“I saidsorry,” Kyran grits.
Crimson pops the grape in her mouth and shakes her head.
But Crisis clasps her hands together,beholdingCrimson as though her life has been spared. “My hero. My love. My knight in shining armor. The reason I wake each morning with breath in my lungs.”
“Worry not, dearness,” Crimson soothes, cupping Crisis’s face as rose petals swirl around them in a befuddling frenzy because I could have swornCrisis was marrying Vikor? A lamale lead, she says, “I’ll always protect you.”
Okay… So. Three’s a crowd. Got it. I’ll just…sit here, then. Maybe eat some garlic bread. Try not to feel intimidated. Or adrift. In an ocean of hot people.
Death by drowning in pheromones is certainly not the worst way to go.
Oh, come on, girlie pop!I take a deep breath and encourage myself.Let’s look on the bright side, Clara! You have yet to be sexually assaulted!
Yay!
Yay?
Yaaay…
Yikes.
The bar is participating in a game of limbo with the devil.
Munching a piece of garlic bread that has appeared on my plate, I keep my head down, eyes focused on the lasagna that seems to have also materialized on my plate. It’s a heaping helping. It’s the sort of helping Mom would scorn and condemn as adetriment to my figure, before suggesting I join whatever new diet she’s trying as though most of them haven’t reminded me of the Dragon Warrior diet inKung Fu Panda.
That is to say, they consist entirely of universe juice and dew.
This time, when veggies appear on my plate, I locate the serving spoon they’re tumbling off of and follow the arm to Lukas, hithertofore known as: the culprit.
I’m not sure whether I should be grateful or offended that Lukas dumpedthis much foodin my plate while I was trying to scope out the atmosphere.
I know I’m chubby, but the majority of my weight can’t exactly be helped without surgery, and the rest is sincerely an effort at proportioning my top-heaviness for optimal comfort. You know. So I don’t snap in two when I lean forward. I exist in a world of back pain and difficulty breathing. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m having an anxiety attack, or if it’s just the darned weight of the world on my bra straps again.
Exercise is hard. Life is hard.
Food is good.
Food does not betray me.
I opt not to think about whether or not Lukas thinks I eat like a horse as I drown my worries in cheesy carbs and glean information from the conversations swirling around me.
Muttering in Kyran’s direction, Morana says, “Why can’t you put your phone away at the table?”
“Why can’t you mind your business?” he mutters back, eyes fixed on his device.
Maelin whispers, “Should I just change my shirt? I don’t want to get tomato sauce on it. I should probably at least wear an apron. Just in case.”
Amid the mostly amicable chatter, so long as we ignore Kyran and Morana’s bickering, Lukas cuts in like a bullet train, fixing his attention on Viktor to ask, “How much budget can I have for Clara?”
Viktor chokes on his bite of lasagna.
Once Zakery’s wife skitters off to presumably get an apron, Zakery smirks and sees fit to add fuel to the simmering chaos. “I had roughly thirty thousand for Maelin.”
My stomach drops out of my body.
He adds, “But she needed fancy sewing stuff.”
Lukas notes, “Clara needs fancy baking stuff.”
