FORTY-EIGHT

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"Mum, calm down," I pleaded, clasping my mum's shoulders to steer her away from where she was obsessively watching over the roast in the oven. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her brow, the heat radiating from the appliance casting an orange glow across her face. 

"Wes, you were the one who told me that your boyfriend was a good cook," mum huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face, stepping around my to begin obsessing over the salad she was preparing.

"Mum, it's fine, he's not picky with food," I groaned, wincing a little as she frantically chopped a cucumber into small pieces that were maybe a little too small. Mum whirled around at that, raising a brow, knife stopping mid air.

"You said that you had never tasted pasta better than his," mum said, the corner of her mouth twitching as she saw my face redden. Shaking her head and turning back to the slaughtered cucumber, mum continued. "We can't have him thinking that his boyfriend's family has no palate."

"Ooookay," I drawled, plucking a piece of cucumber from the chopping board and popping it into my mouth, mum giving me a sideways glance. I was about to try and steal another cucumber slice, but was pushed away from the food by Jamie, who was carrying a large bowl over her head.

"Move, move, move!" Jamie called out, almost knocking my forehead with the bowl. 

"Jamie, what the hell," I grumbled, my sister snickering as she placed the large bowl onto the counter beside mum. 

"You were in the way," Jamie grinned, kicking my with her foot. "Anyway, the kitchen is way too cramped for the three of us, so go and set the table or something." Flipping my sister a discreet bird behind mum's back, which was returned by a much less discreet one from Jamie (the back of her head getting smacked by mum), I went to set the table.

Setting up three places like normal, I couldn't help but smile to myself as I clutched onto the fourth plate, stroking its rim as I carefully placed it beside my own. 

Nico's place.

It has been a few days since the whole coming out debacle, and things had somewhat settled down. It had taken a good moment for mum to begin to say the word 'boyfriend' without sounding forced, but it hadn't taken her long to get over her initial apprehension to invite Nico to dinner to meet him officially. Butterflies flitted around in my stomach as I quickly set up the cutlery and napkins, my phone buzzing in my pocket as I lay down Nico's share.

Checking my phone, my heart flipped when Nico's face shone on the screen, a request for a video call blinking up at me. Smoothing my wayward hair down quickly before answering, my smile widened immediately when I saw Nico blinking back at me, a matching grin on his face.

"Babe," Nico said, switching the camera away from his face to show his full form in a floor-length mirror. "Is this okay?"

"What?" I asked, blinking a few times as Nico rolled his eyes, stepping closer to the mirror.

"My clothes," Nico said, as if he were stating the obvious. "Are they okay?" Looking away from his face and at his clothes, I noticed Nico wearing a button up shirt and freshly ironed jeans, his hair a little damp and freshly washed. Although he was always extremely handsome, he had never dressed as neatly as he did now, and it was as if I was seeing a whole new Nico. Nico tilted his head to the side and cleared his throat, a small smirk playing at his lips in the reflection. "Like what you see, Wes? You're staring."

"You... You're asking me about your outfit?" I asked, my chuckle laced with embarrassment at being caught staring. Nico sighed at my words, switching the camera back to his face, which was growing a little exasperated. 

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