Page 138 of You Float My Boat

‘Fair enough,’ he muttered, this time stuffing one of the rejected cupcakes into his mouth, whole. ‘I’d end up seriously fat if you fed me like this every day, anyway. You and Violet can be drama queens together.’

I didn’t point out that I hadn’t actually fed him at all, or that I wasn’t a drama queen, and instead picked up the tea Oz had pushed in front of me and slurped in a boiling mouthful.

‘So, what’s the plan then? And what have we got here?’ He peered over the rejects tray which Brooks seemed to be hugging. His hand was slapped away as he reached for a double chocolate chip. ‘Oi. You were just complaining about getting fat.’

Brooks lifted his shirt and gave his stomach a hard pat. ‘No chance. This six pack’s not going anywhere.’

‘Give. Me. A. Cupcake.’

Brooks scanned the tray, his eyes slowly moving back and forth before he reached for the smallest one and placed it Oz’s open palm.

‘I hope you get fat,’ Oz grouched, before shoving the entire thing in his mouth.

‘Here.’ The pile of peanut butter cookies was pushed over to him. ‘You can have these ones.’

Oz’s frown deepened but he stayed silent as he picked one up. At least this time it wasn’t spat out.

‘So, what’s your plan?’ asked Brooks. ‘Apart from giving my sister enough cavities to keep every dentist in business forever.’

‘My plan?’

‘Yeah. You have a plan to get her back, right? To prove your love, or whatever?’

‘I mean … yeah. I’m working on it. Kind of.’

‘Well …’ Brooks pinned me with a stare, his eyes wide with expectation. ‘What is it?’

I was about to answer when Oz bent down and picked up something he’d spotted on the floor by his stool.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, holding a piece of paper in the air.

Shit.

‘Give me that.’ I reached over, only I was too slow and Brooks snatched it before I could.

‘What is it?’

I sighed. I mean, I was already fairly close to rock bottom, and if the current scene was anything to go by, there was no reason why I couldn’t make it a little further down.

While I’d definitely gone overboard with the sugar, it had provided me with a little thinking space … not enough, but some. Somewhere between the double chocolate chip and the peanut butter flavours a couple of ideas had popped into my head. Though I’m not sure they were any more solid or thought out than the ‘Proving my Love’ cupcakes.

Last night, in lieu of sleep, I’d spent four hours recording every character Violet’s character had dialogue with inTwelfth Night. I’d made an MP3 which Iplanned to send her, so she could still rehearse without me. On a more selfish note, I hoped she’d hear my voice and miss me so much it felt like she was also having a heart attack.

I didn’t feel I should be the only one.

The second thing was the piece of paper my two housemates were currently reading with ill-concealed amusement.

‘I’m writing Violet a poem,’ I said, with all the confidence I could summon. It wasn’t much, I tell you.

‘Twenty-one chocolate Valentine’s cupcakes. I knew my heart would never be the same,’ Brooks read aloud, though I wished he wasn’t frowning so deeply. ‘Hmm. I think you need to work on this, it doesn’t rhyme.’

‘It’s not supposed to. It’s a sonnet.’

‘A what?’

‘A sonnet.’

His eyes flicked back to mine, bulging wide as his finger snapped loudly, ‘Hang on a minute, Valentine’s cupcakes … Those cupcakes you made with the purple frosting weeks ago, were they for Violet too?’

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