[FREE STORY WITH EXCLUSIVE CHAPTERS]
When George Shaw tries to find a plan for the last fifteen days to spend with his best friend, who he's had a crush on for as long as he can remember, all he needs is a map to plot out a road trip and his daily h...
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The rest of the afternoon went by helping my mother in the kitchen with simple chores like setting the table, making the salad, and taking the trash out. I added canned corn to the salad because Abby loved it. Though I wanted to replay the trip earlier, being at home felt so good—I really missed spending time here. Mom told me some tips about the meals she cooked, which I wasn't going to remember in a few days probably, but I listened to her eagerly then because it was a rare moment. We usually didn't spend time together since I grew old enough to go out and hung out at parties rather than at home.
"Go rest a little," I said when we were almost done with our menu except for the chocolate cake in the oven. "I'll keep an eye on the cake and take it out when it's ready."
"Sure you won't burn it?" My mom asked hesitantly. She wanted everything to be perfect, though it was just Abby. However, whenever I remembered this fact, she said it was the first time I brought my girlfriend home, so it was special. Well, I admit it made a giddy feeling in my stomach when she said girlfriend.
When she was assured that I could handle the rest, she left the kitchen, leaving me with the dim light and a cake in the oven still about to swell. I watched my mother bake a cake a few times before and I would understand when it was ready. Bored, I pulled out my phone to text Abby to ask when she would arrive but Brandon's message on the screen altered my attention.
dude are you back?
Yes.
cool! we are gonna party tomorrow night @ stacey. you gotta come
I gotta ask Abby, will let you know ok?
roy said you guys are dating is it true
We are not official but yeah.
dudeeee
you gotta come okkk
I probably gave him enough information to cook up a rumor about me dating Abby, but I wasn't bothered by that—well, in our situation, it was the case, but we didn't announce it yet. I suddenly remembered the cake and saw it grew enormous in the oven but didn't burn out yet. I quickly reached and opened the oven and pulled the tray out with bare hands and burned myself instead.
"Fuck," I whispered, running to the sink, and applying cold water on my burned skin to ease the pain. My mother came in immediately and checked the cake. "George," she said, looking between me and the cake. "You okay, baby?"
"I'm fine," I said as she came and checked my hands. As she grabbed a towel from a drawer to pull the cake out of the oven, she asked me to go apply the cream to prevent my hands from swelling. I did as I was told, going upstairs to use one of my mother's hand creams. I cursed myself for being so reckless, but my hands hurt like a bitch. It just hurt more when I applied the cream, but I bit my tongue not to scream. I had only one job—fuck you, George.
