Arden
Sushi. Don’t skimp out on the spicy mayo.
Declan breathes a laugh, watching my face light up. He shakes his head and slaps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, Fork.”
Not only do I show up with enough sushi to feed the entire apartment complex, I bring a bottle of red, too. For Red. That’s what she picked at Lowesy’s house, so I assume it’s a favourite. I’m sweetening this deal in whatever way that I can.
She opens the door wearing an oversized sweater and black leggings. Her red hair is pulled up on the top of her head in a messy bun. She looks from the sushi in my hands to my face, but then she gives me a once-over from head to toe from behind her black-rimmed glasses.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
I cock a brow. “It’s a game day. We wear suits.”
And I look hot as hell, thank you very much.
“You didn’t change before you came here?”
“I had to grab the food.”
She stares at me for a moment, looking like she’s regretting inviting me over at all, but after a second of consideration, she nods and steps aside to let me into her apartment. I catch that little eye roll as she does, like showing up dressed like this was a tactic to win her over.
It wasn’t intentional, but like I said, I look damn good. If it works, it works.
I glance around her apartment and am quite surprised at the home she’s made for herself. Arden’s got a lot of personality. She’s sassy, quick-witted, and assertive. She’s serious, studious, and mature beyond her years. I expected lots of books, a bit of mess, and some colourful prints on the wall. I expected a vintage, but trendy velvet couch and some interesting tapestry. All things that would immediately make sense when I pictured a space she lives in.
I didn’t expect white walls, beige couches, and a simple black coffee table. Nothing on the walls. No personal touches. There’s a rug, but it’s just as plain as the rest of the house. Even her television stand is void of any personal identifiers.
There is no life in this place.
I don’t make a single comment about it. Not after last time.
I turn to her and smile instead. “Where do you want this?”
She points to the coffee table and then vanishes into the kitchen. She comes back with some plates and a couple bottles of water, holding a notebook under her armpit.
“Brought this for you, too,” I say, handing her the red wine. “We don’t need to have it now. I just didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
She slowly lowers herself to the couch, her eyes pinching a bit. “You brought an entire sushi restaurant with you.”
Please, give me a break. I’m dying here.
“It’s a gesture, Red.”
She lets out a long breath, but hops back onto her feet and scurries from the room again, returning with two wine glasses. It’s a screw cap, so within a second, she twists it off and starts pouring us both a glass.
“Figured we’ll need it for this conversation.”
I lean back on the couch. “Oh?”
She brings her glass to her lips before she opens her notebook. I see so much writing in those pages that for a moment, I’m terrified of what she’s about to say. But then she lands on a page and presses her palm to it, hesitating for a moment, before she hands it to me.
I take it and come face to face with the most beautiful handwritten list I've ever seen. Where her apartment is void of any personality, her notebook has it all. Gorgeous, girly writing. Like, calligraphy level shit. Different colour highlighters shading different words.
But it’s the title that jumps out at me.
RULES FOR BEING MRS. FAUX FORKER
I breathe out a laugh, and Arden digs into the sushi instead of focusing on my reaction to her list.
