Page 36 of Cakes for the Grump
“Pout at him,” Theo directs me. “It’ll work. Trust me.”
“I can hear you,” says Luke.
Regardless, I stick my bottom lip out. Theo has already made doe eyes, so I attempt the same.
Luke covers his face with his hand and you might think it’s to block us out, but I’ve got his strange intuition that he is hiding his amusement.
“Have drinks tonight with us?” Theo asks me. “You in?”
“I didn’t say yes. I’ve got meetings that can’t wait,” argues Luke.
Theo moves over to saddle up next to me. “Ignore him. I’ll pester him all day until he agrees. You in?”
To avoid answering right away, I busy myself by gathering the teacups and going over to the sink to put them down. Water is turned on so they can soak. At the same time, I’m thinking about my budget—of which there is barely any wiggle room.
“I don’t know,” I answer.
Coming over, Theo leans his back against the counter. “Please. I’m a sad plague.”
Not able to help myself, I laugh even though I don’t really know what that means.
“Don’t you want a night of adventure?” he asks me, slyly.
I do.It’s been so long.
“Please,” he begs again.
For some reason, he reminds me of Noor and Kiren, and suddenly I miss them dearly. It’s been so long since I’ve had an outing with my best friends. Do I dare try hanging out with Luke and one of his college buddies after hours? Surely, this crosses professional boundaries I should not go near. It’s not wise.
Theo’s pout goes into overtime. He touches my arm. Why are his big brown eyes so persuasive? I find my resolve weakening.
“Alright,” I concede. “It should be fine…” By walking over, eating at home, and not drinking any alcohol, I can have a zero-cost night. It’s doable.
“Yay! You won’t regret it.”
Luke argues in the background that he has no time.
Theo tells me to ignore his dramatics.
TWELVE
Not havingto lie to my friends and Uncle about actually having a life outside of work, and leaving my apartment for social purposes will be a pleasant change of pace for me.
Despite the fact that my boss will be there.
And chaotic Theodore Walker.
How the two of them remain friends, I do not know.
Maybe tonight will uncover that confounding mystery.
Looking at the clock and seeing how late it’s already gotten, I hurry. Thankfully, my friends forced me to pack fancier clothes before I left for Barcelona, chucking as many impractical items into the corners of my luggage as they could fit. None have gotten any use before tonight, since my usual work attire consists of pants, tank top, and an oversized apron, and because I prefer to lounge in cozy formless clothes at home.
So this—I lift up a fitted, siren-pink summer dress—isn’t something I’ve worn in a long time. It’s snug around the boobs, cinches the waist, and flows over my legs, parting on the side where a slit climbs halfway up my thigh.
After putting it on, I apply make-up magic on my face.
Before leaving the apartment, I check myself out in the mirror. Years of learning my body shape and experimenting have taught me how to dress my curves. I don’t pep talk myself in the mirror saying bigger is beautifulbecause women of all sizes are beautiful. We all have our own vessels that carry our soul and get us around the world.
