Stay in? Not exactly her scene.
I sniff the air, smelling a faint scent of baked goods. “Are you baking something?” I ask, placing my duffle bag on the kitchen table. She’s never been the cooking type. The only “home cooked” meals I got growing up were the ‘ready-made food trays’ you’d buy from Costco whenever my dad was busy. She’d throw them in the microwave and call it a day.
But, baking. Baking she only ever did when she was anxious.
“Jesus, Noah. Take your stuff off the table. Don’t berude,” Mom mutters behind me as she shuffles in.
I roll my eyes, but begrudgingly, I do as she says. I look to my right to see Brad watching me and instantly feel my ears burn. Fuck, I don’t want him to see me getting in trouble. I’m not a little boy.
In and out. In and out.I repeat the reminder in my head.
“Whatever. I’m not staying. Brad was just dropping me off at my car—” I mutter, turning to leave.
“No, no, no—” Mom whines, rushing towards me, slipping my duffel bag off my shoulder and placing it on the ground. “Stay for a few minutes, at least. I’ve got to talk to you both about something important.” She giggles, dancing over to the cupboards.
“Veronica, what’s going on?” Brad asks, standing beside me.
There’s a strange feeling in the air. Something feels off and it’s clear Brad can sense it too.
Does she know about what happened this weekend? Did we accidentally call her during one of our…moments? I rack my brain of all the worst-case possibilities.
“I want to hear all about your camping trip. It’s so nice that you were able to go away together and spend that quality time,” she says, opening one of the drawers, taking out an apron and slipping on some oven mitts.
Why is she being so weird?
“It was…whatever.” I lie. “And, it’s not like we’re best friends now or anything.” I shrug.
Brad shoots me a look but I try not to let mine linger.
“Well, that’s not very nice, Noah,” Mom mumbles, ducking her head down into the oven. “I really wanted this weekend to change things for you two. Bring you both together.” She reaches in and we watch as she pulls out a loaf of bread.
I know my mother doesn’t cook so why the hell did she buy a loaf to eat at 10 o clock at night?
“Well, sometimes people don’t really… mix.” Brad coughs nervously, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He eyes what she’s doing and steps forward. “Veronica, do you need help?”
She bats his hand away. “No. No, please. Sit down, the both of you.” She insists, placing the hot loaf on a cooling rack on the kitchen table.
I swallow deeply, thinking about sitting on that chair.
Remembering what’s between my cheeks, I squeeze my legs to stifle the hardening that’s happening in my pants. This is not the place I should be feeling this.
Brad and I exchange awkward glances once again before following her orders, taking a seat across from her as she stands at the other side.
She sighs, looking at us both with a big beaming smile on her face. It’s actually kind of terrifying really. Mom is only happy like this when she’s up to something.
“I really hope you two can come together soon.” Mom's eyes bounce between Brad and I, she nips at her thumb, the same way I do when I’m nervous. I hate that I honestly share any qualities with her at all.
“Because…well…” She looks down at the bread, nervously biting her lower lip, and then back at us unexpectedly.
What is going on?
She takes in a deep breath, obviously amping herself up for some big news to share.
“Veronica…what—” Brad shakes his head, until he cuts himself off. I look over at him and see his eyes wide, his mouth dropped open. I can almost see the chill climb up his spine from here.
Why do I feel like I’m fully out of the loop here?
Myblood starts to boil as I watch them communicate something between each other in silence.
