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Normally, I'm quite introverted and prefer the solace of my own company to anyone else's, except when it comes to occasions like tonight. Dave is almost like a brother to me, and, to be fair, Mel is a great cook. I received an invitation for dinner from them both when they returned from their honeymoon in Cancun, and I felt obligated to accept, seeing as how I enjoy Dave's company more than anyone else’s and I didn’t have a chance to talk to them much at the wedding. I’d been so frustrated after an altercation with Daves's daughter Izzie that I'd left right after to go and catch some waves. I'd felt slightly guilty when I received and ignored a "Where R u.,en?” drunken text from Dave, and that's partly why I was bringing with me a bag of cupcakes from D&J. They were "I'm-sorry-for-leaving-your-wedding-early” cupcakes.
Finally, the traffic begins to move, and I check my watch. I’m still on time, I think in relief. I’m not one for tardiness; it’s a sign of improper time management and bad etiquette, in my opinion. I put the pedal to the metal and make my way to Dave and Mel's. They live on the outskirts of town, the opposite end to me, but in the quieter months, you could drive to and from our places in about 15 minutes.
When Dave and Mel started dating, I'd just made the decision to move back to Hoola Bay, and the two of them seemed inspired by that choice. They were both renting places anyway and wanted to settle somewhere a little quieter. Mel had grown up here too, and I lived here so Dave and I could still hang out; the decision to move here seemed obvious.
I'd lent them some money for the down payment, which took Dave a couple of months to accept, pride getting in his way. I assured him that I had plenty and that he would pay me back. In the end, he accepted, mostly because he was fed up with Mel whining about not being able to decorate a rented place.
When I pull up, I take a moment outside. I often feel a little nervous before social situations, which would probably surprise everyone around me since I know I come across as confident and assured. In reality, that is often a mask. I use my grumpiness to excuse my quietness and natural awkwardness.
Dave greets me at the door, pulling me in for a bear hug like before our big games. I lean into it; he is a great friend to me, but human contact didn't exactly come naturally to me.
The aromas of the house fill my nose, exciting me; it smells like Mel is cooking something Italian; I cross my fingers for spaghetti.
“Zak!” Mel greets me affectionately, pulling me in for a hug too. Two hugs in less than 2 minutes, my limit is being approached very quickly.
I try to pull away, but she holds me in for a second; sometimes, I wonder if her affection towards me is a little more than just friendly. I sometimes thought that I caught her staring at me longingly, but that could be my own narcissism talking. I’m not ignorant of the effect my looks have on women, though; it was something I have taken advantage of many times. But I don’t, however, want my best friend's new wife hitting on me.
"Go sit down, sweetie," she coos, ushering me into the dining area. I nearly stop in my tracks. Sitting at the table, wide-eyed, is Izzie - Dave's daughter and also the last woman I slept with. Shit. Dave didn't say she was here. A warning would've been nice. It would've given me time to fake an illness or perhaps the death of a distant relative.
Shit. There really is no getting out of this.
"Hello…Izzie, is it?" I tease; I can’t help it. I still can’t work out why she'd lied about her name. It seems sociopathic.
She clears her throat and gazes around, looking for Mel or Dave's listening ears. Satisfied that they aren’t around, she glares at me.
"You know it is," she seethes, "asshole.” Nice. Added for good measure.
I smile; I can’t help it. I smile more around her than any other human, I think.
I take a seat opposite her. She’s avoiding my gaze, so I take the chance to check her out. Her tanned shoulders peek out of her white tank top, the contrast making her look healthy and glowing. Her full breasts are visible beneath the top, the scooped neckline allowing access. Her hair is curled and fell around her face and –
"Hey!" She slaps my hand on the table. I look at it, shocked and surprised.
“You just hit me.”
“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you keep –“ quick check around the door. “If you keep ogling at me!”
I rub my hand. “That actually hurt a little.” I pout for good measure. I see her eyes flash with sympathy that is quickly replaced when she remembers why she hit me in the first place.
"Not my problem, keep your eyes up here" She uses two fingers to point to her eyes.
I follow her fingers and look into her bright blue orbs. I hold my hands up in surrender and lean across the table closer to her. She shifts back a little in her seat. A challenge. "Your call, Petal," I know she hates that nickname. "I'm equally happy to look into your beautiful eyes," I whisper seductively. Then lean back in my chair and stretch up, peeking over at her and feeling satisfied when I see her cheeks flaring up.
Her mouth opens, probably about to spurt out some smart-ass retort, when our little sparring match is interrupted by Dave entering the room and rubbing his hands together. "Sorry about that little delay there; I was just helping Mel with a few things in the kitchen. Izzie, you remember Zak from the wedding, right?" Izzie nodded. "Good, great. Family dinner!" Dave announces, smiling. It takes all my will not to cringe at that when I'd been shamelessly flirting with his daughter not one minute earlier. I'm seriously going to go to hell.
Mel and Dave bring in all the food, refusing any offers of help from me or Izzi. They set it down, and we begin to tuck into a family-style Italian feast. Mel had prepared lasagne, garlic bread, dough balls, and a variety of salads. She truly outdid herself, and I have a huge appetite, so I am eternally grateful. After being so strict with my diet for many years as a professional athlete, I am always so grateful to be served wholesome good, nutritious, but also delicious food.
Dave announces all of our thoughts. "Mel, my love, this is absolutely divine" Mel grins, replying that it was nothing, just something quick she put together. I'm pretty sure the lasagne sheets were homemade; this was far from quick.
Izzie grunts a sound of approval with food still in her mouth, and I chuckle. She looks up at me, finishes chewing her food, and asks: "What’s so funny, Zak?"
“Nothing.”
“Well, clearly not nothing seeing as you just laughed.”
"I just liked your little sound of agreement, that's all."
Izzie cocks her head. "What, am I supposed to not agree when my stepmother has slaved away cooking me some delicious food?"
