[Closed Thread | Brett's house: Santiago and Brett]
Scanning his eyes thoroughly over the kitchen, Brett quickly nods his head in approval while gripping onto a notepad of paper and a pen in each hand. He strikes out the last task he finishes and soon after finds himself fascinated by the rubber pom-pom at the end of the utensil.
There was no time for that-- he glances up at the clock-- it was already six fourty-five.
For some reason this all feels like more than just a casual dinner, but Brett just can't place his finger on what makes it different from all the previous ones. Was it the lit candles on the table? The dimmed lighting in the dining room? Perhaps it was the wine glasses filled with Pepsi? Who knew, really.
His mom side-glances him from the other side of the room. Brett can see her eyebrows furrowed and he can tell she suspects something, but he attempts to be as nonchalant about the occasion as possible. The timer beeps, but just as Brett reaches to open the oven door, he hears a few knocks on the door and his eyes widen. "Mom, can you get the pizza? Santiago's here!" Before she can reply, he bounds down the stairs like an excited child on Christmas morning and swings open the front door. Brett knows he's beaming but he just can't hide it. "Hi."
He wants to speak more, but he knows that just one quick word says everything.