Peaches 'N Cream

11. Hurt

"Jericho, why didn't you tell me that your friend was in town!?"

The brown-haired boy locked his phone and turned around to look at his mom standing in the doorway of his bedroom, hand on her hip. She had on the pale yellow apron he bought her last Christmas and a matching gele. Her skin was just a tad lighter than his, but he looked almost nothing like her.

Height, facial structure, and eye color were inherited from his father; the only thing he can say he received from her was his hair. If he cut it, he'd look just like the man, and then his mom would have an even more constant reminder of her estranged ex-husband, and he wouldn't be able to look in the mirror.

"Ma, who are you talking about?" Was she also wearing makeup? Even in the darkness, he saw a subtle gold shimmer on her eye-lids, and her lips were shiny.

She pouted at him, "The cute Vietnamese guy! I saw him today, and I forgot his name again already. It's been so long..."

Jericho's stomach did a dip. If they saw each other, that probably meant they exchanged contact information, and it always seemed like they got along great.

She only knows him because a few years ago, he came down to visit his mom, and he was allowed to bring Zeke with him. Just the three of them spent the entire summer together. It was also the same summer that Ezekiel kissed him and the last time they would see each other for a few years.

"Ezekiel."

He chewed on his bottom lip, letting the name even fall from his mouth was nauseating; their little encounter happened more than a week ago now. His mom's ageless face lit up like the northern lights as she clapped her hands together, a bright smile adorning her face.

"Yes! That's him. I invited him over for dinner tonight! He'll be here soon, so you need to get dressed." And with that, she rushed out and shut the door.

"Huh?"

Jericho checked the time at 5:30 pm, and it was a breezy Friday evening. He had taken a nap after school and was in bed for most of the day after that. These last few days had been, for lack of a better word, shit.

Between people nagging him about the party and yanking himself out of Joseph's magnificently irresistible orbit every few hours, proved extremely difficult and emotionally draining.

He refused to completely ignore him, though, until Ezekiel elaborated on whatever the hell he was talking about, there wasn't an issue. Groaning, he slowly rolled himself out of bed, and removed his night clothes to put on a long sleeve shirt and jeans, opting just to wet his afro, moisturize, and leave it out.

"She could've at least told me earlier, good lord..."

Jericho grumbled to himself the entire way down the stairs but stopped when the aroma of Jollof rice and dodo struck him across the face. His mom was quietly singing as she set the small table when he walked into the connecting kitchen. She turned around, pointed at him, and smiled when he walked in.

"Why don't you wear your hair out like that anymore! It looks nice."

It sounded like she was talking to herself more than to him, though, and he was going to respond, but the doorbell cut him off. His mom practically ripped off the apron and telling him to hurry up and answer it, as if he would leave anyway. The brown-haired boy walked over and lowered his head to check the peephole; sure enough, there he was.

He took several deep breaths, released them, and finally unlocked it so he could pull it open. Jericho wanted to shut the damn thing in his face already, maybe knock out a few teeth but his mom would smite him.