The Sweetest Fruit ( Tomboy 🏳️‍🌈Love Story )

41. She will always catch me

Sonia

My mother’s fashion sense has always been... unique. Today, she’s in a faded floral blouse that looks like it belongs to another decade and a pair of black pants that hang awkwardly on her curvy frame. She adjusts her glasses, peering over the rim to inspect MJ like she’s some kind of alien specimen.

“So, you’ve started bringing boys into my house?”

The words are a punch to my dignity. “Mum!” I exclaim, heat rising to my cheeks.

“She’s not a boy,” I mumble, cringing at how defensive I sound. “She’s my roommate.”

Mum arches a skeptical brow. “Then why is she dressed like one?” she asks, kicking off her worn-out sandals with a sharp thud.

I bite back a groan. Jesus freaking Christ.

“Mum, could you maybe, I don’t know, be nice to my guest?”

“Oh, now you’re giving me orders in my own house?” she snaps, sinking into the couch with a flourish.

“I said could,” I mutter under my breath, the words feeling pathetic even to me.

MJ steps forward, unfazed by the tension thickening the air. “Hi, I’m MJ,” she says, her voice calm, offering a hand for a handshake.

My mother narrows her eyes at the gesture, then reluctantly takes MJ’s hand, shaking it with all the warmth of a glacier. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her words sharp enough to cut.

MJ, ever composed, replies smoothly. “I came to take Sonia back to school.”

The sheer audacity of her words makes me scoff. Take me where, now?

“Back to school?” Mum repeats, her tone dripping with suspicion.

“Yes,” MJ says, the hint of a smirk curling her lips.

I bury my face in my hands. I am definitely dating a psycho.

“I thought you came to stay,” Mum says, her disapproval hanging heavily between us.

I glance nervously between MJ and my mother, realizing too late that I’m still standing awkwardly. I move to sit beside Mum, nibbling on my lower lip. “Uh... I just came to talk to you about the exam fees,” I say, my eyes flicking to MJ as if seeking backup.

“And I’ve already told you,” Mum snaps, “I don’t have any money.”

“No big deal,” MJ interjects nonchalantly. “I’ll pay for her.”

Mum’s head jerks up, her gasp so loud it could’ve startled the neighbors. “As who?” she demands.

MJ leans casually against the wall, her confidence infuriatingly intact. “A good Samaritan with money to spare.”

Murder me now.

“This is why you’ve gotten such an attitude,” Mum accuses, her finger stabbing the air in MJ’s direction.

“I don’t have an attitude,” I reply, my tone cool but firm.

“What do you call that?”

I let out a long sigh, slouching back into the couch. This is going nowhere.

Mum clicks her tongue in frustration, shaking her head as she stomps off to the kitchen.

MJ leans toward me, her hand brushing my shoulder. “We should leave.”

“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of guilt.

“Yes, you can.” Her words are firm, her gaze steady.