Have you ever realized that you should be nicer? It shouldn't be a grand realization, but it was for me. Like a slap across the face that shouts, "HEY YOU! YES, YOU! BE NICER TO THE ONES WHO DESERVE IT! DON'T TREAT THEM WORSE THAN A STRANGER! THEY DESERVE THE BEST YOU! NOT THE LEFTOVERS YOU HAVE LEFT AT THE END OF THE DAY!"
That was the "be nice slap," that hit me as I opened the three bags that Tate brought inside my office building. Iz was looking around my office, giving me a moment of privacy to scope out the chocolate cake.
I spotted the chocolate cake in the first bag. A beautiful rich dark chocolate cake covered in chocolate chips and decorated in swirls of chocolate roses.
I popped the lid off and took in the smell, the rich dark cocoa wafting over me and nearly causing me to drool right on the cake. "This smells like my next addiction."
I laughed when I spotted two bottles of milk in the bag next to the cake. My eyes moved back to the cake, pulled by an invisible force that demanded I keep staring. The cake was beautiful. I stared closer and my eyes grew wide as realization hit.
It wasn't store-bought. The memory of Tate's fingers covered in white powered sprang to mind.
"Did he make this... for me?" I whispered, afraid that if I said it any louder, it would be true. The gesture would real, and the effort and time put in would translate into a sort of declaration I didn't want to think about. He's just being nice.
I cleared my throat, overwhelmed by the gesture, and moved onto the second bag, no longer wanting to stare at the beautiful cake. Two giant containers of fish and chips, a mixed green salad, two boxes of donuts, and a sushi platter filled the second bag. How many people did he bring food for?!? Does Iz eat like Tate? I laughed, moving on to the final bag, wondering what on earth would be next.
In the third bag, I spotted an entire plate of homemade banana bread filled with chocolate chips, that had been carefully saran wrapped. Four water bottles, two bottles of black coffee, pain medication, and— "a wrist brace," I breathed.
I blinked, my vision swimming. "You sweet idiot," I murmured, finding it hard to breathe. I pulled it out, fingers trembling, beyond touched. I spotted a note underneath the wrist brace. It was short, but that didn't stop it from being the sweetest note I'd ever been given.
"Take care of yourself Fire Hydrant Girl. Once that wrist is better, I fully expect you to keep on swinging at every obstacle that comes your way."
-Tate "Convertible Guy"
Now that is a letter, I thought, comparing Tate's words and gifts to the dramatic Uggo plant and the letter that came with it, which had a creepy vibe. That stupid plant had been something I would never want in any universe or in any version of my own timeline... EVER. It was a weird spectacle that told me how little the giver knew me. But Tate had given me things I would actually use and need. He had even gone against his love of sugary coffee and gotten me straight black coffee. It was like seeing everything I loved, collected into three incredibly thoughtful bags.
And it left me feeling vulnerable, seen, and somewhat terrified. You've gotten to know me better than I thought, Dalton.
After putting on the wrist brace, I tucked the note into my pocket, with no intention of throwing it away. It was perfect. A reminder that even if I could never have Tate, there was a brief moment where I felt taken care of by him, that I had found a way into his thoughts and that was beautiful.
"Oh good! You put on the brace!" Iz exclaimed, popping up next to me. "Tate wasn't sure if you'd be open to wearing it."
I tried not to smile. I didn't blame him. It was hard to get me to do anything. But I wasn't an idiot. The brace was going to keep me from hurting it worse. I had enough common sense to know that. It also helped that Tate wasn't here when I decided to put it on. I didn't want to deal with his smug... sexy smile. Dimples that made him adorable and sexy all at once. Like the perfect package of "sexily adorkable" a total dork which was adorable and sexy. Stop brain!
"Yeah, I am not the easiest person to deal with," I said with a shrug, walking towards my office.
"You seem fine to me," Iz replied, her eyes bouncing across everything as she moved like my shadow, following me into my office, her eyes bright, drinking in everything.
I shot her a challenging grin. "Well, give me an update before you leave today. You'll probably change your mind." I motioned towards my masquerade dress with a halfhearted wave from where it hung on the hanger. "There it is."
Iz gasped. "Ohmygosh," she sputtered through her fingers. "This is your best piece yet." She walked towards the dress, her motions slow like she was afraid of shattering an illusion.
I crossed my arms, amused. "How do you know if this is the best piece I've made? You just met me."
Iz didn't spare me a glance, her eyes too focused on the dress. "I've followed your work in magazines." She crouched before the bottom of the dress, fingers hovering over the delicate lace. "I want to do what you do when I get older. Make beautiful things."
Iz looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with determination. "So put me to work Ms. Winters. I'm ready for whatever you throw at me."
I grinned, impressed by the challenge in her voice. I knew I liked this kid.
...
I stood mouth open wide, like a baby bird waiting to be fed, arms outstretched to keep my balance on the small platform I stood on, finishing off the bird-like pose. Iz reached towards me, fork filled with a bite of chocolate cake in one hand, a large plate hovering beneath it with the other.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Iz asked, hesitant as she moved towards my mouth, cake now hovering dangerously close to my masquerade dress.
"Yep. Believe it or not, we do this all the time here." I replied, opening my mouth a little wider.
I wore the masquerade dress so Iz could finish the bottom, layering the lace so it laid naturally against the material as I moved in it. I couldn't take off the dress until she was done without impaling myself with pins. It was like wearing inverted porcupine garb. Beautiful, unstable, and deadly.
But even after I had eaten most of what Tate had brought, I had gotten hungry again and the chocolate cake was calling me. So with a bit of creativity, Iz was handing me bites of cake while I stood perfectly still, like a street performing statue.
Iz giggled. "Somehow I find it hard to believe. I think you just want cake."
I enjoyed the rich flavor that filled my mouth as I took a bite of pure perfection. Chocolate frosting, an airy cake body, and chocolate chips swirled together, making me forget I was in the middle of a conversation for a long beautiful moment. Transforming me into a world of bliss and chocolate.
I opened my eyes and smiled. "I mean... you're not wrong. BUUUUT, seriously, when a model is in an outfit that they need to wear for a long period of time, and we can't get them out of it, we feed them very carefully while they stand there, frozen."
Iz snorted. "You are making that up! Models don't eat."
I ate another bite. Yum!
"My models do." I insisted. "If someone gets hungry, you feed them."
I took a final bite, enjoying the last bit of chocolate. "I make clothes for people and people eat. They should go hand in hand." I looked down at the empty plate. "Maybe not chocolate cake. That's playing with fire. I mean..."
I motioned down at the dress, "We dropped some." I shot Iz a mischievous grin as she stepped back like the plate she was holding was on fire.
"I got some on the dress?!?!" she squeaked, panicked.
I laughed. "Nope. You're fine."
She sighed, deflating like a balloon as relief filled her. "Don't scare me like that!" Kneeling down in front of my dress again, she wiped her hands on a napkin, thoughtfully and began to work on the dress hem.
"That was too easy." I teased.
Iz threaded the lace carefully, her green eyes laser-focused as her small hands worked the bottom. "I didn't take you for a joker," she mused.
Iz was fast. Taking every set of instructions and finishing it in record time with the skill of a girl who had been sewing for years. It was impressive and made me realize that someday down the road, she would surpass me. Become the one giving instructions, creating the clothes, and no doubt running her own business much bigger than mine. The vision of that potential future didn't make me sad like I thought it would. It made me feel proud. And with that came a bout of homesickness. I miss my sisters.
"Normally not," I admitted. "You just remind me of my sisters."
"They must be cool then," Iz replied wiggling her eyebrows.
"They very much are," I said thoughtfully. "Thanks for the cake."
"Thank Tate when you see him next. Took him three tries to make it."
I blinked, my brain stalling on the image of Tate standing in the kitchen, trying to make me something.
"What?" was the only word that fell out of my mouth. I didn't seem to be capable of saying anything clever or coherent.
Iz laughed. "Yeah, he sucks at baking. But he got this crazy idea in his head that he really wanted to make a chocolate cake. He nearly burnt his apartment down."
The image in my mind grew. Tate waiting for the cake to rise in the oven, it collapsing. Him pulling it out, most likely eating his mistake and trying it again. Burning the second one in the process, before making something that was good enough to give me.
"What?" My brain tried again, stalling on the image of Tate's hands covered in flour.
Iz paused and looked up at me, an unreadable expression crossing her face. "Do you like Tate?"
"What?" was the only word I seemed capable of saying. I had lost all access to my vocabulary and was left with a one-word button option. My vision blurred and I suddenly had a hard time remembering how to get access to air.
Iz's eyes went wide as she looked up at me. "You okay? You look like you are going to pass out."
"What?" I said like the original dialogist that I was. I was frozen on a single word, on the verge of having a panic attack because a fifteen-year-old had asked me a question I didn't want to answer.
A set of warm hands wrapped around mine. Calm green eyes filled my vision. "Hey, Allie. Breathe."
I took in a deep breath, my brain and body stumbling back to the starting line of reality. "Sorry," I breathed, registering Iz's strong grip on my fingers, her gaze steady on mine.
"Don't apologize. This isn't the first panic attack I've witnessed. Sometimes you just need to know someone is there to catch you when you feel like you are going to fall into a black hole." She gave my hands an encouraging squeeze before stepping back.
Iz tugged on several strands of her long brown hair, looking sheepish. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked—"
I shook my head and sighed, still trapped on the platform, unable to move until the dress was done. "It's not your fault." I stared at the door. "Relationships terrify me." I laughed hollowly. "It's a staple of regular girl conversation. A sign of trust that I am not very good at sharing. There was no way you could have known."
Iz knelt at the side of the dress, continuing to adjust the lace. "I won't ask again."
"Can I ask you something?" I asked, embarrassed that I had almost passed out and destroyed all of our work, and nearly dying by a thousand sewing pins in the process. That would be an utterly dramatic way to go.
"Sure!" Iz chirped, seeming relieved that I wanted to talk at all.
It took physical effort not to shift my feet and avoid all of my self-consciousness tells. "Does Tate like Laliana?" Iz had already seen me at one of my worst moments, there was not much pride left to keep my curiosity at bay.
Iz paused and she slowly looked up at me. "Been reading the tabloids have you?" A wide smile crossed her face.
I coughed but managed to stay upright. "I... well..." Smooth Allie. Real coherently smooth. "I... well... I met Laliana the other night and—"
Iz started laughing hysterically. "Relax! You aren't on trial!" She fell backwards, hitting the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to freak you out that much!"
I glared, irritated that she had played me so well. "HA. HA. SOOOO FUNNY IZ."
Iz wiped her face and sat back up, her eyes still full of laughter. "I don't blame you for asking."
Iz began to move her finger through the air, drawing a diagram to explain. "Tate and Laliana are best friends. The tabloids LOVE making that into a love triangle. But Laliana is very much in love with my brother, Aiden and he is very much in love with her. Aiden and Tate are cousins, so it just adds to the fake drama." She waved her hand as if wiping away the fake diagram. "Anyway... nope. They aren't dating."
Iz went back to work on the dress, chuckling quietly.
I expected relief to flood me. For my heart to flutter with excitement at the idea that Tate wasn't dating Laliana. But it didn't... Instead, a cold and terrifying dread filled me. I continued to stare quietly at Iz, growing nervous. "Um... Iz.
"Hmm?" she asked, her gaze still on the dress.
My voice felt too loud in the quiet room. "That's not what I asked."
"What?" Iz seemed distracted, her smile falling slightly.
"I asked if Tate liked Laliana."
"Oh?" Iz said, making no move to fill the silence with any additions.
"Iz?"
She suddenly stood up and pulled out her phone. "Oh my gosh! I completely forgot! It's later than I realized. I need to text Tate and tell him to come get me soon." She moved for the door in a hurry. "Be right back."
I watched Iz disappear through my office door, her hair swooshy out behind her as she headed out into the main office room.
I let out a breath of air, trapped on the platform in a large dress. "Crap."
I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling, thinking. So Tate likes Laliana but she's in love with his cousin... I feel like I'm in a Korean Drama.
I had always wanted to create outfits for one of the shows. But being in the middle of a real one was utterly exhausting.
Poor Tate. Trapped in a crush on his best friend who is in love with his cousin... That sucks. Suddenly my own crush felt manageable. My car would be fixed and Tate would be out of my life. He was stuck with his.
Iz walked back into the room, avoiding eye contact, eyes glued to her phone. "Sorry about that." She tucked her phone back into her pocket and got back to work on the dress. "What were we talking about?" she asked distractedly.
"Nothing," I lied.
It will be nothing soon anyway.
---
Thank you for reading chapter twenty! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
Laliana and Tate aren't dating! YAY FOR ALLIE!
But Iz seems to be avoiding a serious question. Does Tate actually like Laliana? If so... what does that mean?!? Will that change things?
Tate is insanely sweet. If you needed something brought or baked, what would you hope Tate would bring you?
CHAPTER QUESTION - Do you have a friend that you trust enough to tell them about your crush?