The Players Baby

During chapter twelve

a/n: screw it

|Michael Kingston|

I shifted my weight from foot to foot repeatedly, glancing down at the floor. November had just suggested to . . . Have sex now? Is she drunk? High? Does she have a fever? Is she ill? The November that I know would usually suggest something like this. I guess people change, right? No . . .

"Uhm, are you okay?" I asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "What do you mean?"

"That's just not something you would suggest, is all . . ." I muttered.

"Well," she sighed, "we might as well get it over with."

"I mean, I guess so." She didn't respond, but she nodded, pressing her lips together. "So, when do you wanna start?"

"Uh, not now," she laughed.

"Well then when?" I asked.

"I'll get back to you on that." She patted my shoulder with her hand and walked away. I stood there for a few more seconds, processing what just happened, before I just shook my head and left my bedroom.

I darted down the stairs and into the kitchen to find my mom cooking.

"Mom..." I started.

"Yes, dear?" she hummed.

"Why are you cooking.."

She paused what she was doing and turned to look at me. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "I mean, we have people for that."

"Doesn't mean I can't cook?" she responded.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Never said that."

"Mhm," she turned back to what looked like mixing things together in a pan on the stove.

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a/n: I know it's still short and I know I'm a bitch ok

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