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I slowly turn to Lucas, who swallows the last of his pancake. I stare at his plate. Before I can say anything, he stands up. “Delicious,” he says. “Thank you, dear.” And before I have a chance to realise what’s happening, he leans forward and presses a kiss on my forehead, and then he’s gone, taking the plate to the dishwasher.
I stare after him, mouth open and cheeks burning. “Y—you asshole.”
He laughs.
After I finish eating, I gather up mine and Cleo’s dishes and rinse them in the kitchen sink. Then I bring them to where Lucas loads the dishwasher. He’s crouched down, and it’s one of the few times I can see the top of his head.
“Hey, Lucas?”
“Yeah?” He takes the plates from me.
“Did you swap plates with me?”
He looks up and blinks. “Why would I do that?”
“Because mine were burned. And…”
Maybe you didn’t want me to eat the burned ones. Maybe because you felt guilty about me cooking them. Or maybe you’re just a little bit kind, deep down.
When I don’t say anything, he shakes his head and returns his focus to organising the interior of the dishwasher. “I swapped our plates because you kept all the big ones for yourself. Selfish bastard.” Despite the words, there’s no venom in his voice. And after a moment, I smile at the top of his head.
*
Days pass, and I’m busy with work and studying, especially as I’ve got a jam-packed weekend. On Thursday night, I’m celebrating my one-month anniversary with Cleo. Technically, it will be a day early, but on Friday, I’m driving home with Jemima, and that weekend I’ll spend back at home with my family, celebrating Mum’s birthday.
Late Thursday afternoon, Cleo sits on my bed, her cross-body bag in her lap.
“I’m so excited for dinner tonight,” she says. “I’ve never had Japanese before, but I’ve read online that it’s supposed to be really tasty. My friends said the atmosphere in the restaurant is really nice, too.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask as I dig through my closet. Behind my jackets, I’ve stored a little gift bag that contains Cleo’s present — the bracelet that I made. I turn around. “By the way,” I say, “I got you a gift.”
Her eyes go big, and she eagerly takes the gift bag from me. “Really? Oh, Charlie, you shouldn’t have.”
“It’s only something small, but I wanted to show you how much I care about you.”
“That’s so sweet.” Cleo reaches into the bag and pulls out the tiny, wrapped present. “It sounds like jewellery.”
“I made it,” I say as she peels back the paper. “I hope you like it. It’s not very fancy, but…”
I trail off, not sure what else to say while Cleo stares at the bracelet. She’s silent for a moment.
“Thank you, Charlie,” she says.
Fuck. She hates it.
“Do you not like it?” I ask, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
“No, it’s…did you say you made it?”
“Yeah. It came in a DIY set. I thought it would be nicer to make something personal, rather than just buying something…”
She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says after pulling away, returning the bracelet and its packaging back into the gift bag. “That’s so nice of you. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
“No, that’s okay,” I say with a wave. “I didn’t expect you to.”
She smiles.
I smile back, though it’s forced. Should I ask her to wear it? Or would that be pushing it? I thought that it’d be her style — I’ve noticed she wears silver jewellery, and the bracelet is silver too…
