Page 100 of Severance

My mother steps out of the kitchen and my father rises to his feet. In order to avoid a lengthy interrogation, I didn’t promise them anything elaborate like an official dinner with Dakota, but the fact that my parents will only have two minutes to form their opinions about him makes me nervous.

When I swing the door open, Dakota stands tall and solid on our porch in his black coat, his silhouette drawn sharp against the white curtain of fine snow swirling in the air. He’s wearing a beanie and his hair hangs messily over his cheeks.

“Hello.” My father steps closer, eyeing up and down Dakota’s body.

“Hi, Dakota.” My mother follows my dad’s lead and walks over to get a better look at my boyfriend.

“Hi.” Dakota shows a dimpled smile to my parents. “Nice to meet you.” He steps through the doorway and extends his hand, which my father shakes energetically.

I take advantage of the awkward pause that’s so atypical for my parents and carry both of my bags out to the porch. Dakota follows me and grabs the bigger one, hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Alana says you’re in a band?” My mother strikes up a conversation.

“Yes.” Dakota tips his chin. “My brother and I have been playing together since middle school.”

“What kind of music do you play?”

“It’s a blend of melodic and gothic rock.”

“Do you tour?” My father takes over.

“Locally. Yes.”

“I see.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “My daughter says you work at Cascade Locks.”

“Yes sir. I do. Music doesn’t pay my bills. Yet. Gotta make sure there’s always some leverage while you’re pursuing your dreams.”

“Right. Good thinking. Always have a backup plan.”

When my parents are done with the questions, we say our goodbyes and load into Dakota’s car.

My heart’s still on edge, so I take a second to catch my breath and process everything while Dakota starts the engine.

“I think it went well.” Dakota’s words interrupt my thoughts, and he glances at me.

“I think so too,” I agree, my gaze holding his. The cold air colors his cheeks, and the snowflakes on top of his beanie and across his shoulders are starting to melt away. He looks tempting and I can’t help myself. I lean over and press my lips to his. It’s a glimpse of a kiss, quick and innocent, not meant for my parents. Although they probably can’t see anything through the snow, anyway.

“Are you ready for my baking lesson?” I ask, sitting back up in my seat.

“Hell yeah.” He nods, and a grin spreads across his face.

* * *

We sit in Dakota’s kitchen, tired and sweaty. My printouts from Pinterest are covering all the surfaces that aren’t occupied by pans and trays with my creations. There are tons of dirty dishes to be cleaned, but after four hours of teaching my boyfriend how to make perfect cupcakes, I’m feeling exhausted. I blame my dying spirit mostly on my lack of sleep and two super busy shifts at Toro Bravo this weekend. Being in training sucks.

Dakota’s playing around with my camera and he looks adorable in his black HIM t-shirt with white patches of flour in his hair and on his face.

“I think this one’s the money shot,” he says, handing me my Nikon.

I look at the preview of the image with a trained eye and give him my verdict. “This isn’t the best angle.”

“Why not? Look at all that frosting.” He rises from his chair and stretches his body over the table to see it from my point of view.

“Yes, but it’s not just about the frosting. You want to make sure you get the entire structure since it’s a three-tier cupcake stand,” I explain. “People need to be able to see all of it in the photo.”

“Okay, cupcake master. Whatever you say.” A smirk touches the corner of his mouth.

“It’s basic marketing.”

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