Thanks to couples and teenagers who couldn't decide what they wanted to buy, I spent longer at the dessert shop than I'd expected. The evening was still hot as an oven, but heavy clouds darkened the sky as I rushed back home. Strange, considering how sunny it had been two hours ago.
By the time I arrived at my apartment, the room was pitch dark. As I stepped into the entryway, a flare of light outside caught my attention. My breath hitched in my throat when I saw a floating head on my balcony.
"Oh, my—" I flinched back a step and snapped my teeth together, my eyes squeezed shut.
Peeking an eye open, I realized the thing that almost scared me to death wasn't a floating head. My infuriating neighbor was wearing all black and holding his phone under his chin, the light eerily illuminating his face from below like a scene straight from a horror movie.
As if enjoying my fear, Jake bared his teeth in a creepy grin and waved at me.
I flipped the light switch on before stomping toward the balcony. "What the heck, Goldilocks?" I shouted, swinging the door open. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something? I thought you were done with the whole balcony-hopping thing."
"You're late." He sauntered into the kitchen. "And you've never been late before. I tried to call you, but it kept going to voicemail. I thought something might've happened to you, so . . ." He shrugged.
Although he tried to act nonchalant, I detected a note of genuine concern in his voice, and it sent a rush of guilt through me. "Sorry. My battery died."
"No worries," he reassured me. As I placed the box of desserts on the kitchen island, he cocked his head forward. "Holy crab. Is that what I think it is?"
At first, I thought he was talking about the box of dessert. But he wasn't. His gaze was fixed on the cat keychain dangling from the front zipper of my bag.
Shoot.
Panic shot through me, but I managed to put on a mask of calm. "If you think I'm going to give you one of these expensive desserts in jars, then you're dumber than I thought," I said, trying to distract him.
"You know that's not what I'm talking about." A teasing grin spread across his face.
I spun around and strode toward my room. "What else can you possibly be talking about other than food?"
"Come on, Shrimp," he insisted, following me. "That's the keychain I gave you for your thirteenth birthday, isn't it? No need to be embarrassed. I mean, I still keep all the songs you—"
"Alright, fine." I stopped in my tracks and spun around to face him, causing him to stop abruptly only inches away from me. "It is. So what? You want it back or something?"
He chuckled. "No, I just . . . I can't believe you still keep it."
Feeling a blush crawling across my cheeks, I averted my gaze. "It's cute." I scurried into my bedroom and grabbed the stack of photos I'd prepared. "Let's get to work."
I locked my apartment and followed him into his. When Jake opened the door, Princess Tortie dragged herself out of her new, pink velvet bed beside her throne near the window. Yawning, she stretched out her front paws and lifted her butt high in the air before sauntering toward us.
"Hey, Princess Tortie," I greeted.
"Meow." She bumped her head against my leg, and I bent down to rub her head, smiling.
It's nice to have a pet, huh?
As Princess Tortie sauntered toward her daddy, I stood straight and handed him the photos. "Here you go. Do your magic."
"What's the magic word?" Jake teased.
I rolled my eyes and muttered, "Please do your magic."
"Atta girl." To my exasperation, he patted the top of my head.
I shot him a death glare, but he ignored me. He motioned me to follow him to the kitchen, where he'd set up his laptop and scanner on the dining table, and pulled out a chair for me. Settling on the seat next to me, he laced his fingers together and stretched his arms forward.
"Alright." He clicked the mouse a few times. "I just need some background music . . ."
"Hey, Jake." My eyes almost popped out of my head when I heard my voice coming from the laptop. "Happy eleventh birthday! I wrote this song just for you."
Cheerful yet somewhat muted down strums of a guitar blasted my eardrums. Panicked, I stretched my arms toward the laptop to stop the music from playing, but Jake covered the keyboard with his much bigger arms.
"You're like my peanut butter to my jelly.
You're like my meatball to my spaghetti.
We're inseparable, we're unbreakable.
It's always gonna be you and me . . ."
As 9-year-old me started singing the silly song, heat crept up my neck and across my cheeks. "Quit playing around, will you?"
"What? You sound nice." There was a genuine note of appreciation in his voice.
"No, I don't. I sound like a screeching kitten."
He chuckled. "Oh, come on. 9-year-old you sang better than any 9-year-olds I know." As I suppressed a smile, he continued, "I always thought you'd be a singer or an actress or something."
"Yeah, well, I was this close"—I pinched my thumb and finger almost together—"to become one. Remember that audition I told you about?"
"The teen soap opera?"
"Mm-hmm."
"What was it called?"
"Hollywood Hills."
He snapped his fingers. "You auditioned for that pop star role, right?"
"Yep. Believe it or not, I actually got the part." A thrill of pride ran through me at the memory. "I even recorded some demos for the show's soundtrack." I pointed at his laptop and added, "Including that horrible song."
He blinked at me in surprise. "You never told me that."
"I was going to, but then the accident happened. I spent too much time in the hospital and eventually lost the part. So I figured there was no need to tell anyone about it." Disappointment still flowed through me when I remembered what had happened, but I stretched my mouth into a tight smile to conceal it.
"Right." Jake nodded. "Well, don't feel too bad about it. It's not like that show ever got made anyway."
"It did. It's still airing. Seven seasons and counting." I held up seven fingers for emphasis.
His smooth forehead wrinkled. "Really? How come I've never heard of it?"
"It got a new title."
"What's the new title?"
"Malibu, 90265."
His jaw dropped wide open and stayed that way for 5.7 seconds or so. Blinking rapidly, he tried to gulp down his surprise. "You're kidding."
"Nope," I replied with a shake of my head. "Nat and I were supposed to star in it together. We used to joke about how we'd be archenemies on TV and BFFs in real life."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He licked his lips. "The role you auditioned for was Scarlett Starling?"
"Well, back then her name was Poppy Kentucky—" Jake snorted a laugh, and I chuckled with him. "Yeah, it was a silly name. I guess you could say I dodged a bullet, but it was supposed to be my breakout role, you know?"
"Wow," he said, amazement etched on his face.
"I know, right? If the accident hadn't happened, I probably would've been the five-time Super Teen Choice Award Best Frenemies winner with Nat instead of Eleanor Clarke." As a series of what-ifs filled my head, a tight knot of disappointment settled in my stomach. "Some luck, huh?"
"Hey." He nudged my shoulder with his. "Look at the bright side. Who's going to catch this Malibu Wolf if you're an actress?"
My lips twitched into a smile. "I guess you have a point."
As the knot in my stomach untangled, the song entered the second verse.
"You're like my sweet milk to my cookies.
You're like my cheese to my macaroni . . ."
"Ugh." I buried my face in my hands. "What was I thinking when I wrote this? This song deserves an award for the worst song ever."
"Aww, don't say that. I'd say this song captures the essence of our friendship," he joked, earning a snortle from me. "And Princess Tortie loves it. Every time she hears this song on TV, she always rushes into the living room, hops onto the sofa, and purrs so loud I can hear it from the next room." He stroked the back of the purring cat on his lap, and she purred louder. "Exactly like this."
I bit back a grin. "I'm pretty sure that's just because she wants to watch Super Bestie."
"True, but she loves the song. Trust me," he reassured, coaxing a chuckle from me. "How did this song end up as Super Bestie's theme song anyway?"
"When I auditioned for Hollywood Hills, my agent told the producers that I was a singer-songwriter apart from being an actress. They listened to the songs I wrote and thought this song was perfect for Poppy Kentucky's signature song. Back then, she was supposed to be a famous teen singer who was struggling to be taken seriously as a musician because of that." I pointed at the laptop as 9-year-old me sang the post-chorus.
"Da-da-da-da-da. Da-da-da-da-da. Soy sauce to my sushi . . ."
As Jake stifled a chortle, I continued, "Like I said, this was one of the demos I recorded for the show. I thought everyone had forgotten about this stupid song. Until two years ago, I got a call from one of the producers who happened to be producing Super Bestie. He was looking for a theme song for the show when he remembered this song. He offered me five hundred dollars in exchange for the rights to the song. I was broke, so I gladly took it."
"Five hundred bucks, huh? Not bad."
"Yeah. But had I known this song would be such a hit, I would've asked for more."
Jake chuckled. "You should consider a career in songwriting. You'd be rich in no time."
I barked out a laugh. "You're kidding, right? I wrote about soy sauce and sushi, Jake."
"True, but the melody's nice. Besides, you've gotten better over the years. Remember that song you sent me a day before my bone marrow transplant?"
"Shine Like a Star?"
"Uh-huh. That's my favorite."
"Really?"
"Really."
Warmth spread across my chest, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "You don't seriously still keep all the songs I sent you, right?"
"Oh, I do," he teased. "I still keep all of them."
An alarm blared in my head. I'd written some of the silliest songs in the entire history of songwriting to cheer Jake up while he'd been in the hospital. The Bestie Song playing from the speakers right now was just the tip of the iceberg.
"'Cause you're my bestie!" 9-year-old me tried to hit an E7 but sounded like a screaming kitten instead.
Embarrassment heated my cheeks, hot as a flame. "Oh, f—please, please, for the love of cats, stop that song. I sound awful!"
He cackled with laughter. "Come on, Linds. You sound much better than that kid who sings this song for Super Bestie."
"No, I don't. Now, stop it—" I stretched my arm to take control of the laptop, but he grabbed the laptop and swiveled in his seat. "Jake, I swear to—"
"Alright, alright. I'll turn it off . . ." He allowed his voice to trail away.
"Why do I sense a but coming?"
"I seem to recall seeing you carrying a box of desserts from Dessertholic earlier." As I narrowed my eyes threateningly at him, he teased, "That's the reason you were late, isn't it?"
A tinge of guilt pricked me, and I grunted, "Fine."
His face split into an ear-to-ear grin, one that annoyed me to bits.
"Darn Goldilocks," I muttered, stomping out of his apartment. I took the box of desserts in my kitchen and brought it to Jake's apartment.
When I came back, Jake was standing on his balcony talking on the phone with someone. "Yeah. I get that it's your first time and it can be really scary, but you don't have to worry. She's one of our best. A little high maintenance, yes, but she's an absolute angel. You won't regret taking her home. I promise."
Hmm? What is he talking about? He's not running some shady business, is he?
I was about to continue eavesdropping when my phone buzzed.
@Malibu90265 just shared a photo
Since The Malibu Wolf targeted people who frequently left comments on Malibu, 90265's posts, I'd turned on TweetyGram's post notification feature for the TV show's official account. Clicking the notification allowed me to automatically switch to Louise's account and visit the new post.
It was a photo of Nat sitting next to her co-star Keone, his arm slung around her shoulders.
Highschool sweethearts, forever ❤️
#Malibu90265 #TeamTori #TrashForever
Taking a deep breath, I entered my fake fangirling mode and left an all-too-excited comment.
heyitslouiseee: YASSS #TRASH is ENDGAME!!! @NatalieWinters I ❤️❤️❤️ you! #TeamTori #TrashForever
The Malibu fandom had the worst ship names ever; Scary for Scarlett and Tori, Asshat for Scarlett and Ash, and Trash for Tori and Ash. Still, based on the conversations I'd read on IHeartMalibu.com, I could safely say it was one of the friendliest fandoms I'd ever encountered.
"What do we have here?" Jake plopped on the chair next to me and rubbed his hands together, eyeing the box of desserts on the table.
I let out a huff and opened the box. "Just pick one, and only one, alright?"
"Okay, okay." He ran a finger over the twelve different jars of desserts before he took the one with the rainbow cake in it. As he plucked a spoon from the utensil holder, Medusa Lindsey reminded me of something important.
"Wait, wait, wait." I stopped Jake before he could open the jar.
"Hmm?" He flicked his gaze to me, the spoon hanging out of his mouth like a lollipop.
"Excuse me." I took the jar from his hand, placed it back with the others in the box, and opened the camera app on my phone.
As I tried to find the perfect angle that would capture both the food and a glimpse of Jake's impressive arms, he asked, "Taking a photo for TweetyGram?"
"Uh-huh." I snapped a few pictures and chose the one where the lighting made both the desserts and Jake's arms look mouthwatering.
Sundays 💛🧡
#TreatDay
I was about to press the post button when my conscience nagged at me. Posting a picture of Jake, even if it was just his arms, without his consent felt like I was violating his privacy.
"What's wrong?" Jake asked.
"Nothing." I locked my phone and gave him the rainbow cake in a jar. "Here you go."
"Thanks." He opened the jar, scooped up a spoonful of cake, and moaned in delight upon tasting the food. "Hmm. This is gooood."
My stomach protested as I watched him eat. I snatched a spoon from the utensil holder, opened the jar of apple cake parfait, and shoveled a spoonful into my mouth. The delicious combination of sautéed apples, moist cinnamon cake, and fluffy whipped cream cheese burst on my tongue.
It was as heavenly as I imagined it, and it was worth every penny.
Jake and I continued eating as we—well, he edited the photos for Louise's TweetyGram. By the time the clock struck eleven, all twelve jars of desserts were empty. I wanted to smack Jake on the back of his head for eating half of the food I'd bought with my hard-earned money. But then again, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have had twenty photos ready to be posted on Louise's TweetyGram. So this time, I decided to play nice.
"Thanks, Goldilocks," I said as he walked me to the front door. "As much as I hate to say it, I couldn't have done it without you."
"You're welcome." I was about to excuse myself when he said, "Hey, wait here. I got you a little something."
"Hmm?" Curiosity filled me as he dashed into his bedroom.
He returned seconds later with a white shopping bag. "You're a size two, right?"
I jerked my head back and frowned. "Have you been in my closet?"
He chuckled. "My mom's a fashion designer, remember? I have trained eyes."
Suspicion still tingled along my nerves, yet I ignored it and focused on the shopping bag he was holding. It had a sun logo and the word Lacy's printed in white on both sides. Lacy's was a famous department store that sold just about anything, from toys to pet supplies to lingerie. Seeing the logo had me wondering what was in the bag.
"What's that?" I pointed at the bag.
"This"—he held it up—"is a surprise."
I arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "For me?"
"No, it's for Princess Tortie," he deadpanned. "Yes, of course it's for you."
"Wow. Thanks." I took the bag, peeked into it, and found a simple white shirt box. Considering he'd just asked about my size, I was sure the box held some kind of clothing inside.
Up until we'd lost contact seven years ago, Jake had always sent me cute, useless stuff on my birthday. But my birthday was still six months away.
As I stared at the box, I began to wonder if this had anything to do with the dinner we were going to have with his grandma on Friday.
"Go on," he said. "Open it."
My curiosity drove me to do as told. Inside the box was one of the most gorgeous dresses I'd ever seen. Bold mustard-yellow color that complimented the vibrancy of my copper-red hair, a square neckline that would flaunt my collarbone without showing too much cleavage, and a combination of puff sleeves, cinched waist, and a-line skirt that would accentuate my curves—or lack thereof.
The dress was almost perfect.
Almost.
"I saw it at the store earlier, and I thought it'd look good on you," Jake said. "Maybe you could wear it on Friday."
In another lifetime, I would've accepted the thoughtful gift and gladly wore it to the dinner with him and his grandma on Friday.
But I couldn't.
The dress would reveal all the scars on my limbs and even the ones on my back. While I could wear a pair of leggings under the dress to cover my legs, the puff sleeves made it impossible for me to pair the dress with a jacket.
"I'm sorry. I can't wear this." I folded the dress and placed it back in the box. "Don't worry though. I've prepared the best outfit for Friday. Your grandma's going to love it."
"Oh, okay." Disappointment flashed in his eyes. As I was about to give the bag back to him, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, almost as if he had the weirdest kind of revelation. "Oh . . . I know what this is about."
"Huh?"
He pulled his mouth to the side. "You want me to use my remaining request, do you?"
"What?" I furrowed my brow. "What are you talking about? That's not—"
"Alright, alright." He lifted his hands in resignation. "For my second request, I want you to wear this dress—"
"Jake, I said no," I snapped.
It took him aback. "Oh. Okay. Sorry."
Guilt surged through me for being rude to him when he was just trying to be nice. A huge part of me wanted to explain everything to him, but I didn't.
I couldn't.
Avoiding his gaze, I held out the bag, which he reluctantly took. Then, without a word, I rushed out of his place and went straight into mine. As I closed the door behind me, my energy drained away. I leaned back against the door and closed my eyes, wondering if I'd ruined the most important friendship I'd ever had.
Author's Note:
For those who have read The Sister Zone, do you remember The Bestie Song? 😁
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading!