Page 22 of Prince Charmless
He sets the plate back in front of me. “So a nice dinner is your Achilles’ heel. That took me a pathetic amount of time to figure out.”
“Don’t patronize me.” I fist my fork and stab the chicken. “That’s not how you treat someone during a negotiation.”
Taylor moves his lips in a way that shows his teeth. Wait. That’s a smile. He’s smiling at me.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“You said it.”
“Said what?”
“Negotiation. You’re negotiating with me.”
I flashback to two seconds ago. I did, didn’t I? What the hell did he put in that chicken? And is this pathetic little show pulling on my heartstrings? A part of me wants to give him a chance. For the sake of spontaneity or whatever.
“Do I have my foot in the door?”
“You invited yourself in,” I say. “All of your body parts are through the door.”
“Sucking up doesn’t come naturally to me, Melina, forgive me if I make a few mistakes.”
I think what he means issorry for letting myself into your home, Melina, won’t happen again.
“Okay, besides the whole breaking and entering part, this dinner was very nice. You might be less of an ass than I thought you were, and I can tell that you’re trying, so maybe there’s a microscopic chance of me coming back on the project. But if this is a negotiation, you’re coming in from the way bottom.”
“I don’t have a lot of experience with coming from the bottom,” he dares to quip at me. He’s like a nauseating child who can’t help himself.
“You know what, I can finish the dishes.” I push my plate away. “You should leave before this conversation becomes less than cordial like it usually does.”
Taylor sighs. “Good idea.” There might be a hint of reluctance in his voice, but that can’t be true. Taylor doesn’t want to be here. I’m just his means to an end.
He leaves the kitchen but turns around right after passing me. “Oh, Melina?”
“What?”
I stop breathing when he puts his hand under my chin. My eyes meet his when he tilts my head up slightly. They’re dark brown, just like mine. I probably look caught off guard, but he looks bored. Like putting hands under women’s chins is a normal activity that normal people do every day.
Taylor uses his thumb to wipe the bottom corner of my lip. “There’s cake in the fridge.”
I let out a tiny involuntary hum. How long has there been something on my face? And why didn’t he just tell me?
He takes his hand away and grabs his jacket off the chair next to mine, brushing up against me in a way that doesn’t seem intentional.
My chef leaves me stew in my feelings, familiar feelings that remind me of our dance. Feelings that are floaty and feel like stupid butterflies in my stupid stomach. I wish they would all unmetamorphizise back into caterpillars. I’m not even going to look at his cake because Taylor’s food is doing bizarre things to me that I can’t explain.
8
Taylor
Melina:this cake is the best cake to have ever caked
Melina:buttercream frosting is def the superior of the frostings
I’ve found Melina’s weakness. I usually just use money to bend someone to my will, but she’s stubbornly immune to that type of persuasion. Who knew my cooking would be the thing to incapacitate her? Although it’s not my cooking. It’s mom’s.
Melina:whats in here
Melina:lemon?
