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Dramatic? I should send her pictures of my next “sensitivity.”
Braxton: This isn’t funny. I’m not fuckin’ gluten intolerant.
Kat: Well, a few chocolate laxatives might’ve fallen into the mixture. Payback’s a bitch. ;)
I’m fuming.
I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her.
My gut told me so, and now my gut is paying for it.
Braxton: ARE YOU INSANE?! SERIOUSLY? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?
Kat: You’ll be fine within 48-72 hours. Trust me.
Braxton: 2-3 days? Are you CRAZY?
Kat: *Rolls eyes* Stop being a wuss.
Braxton: A wuss? Really?! WTF did I do to deserve this?
If I didn’t feel like crap right now, I’d drive down to her bakery and curse her out. This is childish. Ridiculous. The stupidest prank ever, and I don’t think it’s cute, at all.
Kat: You should know…calling gluten-intolerant eaters sensitive amongst the MANY other comments you threw at me about my pastries. Enough was enough, cowboy.
Braxton: Not sure if you realize this or not, but some people have to work for their money, Kat. We can’t be as spoiled as you and get everything handed to us. I can’t be out of work for days at a time. This is absolute bullshit.
I lash out at her, and when it takes her a while to respond, I almost apologize for that last text, but eventually, she does.
Kat: Okay, I’m really sorry.
Braxton: A little too late. But let me give you a warning…this isn’t over. Not in the least. You have no idea what you started because I don’t get back, Kat. I get even, and what’s going to happen to you will be next level. That’s a promise, sweetheart.
After I press send, I turn off my phone and am forced to rush to the bathroom. Again.
Chapter Seven
Kat
It’s been three days since Braxton last texted me, and I feel horrible about the whole situation. I knew it was stupid, but I wanted him to understand what gluten does to some people, which is exactly that. The prank came to me on a whim after he made a gluten-free joke about being sensitive, plus he’s been a grade A asshole to me for a while. I didn’t realize it’d make him that sick, or I wouldn’t have done it in the first place.
After I pour some homemade chicken noodle soup in a big Tupperware container, I call Mila.
“Hey, babe!” she answers, excitedly.
“Hey. So. Um. I have a question.”
I can hear the TV on in the background, and she mutes it. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Do you know where Braxton lives?” I ask.
It’s quiet for what feels like an eternity even though only a few seconds pass. “Yeah, over by the Millers’, just a few houses down. Jake built a farmhouse a few years ago on his parents’ property; you can’t miss it once you turn off 2129. Why?”
I knew she’d ask.
“Well…” I cringe as I tell her. “I made Braxton a muffin with laxatives, and he’s been sick for three days straight and—”
“You did what?” Her voice rises before she begins laughing.
“I know. I feel terrible about it, so I made him some soup. I want to call a truce.”
Mila is still laughing. “I don’t think there’s gonna be a truce, Kat. You’re screwed.”
“I know. But at least I can say I’m sorry in person.”
“So is this how the kids flirt these days?” she asks, and I can tell she’s still smiling.
I groan loudly. “It wasn’t flirting.”
“Oh, okay. Whatever you say. Hey, you wanna come over Saturday night? The boys are going out, and I wanna catch up.” She interrupts herself before I can respond. “John’s callin’, gotta go.”
“Yes, I’ll come over. And fine! Bye!” I tell her, and the call ends. She and John have one of those marriages people dream about, and I’m super happy for her, even after all these years.
Once I lock the bakery, I head toward Braxton’s house. I sent Presley a text earlier to see if he was back to work, and she told me no, so I know he’s home.
In his previous messages, he insinuated I don’t work for my money, which hurt, but I know it came from a place of anger. Just because my parents are well off doesn’t mean I’m handed everything, regardless of what people think. Instead of apologizing through a text again, the least I can do is bring him some hot soup and explain to him how sorry I am, though I’m willing to bet he’d throw it back at me.
As I drive there, my nerves are in overdrive, and all I can think about is my conversation with Mila. This is definitely not flirting. No. It was just a prank, and that’s all. Though when I think about him, my heart flutters, and that scares the shit outta me.
I turn off the highway and make my way down the gravel road, and as soon as the farmhouse comes into view, I know this is it. I park next to his truck and try to steady my breathing. I’m nervous because I’m not sure how he’ll react to me being here.
