Perfect Obsession

Chapter 7 || Damn Right I Would

𝐑 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐍' 𝐒   𝐏 𝐎 𝐕

"Deciphering metabolism in terms of microbiology is basically the small molecules produced by the microorganisms—"

Blanking out the rest of Professor Erikson's explanation, I lean back in my chair. One of many in the lecture theater. The vibration of my phone has me rolling my eyes. The people closest to me and in front of me keep turning their heads or flickering their eyes over to me, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Miles' constant influx of messages is annoying the surrounding people.

Sighing, I take my phone out of my pocket and read the messages coming from the group chat.

Miles: Dude, just let me come!

Me: No.

Miles: Why not???

Isaiah: I can feel you pouting through your messages.

I chuckle at Isaiah's comment, getting a few looks from around me. I clear my throat before dropping my eyes back to my phone.

Me: Why do you want to come so badly, anyway?

Miles: Because barely anyone can boil a damn egg in this house, let alone a full meal. I'm wasting away and your mom's cooking is heaven.

Isaiah: Here's an idea. Learn to cook yourself.

Miles: ...why would I do that?

Me: Answer is still no.

Miles: Why?!

Me: You know why, every time you check out my sister and every time my sister threatens to end my life if I keep bringing you around when she's there...which she will be.

Miles: She secretly loves me.

Me: Keep telling yourself that.

"That's it for today. Don't forget there will be a test at the end of the week on amino acid nomenclature and structure."

Turning my phone off vibrate and onto complete silence at this point, I put it away in time for the professor to wrap up the class. As everyone packs their things away, I throw my bag over my shoulder and exit the theater before heading to the parking lot where my truck sits. Climbing into my truck and putting the key in the ignition, I roll down the window and pull away from the BU campus.

Tapping my fingers against the steering wheel as I turn up the radio, I head towards my family home in Cambridge. Stopping in for family dinners is a once a week must for my mom, since my sister and I both have our own places.

As I drive into the heart of Cambridge, the mixture of historic buildings and the square, along with the more modern skyscrapers, comes into view. Turning away from the main hustle and bustle, I make my way to the outskirts where my childhood home rests, in a classic American neighborhood.

The two-story home comes into view, and I park up next to my sister's car. Stretching my muscles as soon as I'm out, I lock the truck before heading inside the house. The smell of mom's cooking wafts through the house as soon as I step foot in it.

Closing the door behind me, a snort comes from Buster as he lies in his dog bed. His head lifts and in classic bulldog style, he makes no move to get up, but waits until I head over to him.

"Hey, Buster." I run my hand over his rolls as I pet him, and he turns onto his stomach. I spend a few moments with him before heading into the kitchen. My sister sits at the breakfast bar, a glass of wine in her hand still dressed in her work clothes, and my mom wanders around the kitchen preparing dinner. "You can celebrate now, your favorite child is here."