Page 49 of Stealing His Cupcake
I chuckle at their easy shenanigans, hoping that one day soon, Amy will be this relaxed around me, too. Kayla will be disappointed, though. If Amy is going to bunk with anyone in a nursing home, it will be with me.
The TV starts playing the show’s intro and I try not to look but, in a sudden spike of masochism, my eyes are drawn to the screen. Beautiful women in revealing dresses kiss and fight with equally beautiful men in expensive suits in a “previously on” montage and I can’t look away because it’sbad. So damn bad. Mexican soap operas from the ‘90s bad. Like that one about that blind girl in a green dress my grandmother used to watch all the time.
“How dare you, Eric?!” an actress screeches at a dark-haired man in the worst display of acting I’ve ever seen, then pretends to slap him. “You don’t just get to kiss me!”
“How dare you, Eric?” Amy repeats mockingly. “God, this actress is so bad.”
Relief floods me as I realize that both Amy and Kayla are laughing at the bad acting, not admiring it. I never would have said anything to Amy, but I’m not sure I’d survive it if she took this crap seriously. Instead, the girls seem to take the show almost as a parody. While still keeping up with the plot that’s, frankly, so convoluted I have trouble following it.
I do my best to focus on my crocheting, but the show, coupled with the girls’ animated commentary, proves too distracting.
“Bah!” Kayla exclaims when the dark-haired hero casts a smoldering look at a cute, freckled woman who’s apparently the main female character of the show. “You’re engaged, douchebag!”
“It’s an arranged union,” Amy argues. “Eric doesn’t love Cordelia, and she doesn’t love him.”
If Cordelia is the gorgeous blonde from the earlier scene who was examining Eric’s tonsils with her tongue, then I beg to differ. She looked very much into him.
Noticing I’m watching the show with rapt attention now, Amy grins at me. “She just wants his money,” she says, presumably for my benefit because Kayla murmurs agreement. “Maggie isn’t interested in money. She just wants to live happily ever after with Henry.”
Ugh. I glance at the screen with confusion that only makes Amy grin harder. “Henry is—” she starts, but Kayla interrupts her impatiently.
“Yeah, yeah. Mr. NiceAndRich and all kinds of perfect. Pfft. I know you’re super into him, Ames, but I still think Maggie would be better off with Eric.”
Super into him? Now I’m glaring and Amy is covering her mouth to stop herself from giggling. “Actually,” she casts me a mischievous look, “I might be on Eric’s side as well.”
Kayla gasps dramatically. “No fucking way! Don’t tell me you’re suddenly rooting for Mr. DarkAndMysterious?”
I cock a brow at her, curious about the answer. Fidgeting in her seat, Amy murmurs, “Well, sometimes a bit of darkness is a good thing, isn’t it?”
Oh, definitely. Unlike the terrible actor’s attempt at being seductive, my smoldering look is very real. Amy can clearly read the things I want to do to her in my eyes because hers widen and she squeezes her thighs together. “Later,” I mouth silently and, dragging her poor, abused lower lip between her teeth, Amy nods.
“That’s what I’ve been saying for, like, forever!” Kayla interrupts our silent exchange. “Glad to see I’m being a good influence.”
Giggling, Amy throws a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “You mean a bad influence. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be rooting for Henry.”
“Bah. Henry is boring. A man should have a dark streak to spice things up. The good kind of dark streak, though, not the cheating asshole kind. I haven’t— Oh, no! Is that Maggie’s grandfather?! I thought he was dead!”
And just like that, Amy’s attention is back on the screen. I don’t mind, though, because I already discovered something important about my little cupcake. She has been rooting for the boring, polite, “good guy” kind of hero, right until the moment I came along. Now, she’s all for embracing the inner darkness. The sexy kind of darkness, at least. That has to mean something, right?
An older man invades the scene and starts yelling at poor Maggie about inheritance and mansions and…apples? Brows drawn together, I look at Amy for explanation but she just shrugs helplessly, pointing at the phone. Right. It would be suspicious if she started explaining everything out loud to me.
With a long-drawn sigh, I set the crocheting aside because I clearly won’t be able to focus on it, and reach for my phone instead. If I have to watch this show, I may as well find out what it’s about. And what’s with the apples, because the old man seems beyond pissed about them. While I’m at it, I open a new message window. I might not be able to talk to Amy out loud while she’s on the phone with Kayla, but that doesn’t mean I can’t communicate with her.
Me
This show is terrible *facepalm emoji* *laughing face emoji*
Smiling nervously, Amy wipes her greasy fingers into a napkin before typing.
Cupcake
I’m sorry. You don’t have to watch it. I promise I won’t say anything to Kayla even if you’re not here.
Me
Are you kidding? I love it! It’s so bad it’s hilarious. I just need to google the apple thing.
The tightness around Amy’s eyes disappears as she relaxes.
