porter was your stereotypical, picket fence white boy, with an older sister, a dog, and two happily married parents. think disney movie type family. sparkling blue eyes, unruly blond hair, that million dollar smile. he was what you envisioned when you think of the american dream. everyone believed he’d go on to keep that picture perfect lifestyle.

enter you, the girl he just so happened to run into. he was at the mall with his friends, you with yours. he wasn’t paying any attention (cracking corny, disgusting jokes with his bros), running right into you, letting out a shocked gasp when he felt you collide into his chest with a thud.

that was it. the point of no return.

your warm dark skin, your chocolatey brown eyes that looked up at him with a huff from those pretty, plump lips. you were nothing like what he grew up with. and he was absolutely obsessed. it was almost a bit off-putting, watching him stammer for words as he apologized. you felt bad watching him make a fool of himself in front of his friends, shaken out of the trance you put him in and running to catch up with you, pathetically begging for a date.

and now look at you: together for seven years, married for three. you two were expecting a little girl a few days after of new years. porter decided it’d be good to host the riggs’ annual christmas dinner at your home this year, and after some heavy thinking and considering, you agree. you knew they didn’t like you, but what could they do? it was time to put an end to whatever battle they had with you.

after hundreds spent of decorations and hours spent in the kitchen, the party began, your family and his arriving one after another.