My hand ditches the cupcake, and it sits there, unattended. “You’reJamesJames,” I say, a loose, accusatory finger pointed in his direction.
He leans closer with a tilted smile. “She talks about me?”
I nod, my lips twisting closed. A key twisting in a lock to secure a secret. “Something like that.”
His brow knits together as if he’s playing into my personal guessing game. “Should I be worried?”
“Worried about what?”
“About what she said,” he answers matter-of-factly.
It’s my turn to throw out an ambiguous shrug. “I don’t think so.”
“‘You don’t think so,’” he parrots. “Well, what did she say about me?”
Whatever negotiation we’ve attempted to draw up has rippled into other more important things. Like gossip and reputation.
“Just that you’re Tommy’s roommate,” I finally answer. “And…”
“And?”
“And that you have a very concerning obsession with homemade kombucha.”
“Kombucha.” His indignation cleaves its way through our repartee, and I can tell his priorities have shifted.
“Apparently it makes the apartment smell like vinegar,” I explain, “and it puts a damper on Sylvia and Tommy’s…sex life.”
“How so?” he demands. I start to feel a little culpable for the magnifying glass placed over his lifestyle choices, and I offer a rueful smile that teeters a little closer to amusement rather than compunction.
“It gives her a headache, so she can’t spend the night,” I confess, twisting my fingers in a knot. “And she might’ve mentioned that the scoby jars look like fermenting body parts.”
I don’t miss the grimace pinching his brows together. “So, I’ve become an unintentional cock block.”
“I’m afraid so,” I admit. I clamp my teeth over my bottom lip, hoping if I do so, I’ll stop making the poor guy feel bad.
“Sounds like something I should be worried about.”
“Probably.”
Just as we’re mulling over his newfound guilt and my inability to keep my mouth shut, the cupcake disappears right in front of our eyes. We see it enter the gaping mouth of another partygoer, and our sugar-filled dreams wither away into dust.
We face each other, our jaws a few inches closer to the floor than they were a second ago.
“I think it’s time you share your M&M’s.”
“Kendall!” An uncoordinated body stumbles into mine at the same time my name is mixed into the raucous chatter and upbeat pop music. Sylvia leans her wobbly head on my shoulder. “You met James!”
I purse my lips through an impish smile. “I did.”
“You know, heloveskombucha.”
“You don’t say.”
CHAPTER THREE
James
NOW
