Page 41 of Cakes for the Grump
Before I can move away, his hand finds my arm. “Hey, I like your energy,” admits Theo. “This actually helped, so thank you. I’m slightly less heartbroken and miserable.”
“It was nice for me, too. Really. As for the drinks?—”
Theo waves my concern away. “Luke’s footing the bill. Stubborn bastard won’t ever let me pay.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling relieved.
“I’ll send you my work later this week to read.”
“Please do!”
We part like people who’ve just met, so politeness feels necessary, but that’s not all. There’s real warmth and I can’t pinpoint why, but I have a feeling we could be great friends if around each other enough times.
An anemic disco ball spins above my head on my way out, smattering enough light around to make me feel as if I’m on stage. Everything is glowing but blended like an oil painting. A few Manhattans are not a lot in quantity, but the alcohol content in them is heavy-handed and hits me all atonce. Good thing the brisk breeze outside is a nice slap against my overly warm cheeks.
Stopping somewhere to the side, I bring out my phone. Now for the business of getting myself home. Anything other than walking will cost me, so walking it is.
“What are you doing?”
My head jerks up.
It’s Luke. Not caring about an iota of privacy, he reads the phone screen over my shoulder. “Those arewalkingdirections.”
“I’m aware.”
“Why?”
“Not that I owe you an answer, but I’ve drunk a bit too much alcohol, so I’m doing the responsible thing and taking myself home. Fresh air will help my head settle.” As if to add emphasis, I start down the street to begin my journey.
“Alone,” says Luke, striding along with me, obviously not understanding. “At night?”
My chest swells with indignation. I am not a child in need of scolding over my decisions…
“This city is rated one of the safest in the country, and I’m taking the main roads. So yes,alone. Or that was the plan before you rudely crashed.”
He slips his hands into his pockets. “I’m going in the same direction.”
What? Why?Why isn’t he back inside with his beautiful woman?
“How could you possibly know we are going in the same direction? You’ve got no idea where I live.”
He shrugs as if that is answer enough.
Exasperated, I silently push forward in the direction of my bed. Low streetlights guide the way, and if that wasn’t enough light, some of the buildings around us have people still awake in their units. If I squint, I can make out silhouettes of people going on about their nights. Cooking, watching television, dancing. There are stretches where it’s only the two of us, and then other stretches where lubricated, giggling bodies merge in and out of their path.
I’m still annoyed. We walk for a while. No one speaks.
Then he does.
“Are you going to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Call that number. The stranger, the man at the bar wants you to date.”
We approach a stairway with some uneven steps. He offers his hand, but I ignore it and hop down on my own, accepting the sting in my ankles when my shoes land on concrete. “He’s not a complete stranger. I got details.”
“Like what?”
