|Completed | A crossover w/ @_ntsha (go to her profile for her version!)
Four strangers from diverse walks of life meet on a cruise and spend an unforgettable week together-all of them on their own self-discovering journeys and onboard for different...
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I slammed my slice of pizza down as I heard someone knocking on my door. I never lock it, but I did today because I didn't want to be bothered after my 'meeting' with Zane. It wasn't even a meeting; he yelled, complained, and punched me. If he were just any guy on the street, I would've fucked him up, but he's capable of anything.
I swung the door open, ready to send whoever it was off, but it was my Mom. I kept my head down, grabbing the bags from her hands. "Hey, baby—" She cupped my face and glanced at the discoloration of my skin. "What the hell happened to your face?"
I shook out of her hold and turned around to set the bags on the table. "Nothing, mom. It's all good."
She closed the door behind her, and her strong floral scent crowded my apartment. When I turned around, she was digging into my freezer and said, "If it were all good, Gael, you wouldn't have a bruise on your face. Tell me what happened."
I threw myself on the couch, taking a bite of pizza. "I fell off my bike," I said, not wanting her to worry. Rachel, my Mom, is overly protective and nurturing even though I'm almost twenty-six. When my parents got separated, I got into some dumb shit, drinking, smoking and I put my mom through hell. I was a dumb ass teenager, and she fears she'll lose me, which won't happen.
My mom's dark hair followed her as she walked towards me with a bag of frozen vegetables. "Head back." She gestured her hands before she placed the bag under my eye.
She looked down at me with her chocolate brown eyes and arched her thin eyebrow. "Bike, huh? How many times did I tell you to get rid of that thing? Your Unc—"
I cut her off as she leaned her knee on my gray sectional. "Uncle Bruce got into a motorcycle accident and lost his leg. I know, I know." She wouldn't let me move, so I didn't fight it. "I don't drive crazy, but I'm fine. I don't need ice."
I replaced our hands as she started picking up items off the floor. "God, baby, does it hurt to clean some? I didn't decorate for you to keep it like this."
Since my mom is an interior designer, she decorated the entire apartment. She calls it industrial edge because my walls are black brick, and she didn't want to overdo it. It was more rustic with a mercurial vibe, with greys and golds. She even made a point to put the letter 'R' on my wall because of her name.
I laughed. "I was going to, but I got busy with work. Did you come to clean my apartment, Mom?"
"No. I brought you food because your diet consists of junk, beer, and eggs, which isn't healthy. You're not young anymore and beer bellies run with the men in the family." My mom started folding the clothes I had left out and straightening things that were misplaced. She has bad OCD, and everything has to be perfect. "Really? A bra?"
I ran my hands down my face and laughed. "It's Noah's. He gained a lot of weight since you last saw him."
She turned around and gave me a dry look that screamed bullshit. Once she finished loading dishes into the dishwasher, she said, "How is Noah, by the way? It's been a while. Is he still next door?"
