Page 74 of Last First Kiss
“We need your guys’ help,” Diana explains, almost defeated.
“Our cake person quit on us at the last minute,” she says, deadpan. “I guess she didn’t realize Alex stood for Alexandria in the order form, and when she did, she swiftly returned our cake deposit and invited us to her church on Sunday.”
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts.
How is thisstilla fucking thing?
But then again, we live in a small town, and around here, finding homophobes is somehow easier than locating a decent espresso.
Alejandra stiffens beside me, jaw clenched.
Diana’s trying to sound calm, but the strain in her voice gives her away. “We need to choose today, or the cake won’t make it in time for the wedding since we’re having someone make it out of state.”
Alejandra wraps her arms around Diana in a tight hug.Diana melts into it, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder. Alejandra leans in and whispers something, too soft for me to catch. All I hear is the tail end—and it sounds a lot like “fuck her.”
When they pull apart, we make our way toward the cake station, which honestly looks like Alejandra’s wet dream. While I’ve never been much of a sweets person, Alejandra can’t get enough. After every meal—without fail—she insists on having a “sweet treat.”
Diana and Alex cut us each a piece of what I’m assuming is red velvet—no, thank you; cream cheese has no business being on cake—one that appears to be dark chocolate—likely will be my favorite—one that screams carrot cake with those telltale orange flecks, and the last one ... I havenoidea. But it’s purple, so I’m thinking it’s grape-flavored.
“Can we share?” I ask Alejandra, who turns to me and smiles.
“Only if I can pick how big your bite is.”
“Fair.” I know her well enough to bet she’ll give me the tiniest sliver imaginable, and that’s all I need. Alejandra’s wonderful in so many ways, but when it comes to sharing food—desserts in particular—she’s the worst.
Alejandra pokes her fork through the red velvet, puts it in her mouth, and moans. My eyes widen, and I swear the sound reverberates through me. Her eyes land back on me with a smirk as she slowly pulls the fork from between her soft, plush lips, then shoots me a playful wink that makes my stomach flip.
She carefully slices off a piece and holds it out to me. I hate being fed, and she knows it, but my brain is entirely elsewhere right now, and I’m honestly too distracted by her to care.
I take half a bite of what she’s trying to feed me, and assuspected, it’s disgusting. I scrunch up my face and shake my head.
Alejandra wrinkles her nose before finishing the rest of my bite.
“You liking red velvet cake is my least favorite thing about you,” I say.
“Well, guess I’ll have to work extra hard to make up for it in other ways.” She winks, and my mouth drops open.
My cheeks heat. Alejandra looks utterly pleased with herself, a sly smile lighting up her face.
The chocolate one is next. It’s good, but too chocolaty. The frosting gets stuck all over our teeth, and it’s so thick it’s hard to get off.
“It’s not great for pictures, if you ask me,” Alejandra says to Diana, who agrees.
The third one is a carrot cake that’s not as gross as I was expecting, and so far, it’s everyone’s favorite.
The fourth is a flavor I’ve never had before. Ube. I don’t really know what it is. I think Diana said it was some kind of yam, but whatever it is, it’s delicious and it’s everyone’s new favorite.
“Ube wins,” Diana says, as Alex massages her shoulders.
“Thank you guys, you have no idea how stressed out we’ve been about this,” Alex adds, the relief in both their faces clear.
“I will gladly sample cake for you every day if necessary.” Alejandra tosses the last bit of cake into her mouth. She closes her eyes and hums. “Those weredelicious,” she says through a smile, doing a little dance.
The rest of our night is pretty uneventful. After the cake tasting, we help Diana and Alexfinish making the posies for their bridesmaids, and they bring out their wedding blend for Alejandra and me to try.
Alex has recently taken up making wine and has been perfecting their wedding blend, which, I must admit, is absolutely delicious.
But then again, I buy seven-dollar wines and love them, so I don’t know if I’m the best judge. If it’s not painfully acidic or labeledcooking wine, I usually call it a win.
