by Rica Grayson
“You gave him whipped cream.”
“Yep,” I told Eva as I attempted to make myself dinner again. I gave up on curry for now. I decided to make a sandwich this time, and whipped up a salad. It was really hard to mess that up, and they almost always tasted great. I could even be experimental and mix up the oddest things, and it would still turn out a success.
“Then he left you waffles on your doorstep.”
“Yep.”
“And you asked for a hammer.”
“Well, when you put it that way—”
Eva only laughed at me.
“Does he still let his phone ring over and over?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard it ring in a while. Oh, I have a name now too.”
“Well, don’t make me wait.”
I made a dramatic pause. “He’s Abe’s son. Luke Diaz.”
I heard her gasp. “No way.”
“Yep. I couldn’t believe it either.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, “Sierra,” she said mildly, “that will stop you from wanting to get to know him better, won’t it?”
“I don’t want to get to know him better.”
“It’s a dance. And now you’re afraid he’ll hurt you.”
“He’ll never hurt me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And it’s not a dance. I’m pretty sure he can’t stand me either.”
“If you say so.”
But I heard it in her voice. She didn’t believe me.
The calls started again.
I was drawing a sketch in my notebook when the sound jarred me out of focus and the tip of my pencil broke off. “Shit.”
It was starting to give me a headache too. Why he didn’t just unplug the damn thing, I could never understand. He could even not-so-politely tell the caller to piss off. I’d have a lot of fun hearing that conversation.
I was nearly done doing some tweaks on a poster. I didn’t want to knock on his door again. I wanted minimal contact, if I could help it.
Deciding to just take a break and go to the gym, I left not long after, desperate to be away from him and the noise. And as I did so, nearly crashed into something large and solid.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time.
Of course. Of course, we had to bump into each other and go out at the same time.
He looked at me curiously. “What’s your hurry?”
I grimaced when I heard that sound again. “I just have to get away. You might think of unplugging your phone.”
“Fuck,” he muttered as it struck him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it would reach your side. Honestly, thought she’d just stop.” He sounded frustrated.
Don’t ask it. Don’t ask it.
“Trouble in paradise?” I asked bluntly.
Oh my God. Me and my mouth.
“No. It’s my mom.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Why did I feel relief that it wasn’t some crazy psycho girlfriend? Still, it was weird that she called so much.
As if reading my mind, he explained, “She’s been trying to convince me to come back. I already told her I won’t do it, but she’s been relentless.” He didn’t say anything more.
It annoyed me how the tidbits of information I gathered about him only served to pique my curiosity.
“Oh. Maybe if you tell her properly, she’ll give up her hopes. Or, you could unplug the contraption. You could even use your hammer and maybe smash it.” The ringing began again, and I thought we’d been standing here for a while. “Well, see ya.”
I ran down stairs. He caught up to me easily.
“I’m buying a few things in the grocery. Going to the gym?”
“Yeah,” I replied, a little cautious.
“Let me drive you.”
That would mean we would be alone. In a small space. Nope, not doing it.
“I can walk. It’s, um, part of my workout warm-up.”
What the hell was I saying?
“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
Before he could say anything more, I did my version of a wave, which meant it just looked awkward and clumsy. I only slowed as I neared the gym. Somehow, I had a feeling that the distance wouldn’t really help.
Eva was coming over tonight. I just came home from my workout, and went straight to the shower.
We planned to have a small dinner and maybe have something to watch. Just a little catch-up and a chance to unwind tonight.
I heard a knock on my door.
I’d just gotten out. I rubbed the fog off the mirror, wrapped a towel around my hair, and slipped on my robe.
I opened the door, and my jaw dropped. What was he doing here?
“Luke,” I said cautiously.
He stood there, half leaning towards the wall, bathed in the glow of the light.
His eyes swept downwards over my body, then slowly back up. “Hey.”
I felt exposed. Even though I was covered, I tugged my robe closer together.
He looked distracted for a bit, and then his eyes cleared. “Sorry to disturb you—” he didn’t sound sorry at all “—but do you have a spare coffee mug I can borrow?”
“Coffee mug? What happened to yours?”
“I broke it.” He let out a sigh. “And possibly a screwdriver.”
Eva chose to walk upstairs at that exact moment. A puzzled look crossed her expression.
“You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?” I blurted out. He was doing this because of the hammer. I winced, hearing what I just said.
A laugh escaped him. He attempted to cover it, but it only made my blood boil.
“Screw you? Sweetheart, maybe if you knocked the walls down at least halfway, I’d get the chance.”
“I’m sorry, you must be delusional. News flash, lover boy. I’m not a wall to conquer, climb, or jump over,” I snapped testily.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he replied, equally fierce.
Suddenly my hand was being pulled back until I was inside again. Eva faced Luke.
“Sorry, I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Eva.” She shook his hand like I wasn’t there, and we weren’t about to chew each other’s head off. “Like everyone else, she needs her daily dose of coffee or she’ll be a little hotheaded in the mornings. But she loves designing things, and if you so much as make a noise when she’s in the zone, she will not speak to you, and she’s so good at it, it’s annoying. In the evenings you need to sweet-talk her and soften her with something sweet, preferably cookies or ice-cream, or cookies and cream. But what she really likes—”
“Evie—”
“What she really values the most, is loyalty and honesty, and the security in knowing she’s always got your back.”
What the hell was going on? In my mind I could picture myself putting my hand over her mouth and dragging her in. Eva was small, but she could kick hard. Maybe I was totally losing it, because it just felt like she was handing me over to someone that was a virtual stranger to her.
She cut me off. “And I haven’t gotten to spend enough time with my best friend, so… Bye. Girl time and all that.”
Then she shut the door. On his face. With a smile.
I heaved a sigh. Only Eva.
Eva followed me back inside. She gave me a look, demanding me to answer.
“He wanted to borrow a mug and a screwdriver,” I explained.
“He likes you.”
“He likes pissing me off.”
“And you like him.”
My brain was going to explode. “No, I don’t. He comes over a lot and then he—he just enjoys pissing me off.”
“I know what I saw.”
“He said in not so many words that he wouldn't date me because my cooking sucked,” I blurted out. Why did I say that?
She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God. He did?” She sounded outraged on my behalf. It felt good. “He’s a liar.”
I rolled my eyes and patted my hair dry. “Rig
ht. Like he’d lie about that.”
“That’s not the look of a man who doesn’t want to date you. God. Something’s wrong with both of you.” She shook her head, and rested her forehead on a palm.
“He’s my mortal enemy,” I told her. Deciding to change the topic, I continued, “Anyway, we’re not here to talk about me. How was work?”
“Crazy busy,” she began. She held up the familiar plastic bag with dishes from her dad’s restaurant.
We ate, talking about our day.
Then we decided on a movie, which ended up being Legally Blonde, one of our favorites. We watched it until we crashed.
I did give him a mug, to my reluctance. At least initially, anyway. Eva had a point when she told me I had lots already. Most I got as presents. I left the mug sitting in another paper bag in front of his door. I chose the one that had a picture of the middle finger prominently displayed in all its vividly-colored glory. I had two of those anyway and it made me feel better. I’d just never thought when I got it that I’d be lending it to a stranger.
But what I didn’t do was give him a screwdriver.
Chapter Four
Bets
Fortuity’s festivals kicked ass.
They were always mixed with a whole lot of flair, sweet treats, and the kind of energy that swept you in and took hold of you.
There was something about the spirit of it that brought out the kid in me. It was so easy to immerse myself in the festivities when a couple of hundred other people were doing the same.
Every year, we held them during the first week of September. There were a couple of other festivals throughout the year too, but one of our main ones was the one during September, purely because it ticked all the boxes. We had everything from games, to music, to food.
This year I was helping with a family friend’s stall. I volunteered in case I might pick up a thing or two. I was only going to be there until more of their people arrived.
I was looking longingly at the food outside, hoping I could create something half as good.
“Did you want to make something, Sierra?” Laura, one of the chefs, asked me, when she saw me staring longingly at the ingredients during a slow period.
“Can I?”
I don’t think she’d ever seen me cook before, but I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity. Wasn’t there some quote from Ratatouille? About how anyone can cook. That applied to me. Probably a more optimistic version of me, but still.
That was how I found myself making my own dish not long after. I placed two pork cutlets on the side, having a fabulous time being wildly experimental.
I might’ve put a lot of chili in it, and maybe some vinegar. I’d also added some sesame seeds for good measure. I loved spicy food. I didn’t understand people who couldn’t eat them. Non-chili eaters were weird. There was a competition for it somewhere here today, I was sure.
Just as I was putting the pork aside on a small dish, I looked around. A child was skipping merrily, her parents at both sides. On the stall opposite ours, a couple was deciding on a stuffed toy, both arms linked with each other.
Then my eyes stopped when I spotted a tall figure along the periphery of my vision. His face tilted slightly over to my side before his eyes went back to the piece of paper he was holding. Luke. He was reading one of the brochures that got handed out when you first arrived. I was going to put my hand up and wave, when I noticed that he was with someone, and I realized that I recognized who she was—Clarisse. She was just a little shorter than Luke. Her hair, straight and sleek, must’ve been recently dyed, and was now nearly a black shade.
My heart stopped as I spotted them. Then Clarisse whispered something in his ear before she turned around and left.
I breathed out a relieved sigh.
Luke’s eyes roamed around the stalls, until they landed on mine. Surprise flitted in those eyes. He walked over to my stall.
“Sierra.”
“You came,” I said, not hiding my surprise.
“Well, I heard there was going to be food.”
“You came to the right place.”
He accepted the plate and fork I handed him. He looked at it suspiciously and poked it, as if it would bite. Satisfied it wasn’t going to leap up and pounce, he thanked me and left.
Ten seconds later, he came back. Well, he didn’t look happy, that was for sure.
“What the hell is this?” he coughed.
“You don’t like it?” I frowned.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“I didn’t poison it. Promise.” I put a hand over my heart, doing a cross sign.
He looked at me like I’d worn a sack over my head and paraded in it. “Did you just decide to mix everything you see together and call it a dish?”
Grrr. He insulted my cooking. Again.
I plastered a smile on my face. “You don’t like it, you don’t eat it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he tried to appease me. “It sure wasn’t what I expected though.” He looked thoughtful.
“Stay for a bit and you’ll find what you’re looking for,” I said.
“Might go home after this. My sister’s getting a headache,” he explained.
“Shame.” If it was disappointment I felt, I quashed it.
His phone began to ring, and he pulled it out. He swiped a finger over the screen and put it over his ear.
“Hey. Yeah. Okay. Be there soon.” He slid it back in his pocket. But he hadn't moved yet. He didn’t look like he wanted to go.
“See you around, I guess.” Then he paused and turned back to the plate. “This isn’t bad. Could use a little less spiciness though.”
“No,” I feigned shock. “Was that real constructive criticism from you?”
“Smartass.”
I was still grinning long after he left.
I was nearly finished cooking the last piece of pork when I saw a familiar face. I blinked.
No way.
Sherry Clayton was back. I spotted her from afar. Her hair was much shorter now, and it looked good on her. She was a good friend, and last I heard, she was still in Chicago.
I called out her name. I hugged her when she came over, pulling her towards the table outside our stall. “Oh my God. You’re back.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling so broadly.
Everyone came, too. Eva waved to me as she talked to someone on the phone. Haley was eating cotton candy, while Kate was stuffing everything she bought in her bag as usual. Wes came, too, already having struck a conversation with Laura. All good people I’d known since I came to Fortuity.
But my gaze was drawn to Chase Davis, who stood just behind Sherry, keeping a little distance between them. Things were going to get interesting around here.
Those two went way back, their history colorful but bittersweet. I was there two years ago when he proposed to her in front of everyone. To our surprise, she turned him down. The gossip was rampant for a while. No one really understood why she’d done it. Then a few weeks later, she moved away.
But they were already out together, and she hadn’t even been back that long. It wasn’t going to be long before they gravitated towards each other again.
Sherry frowned, holding up her fork at the plate I handed her.
“What are these?”
“I made them,” I told her.
Her face paled. She dropped it like it burned her.
Okay. Understandable.
I turned to look at Chase expectantly, when Sherry put a hand over his, stopping him midway.
I rolled my eyes. Of course she’d do that.
“You can’t eat that. It’ll kill you,” she told him, her voice a little strained.
What was it with people? A little variety wouldn’t kill them.
“Hey! I don’t cook that bad.”
They went on to remind me about my past cooking disasters. I sighed. I’d never live any of them down.
I heard the start of some funky music, followed short
ly by someone singing their hearts out. Ah. The karaoke.
I felt a nudge behind me. I turned my head.
“Go join your friends. We can handle it from here,” Laura whispered, looking at me kindly. A few people arrived from behind, some of whom I’d recognized as part of their staff.
“Thank you!” I hugged her, thrilled.
She gave me a smile.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I said aloud. They all looked at me, a little confused.
I slipped off my apron and removed my cap. The curly mass of my hair escaped, and I shrugged on a jacket.
This was the worst idea I ever had.
I was perfectly confident taking each step up. As I got past the last one, walking right to the center of the stage so high up, I realized how many people there actually were.
Why did I think this was a good idea again? I’d never tried it before, so I thought it would be fun, but I was starting to think maybe it wasn’t after all.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I took another. I could do this. Why the hell not? I was among friends.
I let myself be caught in it, letting the music lead me. I opened my mouth and the first line came out.
I wasn’t a singer. I was pretty sure I sounded ridiculous singing “Crazy in Love”, not to mention, out of tune. But then, people already knew that about me. I sang the only way you really sang at a festival—loud and proud.
Sherry’s head moved along with the music. Then I had another brilliant idea. She needed to get up here. I dared her to come up as I sang Lady Antebellum’s “Need You Now”, subbing it with how she should get her ass up on stage now. Her welcome-back party.
She couldn’t contain the laughter. Eventually, she gave in.
We got into it with “I’m a Believer”.
People seemed to enjoy it, singing along with us. I grinned.
Eventually, I was in stitches. Sherry started to sub different lyrics in, at first accidentally, then purely for fun. And so I did too.
I honestly wouldn’t have had it any other way.
We got an applause when the music started to fade off.
Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, like she couldn’t believe what she just did.
