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A look of resignation crosses David’s face as he slumps back into the couch, tipping his head back and groaning. “All right. I’m game. What am I cooking? Scrambled eggs?”
His tone is full of hope, but I giggle and shake my head. “Not that easy.”
He screws up his face at me. I pat his hand reassuringly. “I have to duck out and get some groceries for the recipe, and then you’re up.”
David grumbles, reaching out and swatting my ass as I stand up off the couch and sling the strap of my small purse over my head. I poke my tongue out at him, which has him grinning as I slide out the door, promising to return soon to start his “test”. David flips me off with a smirk as I close the door behind me, skipping along to the elevator. Oh, this is going to be so. Much. Fun.
David
Ani has gone for groceries. She wants me to help her cook dinner tonight. Something about seeing how I do under pressure. There’s going to be pressure. I have no idea how to cook. I never learned. Why would I when I live in New York City? If I get hungry, I go out or I order in. Before Ani came to stay, I’m pretty sure my stove never even got turned on.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, I frown at the various cabinets that I have never opened. I’m pretty sure that when I bought this place and got an interior designer to kit it out, they stocked the kitchen with cooking things. I mean, Ani seems to have found plenty to use when she cooks in here. My eyes sweep the countertop. The one thing I know about cooking is that you need an empty countertop to do it. I should probably move everything non-cooking related off it. I move my phone and Ani’s black leather purse that she takes into the office over to the dining table and come back for her iPad. When I pick it up, my thumb presses half against the home button, and the screen comes to life. It’s like I’ve been kicked in the gut, bile pooling in my stomach.
The reason for Ani’s insistence on making sure we don’t have a “romantic liaison” has become clear. I swallow down the bile that is now rising in my throat as I stare at her and some guy, heads pressed together, grinning out at me. The guy in the picture has his arm around Ani’s neck.
I’ve fucking followed her rules. It’s not like I’ve gone and fallen inlovewith her or any stupid shit like that. But I don’t like being blindsided, and I don’t like being used. And this is fucking both.
Angrily, I dump the iPad on the table, turning the screen off so that I don’t have to keep looking at the beaming couple andmove to quickly change into workout clothes. I head down to the basement gym to work out. Anything to take my mind off what I’ve discovered.
Eventually, my phone buzzes from the bench beside the boxing bag, where it’s lying on top of my towel. I glance over, but it’s Ani trying to call me. Probably to figure out where I am. I’ve been down here for a couple of hours, so no doubt she wants me to come back and start cooking for her bullshit experiment. Surely, she knows enough about my life to present a fucking design for Uncle Bill and the board to approve and she can fuck off back to Chicago to her boyfriend. And out of my fucking life.
I wince when I hit the bag harder than I intended to. My phone buzzes again and I glare angrily at it, huffing out a sigh and pulling off my gloves. Dumping them into the used gloves bin, I snatch up my phone, towel and water bottle and stalk back upstairs, my mood no better than it was when I came down here.
Ani is in the kitchen, surrounded by groceries when I storm in. She glances over, smiling at me, her face lighting up. She shouldn’t look so fucking happy to see me when she has a boyfriend. Wasn’t it her fucking rule that we have casual sex, no feelings involved?
“There you are. Wash up and we’ll get started.”
She’s talking like fucking nothing has happened. Ignoring her, I stalk into my bedroom to shower, my head full of bitter thoughts. I tip my head back, letting the water run over my face. It doesn’t help to chase away my anger. The woman isn’t exactly a cheating mastermind. What kind of idiot doesn’t even change the lock screen photo on their iPad when they’re having a fucking affair? My hand snaps out to shut off the faucet and Itowel myself down, tugging on some jeans and a polo shirt, and slowly making my way back out to the kitchen.
Ani is sitting at the breakfast bench, on her fucking iPad, scrolling through some document. I come to a stop in the kitchen, my hands shoved into my pockets, and raise my eyebrows imperiously at her. Ani grins up at me and gestures at the countertop. “I got out all the things you’ll need, and I have the recipe right here.”
She props her iPad up and spins it around on the breakfast bar so that I can read the fucking recipe. Silently, I move to cook. Ani keeps trying to make conversation and cracking little jokes. I glower and ignore her, trying to focus on not setting my fucking kitchen alight. Hell, I can’t even look at the woman right now without wanting to storm out. Ani eventually picks up on my sullen attitude, and she frowns at me, tipping her head to the side like a little bird. Trying to figure out what’s going on.
“You’re doing a pretty good job for someone who has never cooked before,” she tells me in an upbeat tone. Like she’s my own personal cheerleader or some shit like that. I shrug, squinting at the recipe. What the fuck issauté?
She tries a few more times to initiate conversation, but finally the woman takes the fucking hint. Sliding off her stool, she comes around into the kitchen, laying a hand on my arm.
“Hey, are you okay?” She blinks with surprise when I shake her hand off.
“Just cooking,” I snap back at her. She takes a step back. Still frowning.
“Look, maybe this was a bad idea. You’ve clearly been in a bad mood since you came back from your workout. We can try this another night.”
“Or we can get it done now. That way you can catalog it and you might finally finish your fucking design.”
Ani recoils from me, having the audacity to look fuckinghurt. “Just tell me what your problem is, and maybe you can finish being a world class jerk.”
“My problem?” I bark out a string of harsh laughter. I snatch up her iPad, turning it off, and bringing up the lock screen. Shoving it into her hands, she frowns down at the cozy picture of her and her boyfriend and looks back up at me. Ani doesn’t even look shamefaced. She looks fucking confused. The woman is a good actress. I’ll give her that.
“My problem is I don’t like being lied to. And I don’t like being used.”
Ani blinks, her eyes darting between her iPad and my face. Eventually, a look of anger settles over her face. Finally, we might be fucking getting somewhere here.
“Well,” she says carefully, her tone icy, “since I haven’t done either of those things to you, maybe you should check your attitude.”
I snort at her words. She’s going to brazen this one out, is she? We’ll see about that.
“I might be a lot of things that have you good mid-Western girls shocked,” I tell her while she blinks in shock, “but one thing I’m not is a snake in the grass.”
