By 4 am on Friday, I am awake and mixing cake ingredients in the kitchen for a jackass who confuses the hell out of me. My movements are slow as I hop from one corner to another, getting the pan and other items ready. I might have won last night’s match but Pablo did a good one on me. The bastard managed a kick to my cheek before I knocked him out. I will need an extra layer of foundation to hide the marks.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing?”
If I wasn’t so sleepy, I might have jumped out of my skin in shock but my body delays my reaction to her presence. I blink sleepily at Mum, she saunters to the sink to fill her empty glass. “Baking, Mum.”
“By this time?” She rubs the back of her hand against her eyes and leans on the fridge for support. Her gaze runs over me, I must look the sight with flour on my face and fingers buried in dough. “What time is it?”
“Um, I don’t know.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. I know it’s too early for me to be awake. “Err...I’m not sure.”