Your parents are as thrilled as ever to see you.
"Y/n!" they exclaim in unison, reaching in to hug you heartily.
People had always told you that you were the perfect combination of the two of them. The right nose, right eyes, the right smile, it was a wonder how different you had turned out personality-wise. Almost as if the universe was mocking you.
"Hi!" you cheer back with a smile as big as you can muster. You loved your parents of course, but why had they decided to turn up now of all times?
"We were in the area," your mother explains, an overly fervent tone in her voice, "so we decided to stop by!"
"That's great!" you reply, doing your very best to hide the exhaustion in your voice. Deep down, something told you that your parents hadn't just been "in the area". They lived forty minutes away. There was something else that brought them here.
The last time they'd visited, you hadn't had much time to prepare and the place was presented in shambles. Your father looks around the apartment, eyes brightening when he realizes how clean it is. Ironic how this time around, you hadn't even had time to prepare. "And where's our future son-in-law?" he asks.
"Xander's away, I told you—"
Ironically, Jamie strolls into the den, hands shoved in pockets, chain dangling over his white crewneck, hair about in a way that wasn't messy but wasn't neat. To one's dismay, anything that wasn't neat was messy to your parents. Predictably, their mouths drop open at the sight.
You'd thought, after going against his idea of going out of his way to tell your parents he wasn't into women, he would have stayed in your room. Apparently not.
"Oh, I didn't know you had guests, honey," comments your mother.
"No, no, no, don't worry!" you blurt out. "He's just a friend!"
Jamie takes an unfazed step towards your parents, extending a hand. "Hello," he says, politely. "I'm Jamie."
Your mother's arched brows relax at Jamie's tone and she almost smiles. She takes his hand and shakes it, your father soon doing the same. "Nice to meet you, Jamie."
Jamie smiles back as your mouth hangs open now. You'd never expected him to win them over so fast. Why was his nature so warm? So entrancing and calm? You scan your parents' faces for any snobbish expression, but there were no traces. How had Jamie won them over so quickly?
"That's funny, I've never heard of you until now," notes your father. "Did you two meet recently?"
Jamie laughs. "Actually, it is funny. I came out of a type—"
"He's actually a friend of Tom's!" you lie, jabbing Jamie in the side. He the spot dejectedly.
The silence turned suddenly awkward as your parents glanced back and forth between the two of you. You clear your throat and attempt to keep the conversation going.
"So, how have you two been doing?" you ask the picture-perfect couple standing before you. They wore casual, but nice clothes standing tall with prideful expressions.
"Great, great!" says your mother. "But really, we came to check on you." Her expression was unreadable, there was something hidden beneath her joyful poise.
"Check on me?" you question, amusedly. "But I'm fine."
"Well, it's more of a proposal. If you don't mind," says your father, as he strolls over to make himself at home on the leather couch in the living room. Your mother finds her way to his side, the two of them plopped next to each other contently on the sofa.
"Oh, well, okay then," you mumble, not knowing how to feel about this whole encounter.
Jamie glances at you puzzledly, but you can only shrug. You were just as confused as him. The two of you stroll over to sit on the smaller loveseat beside the sofa, curiously waiting for your parents to continue on. Jamie sits a fair distance away, not enough for you to feel entirely alone, but also not too close to be uncomfortable.
A slight smile finds your father's lips. "Your mother and I thought it'd be best for you to join the family business."
"What?!" you shriek, jaw-dropping.
"We know, it's big news," your mother chuckles, intertwining her hand with your father's.
It seems only Jamie has taken notice of your appalled expression. You sit there, in shock as you try to process your mother's words. You came from a family of, well, accountants. They'd even convinced you to go to school for it, but it wasn't till after you graduated college that you realized it was the last thing you wanted to do.
"Mom," you start, "you know that's never been my thing."
"But why put your degree to waste?"
You take a deep breath, trying to chill your patience. You can't remember one time in your life when your parents had ever understood anything you'd personally chosen to do with your life. This time was no different.
"I won't have time to write my novel if I take that up," you explain.
Your father waves it off. "Sure you will. You'll always have time for hobbies."
"That's not a hobby—"
"Y/n," interrupts your mother. "Please. We only want what's best for you." Her words come out soft and slow as she tries to reason with you. It only agitates you further, but your mother's not done. You can tell by the way she looks expectantly at your father. "Which is why we think you should marry Xander."
You wanted nothing more than to melt into the couch and disappear forever. This couldn't be happening. No. You can even feel Jamie tense up beside you, his jaw is clenched and his hands grip the hem of his shirt as he fidgets with it unconsciously.
"Maybe you should tell them you're not into men," Jamie whispers to you under his breath, but beneath his snicker, his voice is rigid.
Sure, your parents could be overbearing at times, maybe even strict, but this? Absolutely not. This was too much even for them.
"What's going on?" you ask.
Your father shakes his head. "Nothing's going on. You and Xander have been dating for almost five years. Don't you think it's time?"
No amount of breathing could lengthen your patience now. Your blood was slowly heating, anger steadily rising. Jamie taps your side, leaning in to quietly show you something.
It was the weather app on his phone. He points to a cloud hanging over the light blue screen. It was to rain in a little over an hour. His blue eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second and then he winks. That's all it takes for you to understand what he suggests you do.
"Hey, I'll have to give it some thought," you reply meekly. "But you guys should go now. Beat the rain."
Your father looks out the window and nods in agreement. The sky was already a heavy grey. "You're right, you know how much I hate the rain."
Your mother smiles and stands from her seat, extending her arms out for a hug. "Sorry, about the short visit. We'll plan better next time." The laughter in her voice is shaky.
You stand and confide yourself in her embrace. No matter what, she was still your mother and you still loved her. For a second, you're five years old again, hiding in her arms.
But of course, you weren't five. You were a boring adult with boring decisions to make. An endless cycle of hell.
"Are you okay, mom?" you ask, taking notice of her glossy eyes.
"Never been better." She smiles, pulling away as she gathers her things.
"Bye, Y/n!" your father calls as they head out the door. "And nice meeting you again, Jamie!"
Jamie waves, a wide grin plastered on his face. This time you can't tell if it's a real smile or a fake one. "Goodbye!"
A big huff escapes you when the front door closes, signaling their departure. All the emotions come swelling back inside you. Your thoughts bounce off each other in a furious match of ping-pong. Yes. No. Maybe so. Over and over again until the words are overwhelming.
"I can't believe them!" you scoff, throwing your hands up in the air. "They came all this way for that?!"
Jamie's still standing even after you've collapsed back onto the couch. His arms are crossed and his eyes stare off as if he were deep in thought. He runs a finger through his hair. After a long moment, he asks, "Do you want to?'
"Do I want to what?"
"Do you want to marry Xander?" he clarifies. There's not a tinge of accusation in his voice, not even hurt—at least, none that you can detect, he just sounds utterly curious. He sounds like all he had in mind was your well-being. It was amazing how much emotion he could convey with just a few words, but it wasn't the words, you realize. It was how he said them.
There was only one answer to that question. "Not right now, I don't," you reply. Throughout your relationship, the idea had come up a few times but you'd never imagined yourself actually going through with it. You'd always put it off, hoping he'd never ask, but if that was how you felt, it was obvious what your response should have been.
"Then, it's settled," he shrugs. "Tell them that."
"But that was so weird," you murmur. "They're never like that. They sounded like they were being held at gunpoint or something."
Jamie scoffs. "You never know these days."
You roll your eyes. "Not funny."
"Not even a little bit?" he teases.
Your laugh comes out as a weak breath through your nose. The dull hum of the fridge can be heard in the sudden quietness of the conversation had fallen to. Jamie resumes his position at your side, still a fair distance away.
"I think," he says, "you should do what makes you happy. You don't have to worry about pleasing others all the time."
"Yeah?" you mumble. "It's harder than it looks."
"I know," he nods. "I've been there."
"You?"
"Of course. I've lived a life, you know, even if I don't remember." He eases back into the soft material of the sofa, leaning his head back against the cushion so that his chin is tilted up. He sighs before turning to look at you. "What is it you want to do?"
The question was so complicated yet so simple. You furrow your brows in thought, absently picking at the bracelets on your wrist. What is it you want to do? No one had ever asked you that before.
Jamie chuckles, shaking his head which causes his blond locks to ruffle around. It makes him look more endearing with his bright eyes and soft smile. His chiseled jaw should have made him look more intimidating, but at the moment, he looked softer than you could have ever imagined.
It gave you butterflies, the way he looked at you. You think that maybe, just maybe, that was your new favorite feeling, but you push it away. It was annoying and you'd never acknowledge it fully. It wasn't like you could afford to anyway.
"Don't think about it," Jamie orders, but his words come out as nothing more than a gentle murmur between his lips.
"I want to write," you respond, surely.
He nods, eyes staring into you understandingly. "Well, write then."
"Okay," you smile, before remembering something. "But maybe, we could read first?" you say happily. "You know that story like the back of your hand. What's next to recreate?"
"Well..." Jamie smiles back, rubbing his hand together mischievously. "Can you roller skate?"