♠Chapter 33♠

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  I stepped into the back of my shoes, listening to Nate rattle on about beating me in Call of Duty the second he gets my playstation up and running. Sorry to let him know I'm not playing. I have a project due in a couple weeks that I needed to start. I have to get through at least half of it today, because I know I'm gonna forget it at some point. So if I already have most of it done, then I can spend the night before it's due finishing it. That is, if I don't finish it today and forget later on.

  We both shrugged our bags off and let them fall to the floor heavily. My school bag and Nate's duffel. He plans on staying the weekend, so I stopped over at his place after I got off work and picked him up. That was after I asked my mother, of course.

  I stared at my best friend blankly when he shoved his coat into my chest for me to take.

  "You're the host." He said in a 'duh' tone, giving me a look.

  I rolled my eyes and snatched the heavy thing from his hand before pulling the coat closet's door open and hooking the collar of his coat over the hanger on the other side of it. I shrugged mine off next and hung it next to his, then busied myself with chucking our shoes inside the closet and pushing the door closed after.

  "You said your mom's home?"

  I nodded, "Yeah, just shout, she'll come out of wherever she's hiding," I snickered, looking over my shoulder to check that the front door was locked before I walked up next to him.

  We glanced at each other for a second, smirking, then tilted our heads back and boomed at the top of our lungs, "MOM!"

  Ever since I could remember, Nate and I had always done this whenever he came over. It was something that started in first grade when he first started coming over. I was usually the one who called her, but then he started joining in. So it became a thing.

  We fell into a fit of laughter; hunched over and shoving at each other playfully as we headed for the kitchen.

  And as you'll have it, my mother was sitting at the breakfast island, a steaming mug in one hand held up to her lips, and an open book in the other—totally unbothered. It's like she didn't hear us come in. But I know she did, she just stopped acknowledging us since a couple years back and wait for us to come find her and annoy her like we usually did. I catch her running sometimes when we come over, it's comical.

  I grinned as I rounded the marble counter and threw my arm over her shoulders, "Hello," I drawled, peering at her book pages, "What are you reading?" I tilted my head until my temple was resting on her hair.

  "Erotica," she said easily, while I fought the bile rising up my throat.

  I held back a gag, stepping away from her and briefly catching Nate's awestruck gaze, as I clutched my throat, shuddering repulsively. I wish I could say I was forcing this reaction but I wasn't. It was entirely real, because my mother has never said anything like that around me before. And if I was being honest here, I'd say she's been a lot more open vocally ever since I turned eighteen. Although, this was very new.

  "Christian!"

  I turned my attention to her, a distasteful look on my face because of the amount of energy it was taking me not to vomit on the tiled floor.

 "It's a cookbook," she stressed, shaking her head at the look on my face. She shook the paperback in her hand briefly, drawing my attention to it. Fine Wine & Foods. "Can you read?" She retorted, setting it down on the counter.

  "Then why'd you-" a shudder wracked through me, cutting off my protest.

  I barely got to see her shrug since my eyes had closed of their own accord. "Because you find it funny coming in here everyday and making a ruckus."

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