"Let me get this straight, you wear your PJs all day until you shower and get ready for church. You're at church for about two hours, and then you go home and change back into PJs?" Ethan said. He was FaceTiming me while I was getting ready to go to Christmas mass.

"Yes," I said as I slipped on my maroon dress. I had a sports bra and spandex on, so I knew Ethan wasn't going to see anything. "Why is that so hard to grasp?"

"It just seems a little bizarre to me that you only dress up for a few hours."

"Well, I can't wear PJs to mass, and I have no reason to look nice for longer," I said as I zipped up the back of my dress with ease.

"Did you just zip up your dress without any help? I thought girls always need help zipping up their dresses? Are you a monster?"

"Puhlease, after four years of marching band and concert band, I rarely need someone to zip me up. Only if the dress is slightly tight." I smoothed out my dress and grabbed my black flats to wear. I wasn't going to put them on until the very last minute because I hated dress shoes with a passion.

Ethan smiled and said, "You look beautiful." There was a look in his eyes that can only be described as the way Flynn Ryder, or Eugene, if you prefer, looks at Rapunzel during the boat scene. The problem is I shouldn't have caught him staring at me like that. He was supposed to look at me like that when I'm not paying attention. Failure.

"Thanks, I know," I said as I hung up. I plugged my phone in to charge since I wasn't going to be able to use it at church. My parents would yell at me. I closed my door behind me and quickly went to the bathroom for a last-minute check. I can't be looking like my usual gremlin self at Christmas mass. It is one the few times of the few times a year I am forced to dress up. Soon, I'll be back in my PJs.

If anyone has been to a catholic Christmas or Easter mass, you know to even get a seat, you have to be there an hour early just for an hour-long mass. Why? Because all of the Chreaster parishioners come out of hiding, doubling the usual amount of people. So what do three adult children do when they have an hour of "pray time"? We started whispering to one another. Heck, my brother and I began to do thumb wars until my mom told us to behave. Did she actually expect us to pray?

Once we got home from church, I took off straight to my room. There was no way I was staying in my dress any longer. They had me in it for a whole two hours. It was back to PJs.

I grabbed my phone, shoved it into my pocket in my PJ pants, and made my way back downstairs. I was greeted by Ryan walking past me with a drink in his hand. He handed me the glass, and I took a sip.

"That's gross," I said as I handed him back his drink. He drinks Jack Daniels mixed with Coke. I just discovered that Jack is disgusting.

"Yeah," Sam said as I walked over to her and my mom. Mom was mixing Limoncello with lemonade for us. It tastes just like lemonade but better than Mikes Hard Lemonade. "Whiskey is nasty."

Mom handed us drinks and said, "Get out of my kitchen." Sam and I took our drinks and made our way to the living room where my dad was currently choosing what Christmas special we were going to watch. Every Christmas Eve, we invite my grandparents over for dinner after church. We drank, ate, talked, and watched Christmas specials.

When my grandparents on my mom's side showed up, they brought along some goodies that my grandma and Sam made the past couple of days. My mom also set up some appetizers of crackers, cheese, summer sausage, veggies, and of course, a shrimp ring for Ryan. This way, we could snack while she finished making dinner and didn't have to hear us complain. Let's just say she knew her family a little too well.

"So Hailey, how did your semester go? Did anything exciting happen?" My grandpa asked. My mom and grandma were in the kitchen, talking.

"You know, the same," I said. I took a quick drink. "Passed all of my classes."

"Really? Sam says, you have a boyfriend now." Remember when I said nothing was a secret in my family? This was what I meant. Now both sides of my family knew because my sister couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"He isn't my boyfriend."

"Are you sure about that?" Sam teased.

I glared at her and said, "Mind your own business and quit telling people mine. I'll tell people about my life when I feel like it."

"So, never?"

"If that is my choice, then yeah."

"Knock it off, you two," My dad said. That shut us up quickly. Sam being home, drives me crazy. I love her, but she is bossy, annoying, talkative, and super clingy when she is home. Sam needs physical affection, and when she was twice your size, it was exhausting. Plus, she never shut up and always had an opinion for everything. It drove everyone insane.

My mom soon announced food was ready, and we all went to the kitchen to get our food. Once we all got our food, we made our way back to the living room. My dad turned on my mom's favorite Christmas special, A Year Without a Santa Claus, and we all focused on the special.

"He's Mr. White Christmas. He's Mr. Snow. He's Mr. Icicle. He's Mr. Ten Below. Friends call me Snow Miser. Whatever I touch turns to snow in my clutch! I'm too much," Sam, my mom, and I all sang. It was the best song out of the best Christmas special. Who doesn't love how extra the Miser Brothers are? "I'm Mr. Green Chrsitams. I'm Mr. Sun. I'm Mr. Heat Blister. I'm Mr. One Hundred and One. They call me Heat Miser. Whatever I touch. Starts to melt in my clutch! I'm too much."

"So, Sam says you have a boyfriend," my grandma says.

I groaned, "He isn't my boyfriend. He is a friend from school."

"Just a friend?"

"Yes, just a friend. Sam had guy friends up at school. Why didn't you guys ever bug her about it?"

"Because she never liked one of them, nor did they flirt with her, nor did one give her his hoodie," My mom said.

"He gave you a hoodie?" Sam asked in shock.

"Yes," I said as I finished my drink. "Not that it is any of your business."

We all talked a little more before my grandparents left. One by one, we all started to go to bed. Before I went up, I made sure to leave out cookies, milk, notepad, and pen because you could never be too old to leave out cookies for Santa.