Still, Nora smiles at me.
God, sheâs even more beautiful than I remember, and itâs only been a week since Iâve seen her.
Nora grabs the milk and walks over to the fridge. âYou missed the most epic baking fail. Tessa added whipped cream instead of whipping cream to the scone recipe.â
âWe said that was going to be a secret,â Tessa grumbles playfully. She looks at me. âThe dough fell flat.â
âYeah. After the scones burned,â Nora says over her shoulder.
I think I like how comfortable she seems to be feeling here. I like that she walks with ease through the kitchen, her back straight and her full mouth partly smiling, relaxed. She opens the fridge and places the milk inside. I look away when she bends over to grab a pitcher full of cold water from the bottom shelf. I try not to let my mind linger on the tightness of her white pants. They arenât quite sweats, but they arenât really yoga pants either. I donât care what they are: her ass looks incredible with the fabric stretched over it, accentuating the melon shape.
Sheâs wearing a long-sleeved baseball-style shirt, the arms of which are a different color from the body, and her deep-blue sleeves are pushed up to her elbows. Her thick, dark hair is pulled up into a high ponytail and her socks have little cartoon bacon and eggs printed on them. The skin of her stomach is showing, but I refuse to look, knowing I wonât be able to stop.
Nora walks over to the oven and pulls out a tray of biscuits, or maybe theyâre scones? Probably scones. I typically donât care for them; Grind sells only incredibly healthy scones that taste like olive-oil-covered grains baked into wheatgrass bread. Not for me.
My momâs professional-level skills as a baker ruined me for anybody elseâs cookies or cakes. Our house was always full of sweets, which is probably why I was a pudgy kid. I have to work a little harder than normal people to be able to eat the things I like without putting on weight. It took me a while to realize that, but Iâm glad I did. I remember how it felt when the assholes at my high school stopped having a reason to make fun of my weightânot that they didnât find another reason to treat me like shitâbut I felt lighter, mentally and physically, and I started gaining a confidence Iâd never felt before.
Tessa and Nora have been in the kitchen every day this week, but Iâve been hiding in my room, trying to get my school assignments done and just plain crashing after work. Even in my dreams I hear the displeased customersâ voices as they stare at the menu board on the wall.
âUm, do you have, like, Frappuccinos here? Like Starbucks?â
âWhy donât you have cashew milk?â
âWhatâs the difference between a cappuccino and a latte?â
I only worked three hours tonight, but this week has exhausted me. As tired as I am, though, I donât think I want to hide in my room tonight. I want to talk to Tessa, and even to Nora. I hate the way my chest tightens when she looks at me, the way her eyes always catch mine. Iâm making a choice to be social tonight. Itâs nice for me to engage with people, even if itâs just the two of them.
Nora takes the scones off of the hot pan and places them on a cooling rack. They smell like blueberries. I sit down at the small three-person table and watch Nora move around the room. She picks up a plastic bag full of yellow goo and twists the end, creating a puffy triangle of creamy icing. She places a small metal tip on the pointy end and squeezes the icing on top of each scone.
Nora says something about how icing makes scones taste better, but Iâm too busy trying to make sure my eyes donât linger on her ass for a beat too long to really pay attention.
Iâm also suddenly struck with the question of whether I should stay out here with them or not. I donât want to be in the way.
âHow was work?â Tessa asks.
She dips her finger into a bowl of thick batter, speckled with blue chunks. Blueberries, maybe? Her mouth opens and she pops her finger into her mouth.
I look over at Nora, whoâs pushing up her sleeves again. Which leads me to notice the material at the bottom of the shirt. It looks like itâs been cut with scissors to reveal the bottom four inches of her abdomen.