Like two wide-eyed chihuahuas, Riley and Lauren sit on the barstools by the counter, their eyes shining with humor. They watch the two of us in complete silence, like we’re the afternoon’s entertainment. I manage to shoot Lauren a glare. Sheknewher brother would be here—I can see it in her eyes.
And he looks good. His espresso hair is perfectly trimmed—not because he’s fashionable, but because he’s a creature of habit, and he’s had it cut on the first Saturday of every month since he was twelve. He looks carefree, and if I hadn’t waited so long, he might have been mine. And then this would have been easy.
Instead of shooting confectioner’s sugar about the kitchen, I would have teased him not to drink from the carton, told him to go take a shower because he’s a sweaty mess and his mother wouldn’t want him lounging in her kitchen in that state. He would laugh and pull me against him, kissing me as a distraction. Lauren and Riley would have protested, but I wouldn’t have cared, because…Brandon.
Because Brandon.
Ugh, I’m a mess. An emotional and literal mess. I have cocoa powder and sugar in my hair and all over my shirt. Lauren’s cat, Penelope, eyes me from what she’s dubbed asherbarstool, giving me a condescending feline look that could be interpreted as, “Poor clumsy human. She’s going to end up a spinster.”
And catsknowthese things. How do you think they find the right women to cozy up to? Some of us carry the crazy cat lady stamp only they can see. I’m only twenty-one, and they’re already eying me.
“You’re off your game today,” Brandon says, laughing. He grabs a handful of paper towels from the holder, leaving half a ripped-off piece behind. Normally, it would drive me insane, but now I focus on it, trying not to think about the fact that Brandon is right here, in my space, handing me the wadded paper towels and brushing his hands over my hair.
I mumble something—who knows what—and wipe the cocoa and confectioner’s sugar off my shirt…while I stare at his chest. Which is alsoright there. It’s a nice chest, especially up close—the defined kind you want to step into…lean against…fall asleep next to while you’re watching movies on the couch.
My nose comes to his shoulder. I could brush my lips against the side of his neck without even standing on my tiptoes. But I don’t do that for two reasons. One, he has a girlfriend. Two, said girlfriend just stepped into the kitchen.
Sadie’s eyes widen with surprise, but she quickly schools the expression. Like the sweet little Wonderland runaway she is, she waves at us all, as shy as a kitten, and gives us a soft smile. “Hi, everyone.”
Her hair-of-many-golden-colors falls far past her shoulders, as sleek as a waterfall. She even has a thin black headband holding it in place, finishing off her Alice-esque look. Could she be any more perfect?
AndSadie?What kind of name is that? Brandon and Sadie…
Actually, it’s pretty adorable. That irks me as well.
Utterly oblivious to the thoughts I was having about him two seconds ago, Brandon steps away from me and pulls Sadie into a tight hug. This, of course, makes her giggle. Finally, Brandon releases her, looping his arm around her shoulders.
Lauren’s eyes dart to me before she smiles at Brandon’s ever-so-lovely girlfriend. “Hey, Sadie. Brandon said you were going to do some shopping this afternoon.”
Sadie clasps her hands at her waist. “I finished up early and wanted to spend as much time with Brandon as possible, so I headed back here.”
Oh, gag.
Remembering I’m still covered in cocoa, I turn away from the group to clean up.
“What are you making?” Sadie asks.
“Harper’s chocolate cupcakes,” Riley says, and I shoot her a subtle glare over my shoulder. No reason to draw me into the conversation. My sister ignores me. “They’re the best.”
“Sadie likes to bake too,” Brandon feels the need to add. “Maybe she can help?—”
Sadie laughs, spooked. “Oh, gosh—no. I don’t want to intrude.”
I make the mistake of glancing at Brandon. He gives me a stern look, the kind that tells me I must be nice. I grit my teeth and force a smile.
“No, please, we’d love you to join us.” I am proud to say the words sound sincere. Sort of. “Take a seat.”
“Oh…well, okay,” Sadie says, though she throws me an uncertain look. “Let me just wash my hands.”
She makes her way to the sink, and I give Brandon a tight smile. He narrows his eyes. Because there’s a strange expression ghosting across his face, one that makes me uncomfortable, Iwalk out of the kitchen. “I’m going to clean up. Sadie, the frosting recipe is on the counter if you want to start over.”
I escape to the privacy of the Alderman’s hall bathroom and gasp as soon as I look in the mirror. The damage is worse than I thought. My face is smudged with dark brown cocoa powder and splotches of confectioner’s sugar. I look like a little kid pretending to be a train-jumping hobo for Halloween.
“Good job, Harper,” I mutter to myself.
Because Brandon’s mom always has her favorite guest towels on display, I dig through the basket under the cupboard until I find an old (as old as they get in this house) washcloth. After several minutes of damage control, I’m clean. My makeup, however, didn’t fare so well. I study my reflection for several long minutes, silently comparing myself to Sadie even though I know it’s not healthy.
I’m blond like she is, but that’s where the similarities end. Where her hair is a carefully crafted collection of highlights and lowlights, mine’s one solid shade of wheat. Her eyes are huge and blue; mine are dark hazel—not quite green, not quite brown. I’m taller than she is—only six inches shorter than Brandon, who stands at six-foot-two. And where I do have a nice figure, hers is fuller in areas that tend to appeal to guys.
