Familiar | Kajemac

Chapter 8

KJ's POV

A chandelier glitters above the granite countertop of my kitchen island. Teal tiles wrap the room, defining the confines for Mom to make her meal. Her hair is curly like mine, but she wears it down, ringlets sitting like clouds on her hot pink cardigan. Beside her, my girlfriend helps with chopping green red onions. It's amusing, really, how a month ago she wouldn't even lift her finger to help anyone else, but now she's helping my mom cook without even needing to be asked. I watch her from my stool at the island, distracted from my schoolwork. I'd rather focus on her with her bright eyes and red hair that falls over her face in thin strands that she has to brush back frequently. Every once in a while, her eyes catch mine staring, and she gives me a smirk. 

"Mac, honey, would you get the tongs for me?" my mom asks. 

"Sure."

Mac spins around and retrieves them from the drawer to pass to my mom. She knows exactly where they are; she's spent enough time here. She likes it better than her house, and I certainly don't mind. 

My mom places the tongs down in the salad bowl and hits Mac with another request. "Can you please grab the olive oil too?"

"On it."

"Mom," I chime in, "Mac isn't your assistant."

"Well, I'd ask you to help, but you refused. Your friend doesn't even complain."

"Hey, I'm studying, I defend." 

I hold up my English textbook, but my mom waves it off with her hand. 

"How do you always have homework, but Mac has none? Do public schools not give homework?"

"Not to me," Mac fibs, suppressing her smirk. I give Mac a look, and she grins wider. 

"Okay, well, the potatoes are just about done. You girls go wash your hands, and then we'll be ready to eat."

I stand up and wait for Mac to come around to meet me before heading down the hall to the washroom. Mac pushes up her jacket sleeves and turns on the sink as I close the door behind us. After I've finished washing and drying, I wait for Mac, letting my eyes rest on her freckles and trace the shape of her nose down over her lips. They shine glossy with the coconut lip balm I gave her, because she would always let her lips dry to the point where they bled. She only agreed to finally use lip balm when I told her I'd want to kiss her more if her lips weren't cracked.

 "My mom loves you," I say. 

Mac's eyes meet mine in the mirror as she smiles back. 

"She's not the only one," I add. 

My heart beats brash behind my ribs as I monitor her response. I'm scared, but I wouldn't take it back, even if she doesn't react well. I mean it. 

"Your dad?" she jokes with furrowed brows. 

"No. I mean yes, but..." I take a shivering breath "...also me. I love you, Mac."

Mac turns off the tap and turns to face me, her eyes curious. Then a little smirk crosses her face.

"That's the first time you've said that to me," she points out. 

"I guess so, yeah."

Her smirk breaks into a grin as she chuckles and says "That's pretty gay."

Her teasing calms my nerves, and I roll my eyes, holding in a smile. In response, Mac brings her hands to my jaw, pulls me down to her height, and kisses me. When she lets me go, I can still feel her wet handprints on my cheeks.