Chapter 8

"Nothing, it's just that your sister has beautiful eyes."

My cheeks bloomed red as as I looked into his unwavering gaze- his eyes still relentlessly piercing into mine. I quirked a brow.

Why would he like my eyes? Although my eyes were a sight to behold, they definitely weren't my most striking feature. In fact, I had received many remarks on how "boring" and "simple" they were from other people, clearly flaunting their own colourful orbs, portraying the most abstract of paintings. Alas, that was all they could afford to parade.

"Thankyou," Philip grinned, as if the compliment was meant for him. "She gets them from my dad."

I felt the mood suddenly shift- even Mamá and the others had stopped talking.

I cleared my throat and spoke, "Hey Phil? Why don't you show Zachary your drawings?"

"You can draw?" Zachary asked.

"Yes. I love to draw and paint. Nicole taught me!" Philip grinned, his two front teeth missing.

Jumping off the chair that was clearly too big for him, Philip got up and grabbed Zachary by his jacket sleeve, half dragging him out the door.

A few seconds later, Mamá and the rest continued their heated discussions about politics in which Lawrence was justifying Donald Trump by saying that "His intentions were for the best of the country."

"I mean c'mon? We can't let immigrants come into our country and let them live here, am I right? Not to mention the crime rate-"

"Hey Lawrence, you have to try this. Its our family speciality." I interrupted, inching the large bowl of enchiladas for him to take.

"Oh thanks Nicole. I love to try out different types of cuisines!"

We'll see about that, I inwardly smirked, watching him put a couple of spoonful's of the enchiladas in his own plate.

The devil inside of me was anticipating the moment the food collided with his tongue...3...2...1

Just as he shoved his spoonful of enchiladas into his mouth, I enunciated my nonchalant small talk.

"Also, I cant help but think back to what you said about immigrants and their super high crime rate. You know, its weird that u said that since statistics show that immigrants commit less crimes than native-born Americans. If anything, most immigrants don't come here to cause violence but to flee violence back home."

At this point Lawrence's pasty white skin had become bright red and his Adams apple was tirelessly bobbing, contemplating on whether to swallow the extra spiciness I made Lita Maria add into the dish- just for the flavour, of course.

"Now that you mention it, you know the myth about 'immigrants taking over immigrant jobs and leaving lower wages'?" I continued, "Well, statistics also show that immigrants, in fact, help the economical growth by creating and working jobs. Didn't know that now, did you?"

By the time I had finished with my discourse, Lawrence was gulping down a tall glass of water, his face still flushed from the brutal battle his tongue had with the spices in the enchiladas.

Spices- 1, Lawrence's tongue- 0.

At this moment as I gazed at Lawrence and his luxurious attire of a Burberry suit- despite his wrinkly heated face and biased opinions, I couldn't help but remember this quote mamá had mentioned to me before.

"You know, there's this old Spanish proverb that goes, 'El habito no hace al monje' and for some odd reason, its been on my mind a lot," (The habit doesn't make the monk: clothes don't make the man)

"No sabía que te gustaban los proverbios españoles (I didn't know you liked Spanish proverbs)." Zachary's said in a monotone voice.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Slowly turning my head around, I faced Zachary and his surprisingly cool composure despite my insult to his father.

"You can speak Spanish?" I asked, looking away from him.

"Sí. Mi idioma favorito. (Yes. My favourite language.)" He said while taking a seat.

"Yes. My son has a great passion for languages and the arts, business aside." Lawrence boasted, chin raised.

"You must be very proud- just as I am of my daughter. Not only is she well read in languages and the arts but she's also a great political debater with a high intellect." Mamá paraded, making me roll my eyes in the process.

Yes. I was good at debating and I also had a higher IQ than most people but did she really need to advertise it?

Before Lawrence could display some more of Zachary's many attributes, my phone- thank heavens- started ringing.

Aera, the caller ID read.

"Excuse me, I'm going to have to take this." I apologised, exiting the room.

"Hey Aera, what's up?" I asked while proceeding to move the phone away from my ear, protecting myself from the music blasting in the other end.

"I'm at this party and you won't believe who I found."

"Who is it?" I asked, intrigued.

"You'll know when you get here!" She literally howled, knowing that I wouldn't be able to resist the suspense.

"You're drunk aren't you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah a little bit but you have to get here and see this for yourself!"

"Why cant you just say it?" I sighed.

"I don't know, I feel like annoying you."

"Well I'm busy right now so I cant come...you might as well just tell me." I sighed.

"Girl we all know that you're dying to know who it is. Just ditch whatever you're doing and come."

"I am going to kill you." I muttered.

"I'm telling you it's going to be worth it. I'll text you the address, Bye!"

Guess we're going to party. Just great.