmed glasses that made her look intellectual, but at the same time framed her face perfectly—her vinaceous eyes took my breath away. I've never seen eyes of that colour before, were they contacts? No, they're real… like her chest. My gawd, is she a D-cup?
"Nanoha? Ne, Nanoha? Mou, why aren't you listening to me?" My mother pouted at me as she prodded me with the little umbrella, but I didn't care—nyahaha! I couldn't care less. The stranger sitting (conveniently) behind my mother was so beautiful I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. Every curve of her body tempted me—like that orange slushy my mother stole—only this time... it would take more than fifteen minutes for her to come.
"Wow…" I mouthed unconsciously.
My mother stared into my eyes and followed my gaze over to Malibu Barbie. Had I been paying proper attention to my childish mother, I would have noticed her lean back and tap the stranger's shoulder and say, "I think my daughter has the hots for you."
The beautiful girl looks back at me and blushes, but I didn't miss the small smile she sent me.
At that moment, for the first time in my life… I felt my heart skip a beat.
