Page 67 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice behind it. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to my room.”
“Fuck yes,” I amend, pulling him in for one last bruising kiss. “And bring the cake.”
Julian’s room isn’t all that more private than the kitchen had been. We can hear the rumblings of a baseball game coming from Henry’s room and the bass of a pop song from Stella’s.The bedrooms are all big enough to do backflips in, but no one thought to soundproof the walls. Where’s the logic in that? But the door locks, and the air is thick with the scent of cinnamon and Earl Grey tea and something distinctly Julian, and that’s all I can ask for.
Julian sets the cake on the edge of his desk, pushing aside a stack of books and laminated recipe cards. “We…uh…we don’t have to do anything just because we’re in here, but I figured it might be a little quieter.” He’s as red as the cherries. “We could eat cake, if you want.”
Of course I want cake—if I didn’t, I’d be concerned—but there’s something I want more.
I close the distance between us, cradling that immaculate jaw before leaning in for a kiss as sweet as the smell of the room. My body speaks its own language—shy smiles, trembling hands, and longing glances that say what I can’t. But Julian meets every push with a pull and every tug with a touch like this language was made for him too.
When I lean back, it’s not because I want to stop—I’d gladly give up breathing if it meant kissing Julian longer—but because I really do want to try the cake.
I make myself at home on the edge of his bed, holding my greedy little hands out. “Cake, please.”
Julian’s too kiss-stunned to respond, blinking rapidly and shaking himself off before grinning. “As you wish.”
He cuts two pieces, handing the bigger one to me. A man after my own heart. I can hear him suck in a breath while he watches me take my first bite. Having an audience while you eat hasn’t gotten any less intimidating, but my confidence in Julian’s abilities makes it easier.
It’s amazing, obviously. Better than amazing. And while I may be evolving and all that, I still can’t turn down an opportunity to tease Julian, so I scrunch up my nose and shake my head.
“Oh God, it’s terrible. I’m sorry, I knew I added too much condensed milk. I can—”
“Julian.” He stops apologizing, but I wait until his eyes meet mine.
I’ve had hundreds of tres leches cakes in my life, and even if Julian’s still has the classic flavors that taste like childhood nostalgia, there’s something special about knowing that this one is just for me. It makes the whipped cream lighter, the coconut smoother, the cherries sweeter, knowing that this only exists because Julian wanted to see me happy.
The familiar taste still brings back memories of Nochebuenas at Titi Rosa’s, barbecues with my cousins, and the sound of Mami’s laugh, but there’s something new now too. Lying on the edge of the hidden pier, secrets whispered against cool night air, the glow of Julian’s eyes as he watched the fireworks.
“Titi Rosa is going to be so pissed, becausethisis the best tres leches cake I’ve ever had.”
Watching Julian’s smile blossom puts every sunrise to shame.
“You’re just saying that,” he replies bashfully, staring at his own untouched plate.
I shake my head, taking our plates and setting them down on the nightstand. Kissing is great and all, but I’m not about to ruin a perfectly good cake because of it. “I don’t just say anything,” I whisper, then kiss him until he believes me.
“You’ve made a very compelling point,” he chokes out when we come apart for air.
I know I have, but I can still drive this point all the way home. I lean across him to grab my plate, holding up a spoonful to his kiss-swollen lips. “See for yourself.”
He doesn’t seem to like being fed, wrinkling his nose in protest, but I don’t give in. This is what he gets for how many times he’s fed me. “Not bad,” he says before he’s done chewing.
I poke him with the spoon. “It’s better than not bad and you know it.”
He shrugs but accepts the second bite I offer him. “Should’ve used less condensed milk.”
“Shut up and accept the compliment.”
He drags the spoon out of his mouth with a pop that shouldn’t be allowed to sound so sinful. “Make me.”
Finally, a challenge that I willgladlyaccept.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I never thought I’d say this, and I hope I never have to say it again, but…thank God for the Seo-Cookes.
Well, mostly Julian. Actually, just Julian. Thank God for Julian.
