We mixed up the drinks and walked into the kitchen to hand them out. I attempted Hunter’s bramble and held it out to him.
He lifted his icing and cake-covered hands.
“Aren’t you supposed to be making the cake, not playing in it?”
“Somehow I got stuck on cake ball duty for all the leftover pieces from the carving Jameson’s been doing. Teresa will take them in to her class.” He glanced over his shoulder like Zara and I hadn’t walked in with drinks for everyone and he needed to sneak. “But I could absolutely use a drink.”
I lifted it to his lips, and he sipped with a grimace, keeping his gaze on mine over the rim of the glass.
“That’s delicious.”
“Liar,” I teased.
His lips curled into a smile and brushed against the backs of my fingers. “Thanks, Sabrina.”
Breathless and locking my knees so I didn’t turn into a puddle, I nodded. “No problem.”
A loud bang sliced through our moment. “Can someone clear some space on the counter? I have four cakes coming out of the oven.” Everest swung around from the oven with his mitts on and an apron, searching frantically around the crowded space.
Leo jumped out of the way. “Hey, Richie Rich, this is the second time we’re going through this today! Why didn’t you let us clear the space before you took them out?” He dodged the fiery pans, nearly jumping up onto the counter.
The two of them continued their bicker-fest. I used it as my escape. What was it about a man in the kitchen that made it impossible to resist him?
Hunter covered in powdered sugar, smelling like vanilla—he was downright edible. Down, girl.
You help a guy out with a drink and his firm yet gentle lips brush against your skin and you’re ready to pull him down onto the floor in an icing escapade that would send everyone else running from the room.
But their group was tight, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if things came down to doing a favor for me and her friendship with Hunter, Zara would choose him. The last thing I needed to do was rock the boat and have my possible expo invite rescinded.
At nearly six that evening, Teresa and Rachel came back with pizzas. Rachel had taken her shower and headed out with Teresa to make pizzas for everyone at the request of the birthday girl, and to spend some extra time with her on her special day after working a double the day before. The guys also emerged from the kitchen after a few more rounds of booze and time-outs when things got too heated.
Streaked with a rainbow of fondant and icing colors, the guys gingerly placed the five-tier cake with each layer highlighting a different superhero on the table. The superheroes all looked like toxic spill versions of themselves. But all the guys wore wide smiles and a sense of accomplishment rippled through the room.
Teresa stood on her chair and stared at the cake with wide-eyed wonder. Her giddy smile and laughter were infectious. It wasn’t hard to see how they’d all been talked into doing this for her for years now.
Who didn’t want a little kid to look at them like they were an actual superhero? Her face and excitement made me think of Ryder and how Hunter could be that superhero to him with just a conversation.
My smile faltered a bit.
Rachel popped open the metal lid on the cookie tin and instead of cookies inside there was a collection of candles. She pulled out a six and a pack of matches.
Everyone crowded around the bench-seating dining room table, bumping shoulders against one another. The room wasn’t made for nine, but we wedged in.
I leaned in and whispered to Hunter, “That’s the scariest cake I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“This is an upgrade. You should’ve seen the one they did for her fourth birthday.” He shuddered. “His creepy train eyes followed me in my nightmares for a week.” His face paled, and he swallowed thickly. “The Sesame Street one last year for her fifth wasn’t as unspeakable.”
Apparently this one wasn’t the only showstopper of horror.
“Maybe next year I’ll have a Harry Potter cake.” Teresa stood in her chair with both hands planted on the table, doing a little kid shimmy where you weren’t sure if they had to pee or not.
The guys all groaned.
“But Jameson said I need to read all the books first even though he hasn’t read them.”
I looked to Hunter. The books had been sitting on his nightstand looking well-worn and read.
Not a peep from him. Of course, he wouldn’t want to ruin his cred by admitting to liking and still reading Harry Potter, not even to his friends. He’d slipped his suit jacket back on after washing up since the cake had been assembled and decorated.
Always Mr. Put Together.
We sang “Happy Birthday” to Teresa—not Hunter, though. He very convincingly mouthed the words with his chest heaving like he was belting it out along with everyone else.
And then it hit me. I’d never even heard him so much as hum before with all the music he was constantly listening to, but I shook my head that he couldn’t even sing the simple song around his closest friends. It looked like he was used to putting up walls with everyone, even those closest to him, so that somehow made what happened between us feel less personal. It wasn’t me. It was him.
After the candles were blown out, we had cake before dinner, as was required on an occasion like this, and then ate the pizza Teresa and Rachel had made at their birthday-bonding cooking class—lopsided pizzas with way too much sauce, but they were delicious nonetheless.
Everyone was given a layer of cake to take with them. I wasn’t complaining. As scary as the cake looked, it tasted damn good. I just had to make sure I closed my eyes so the bleeding icing colors and fondant mixture, which looked like a sickly pile of week-old food or a puddle of bile, didn’t spoil the taste.
Hunter and I said goodbye to everyone, and I thanked Teresa for inviting me to her birthday. I met her request for me to show up next year with a noncommittal sound and a sprint to the front door.
We got back to the apartment, and although I hadn’t been on my feet nearly as long as Hunter had been, I was wiped. I hadn’t been around so many people for hours on end in a while.
Once again, I kicked myself for letting Seth isolate me like he had. I’d thought his homebody nature had to do with flying all over the world. I figured when he was home, he just wanted to be with me, which had been romantic. Then I thought it was because of how I looked, and he’d played right into those insecurities because it meant he got his way for longer.
Gaslighting motherfucker. But my stamina for large groups and going out had been decimated over the past couple years. Not that I had cash to run around from bar to bar, club to club, or even felt like it anymore, but I hated the time I’d wasted on him.
Maybe thinking about Seth was my defense mechanism for Hunter. He was really good at wearing two different faces, even around the people who meant the most to him. I had no doubts that the holey T-shirt, stained sweats, and jar of Nutella would never make an entrance around anyone else ever again.
The reminder couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.
We walked down the hall instead of walking toward my room, which would invite another at-the-door, lips-barely-brushing interaction. I plucked the container of cake from his hands.
“I’ll put that away.” I backed up toward the kitchen.