Page 39 of Icing Hearts

I’m returned to my back and feel something wet against my face. Then something warm. A few drops land. One on each cheek and one on my forehead. Tory’s fingers smooth whatever it is along my skin in and upward motion. Then it’s something ice cold and divine.

“Is that a jade roller?”

“Mhm. Would you prefer gua sha?”

“Not tonight. How are you doing all this? Aren’t you drunk, too?”

“No, Clara. I stopped drinking when you started. Should I help you to the bathroom to brush your teeth? I have an extra.”

“Please.”

I stumble past Tory and brace myself against the bathroom vanity. It’s then that I see the tiny fridge where he keeps his skin products. Of course he does.

“Do you need help getting changed? I have clothes you can wear,” he says from just outside the bathroom door.

“No, just bring them here.”

Tory leaves the door ajar while I change. I look at his cinnamon soap, cinnamon hand lotion, cinnamon diffuser.

“Hey,” I call from the bathroom. He’s at the door in a heartbeat, arm outstretched to lead me back to bed.

“You want that tincture?” he asks. “I still have it.”

I nod, feeling my consciousness slip through my fingertips like smoke. Tory’s bed is perfection. Not because I’m drunk. Because it’s a great bed. Perfectly luxurious in every way, including the sheets. I wonder if this is what Egyptian cotton feels like.

“What’s with the cinnamon?” I try and fail to keep my words from slurring. “Cinnamon everything. Everywhere. Why? Spill one of your big secrets, pretty boy. You’re so pretty, so pretty, Tory. It’s so annoying.”

And he fluffs his hair and smiles his pretty boy smile. I groan.

He huffs a laugh. “It’s not a big secret. Cinnamon reminds me of my Nonna. She died two years ago. She made this crazy good tiramisu. But I didn’t like the espresso or unsweetened cocoa powder when I was a kid so she’d make a special version for me with hot chocolate mix and cinnamon. I ended up loving her traditional tiramisu, but she always made the special kind for me. She made cinnamon biscotti for me and my sister all the time. She’d”—he cuts off to laugh then continues—“She’d stuff them in our pockets before mass, and we’d sneak chunks when my parents weren’t looking. My mom always wondered why we had crumbs in our church clothes.”

“That’s—that’s actually really sweet. I think I’m gonna cry.” Tears threaten to break free, but I choke them back. I take Tory’s hand and kiss the back of it before curling up with it under my cheek and falling asleep.

The next morning, I find him sleeping on the floor, up against his bedroom door. He stirs when I nudge him with my toe.

“Morning, handsome.”

“Charity,” he groans and climbs to his feet, still graceful even though he stumbles about. Seemingly on instinct, he reaches out and wraps his broad arms around my neck, pulling me in for a hug. “Good morning,” he mutters and plants a kiss on the top of my head.

That’s new.

Tory zombie-walks to his bed and pulls off the comforter I just neatly tucked in, an attempt at politeness.

“Hey, can I hold on to this?” I ask him. One eye cracks open, and I gesture to the hockey sweatshirt he gave me last night. Paired with my jeans from yesterday, I don’t look like a totally hungover slob, despite feeling that way.

“You’re leaving?” His eyes spring open, seeing me for the first time and realizing I’m pulled together enough to face the public. My bag is over my shoulder, neatly stuffed with my shacket, phones, and glasses. I left the toothbrush and contact case. It felt weird taking them.

“Uh, yeah…what else would I do?”

His mouth hangs open a moment and a ghost of confusion crosses his face. “I just thought—” he shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind. Yes. Keep it forever for all I care. If Vince and the guys already left for the diner, come back up. I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

He waves me off. I creep downstairs to find Vince and his friends getting ready to leave. Vince pulls me into a bear hug, and they razz me for being hungover. I don’t bother asking if he was going to come looking for me before he left.

We go to a diner downtown, just like Tory said, and I eat a load of greasy food before Vince drops me off at home with promises of future dates.

It’s all fun and fine and good. I laugh my real laugh and genuinely enjoy myself.

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