Fifty | 1 day, 5th hour
“No way,” “Vince, come on.” “No.” “Pretty please?” Our oldest brother crosses his arms over his chest, his feet tapping, his blue eye obviously glaring at us triplets. Vincent’s body covers at least two-thirds of the frame of the door, but this doesn’t’ stop him from not letting us pass. “Mom’s coming home in like, seven hours,” He says again. He said that a while ago. “I’m not coming. I have to go pick her up from the airport and who knows when we’ll even be home if we all go to the beach. And who goes to the beach at five in the morning?” “Apparently we do?” Chey, Ian and I say in unison. “And Blake. Chace. Tristan. Cain. Who else, again, Stella?” My sister asks me in a high pitched voice, her hand poised over her waist. “Well, whatever, there’s like, a lot of us going, Vincent. Y
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