bake
Title/Prompt - Cupcakes & Cocktails, Chapter Three, Kristy (#74 - bake)
Author - oneoneohohone
Word count - 1983
Rating - pg-13
Summary - the idea machine can get rusty, sometimes.
Link to table - table 2
Author's note - i've had some complaints that kristy lamenting about being single in the prologue is ooc for her. (not here.) *I* don't think so, given her competitive nature, but felt the need to clear some stuff up. so, here's kristy, once again, rather quickly. the very beginning is a text message session. i figure, in this day and age, nobody writes letters or postcards anymore, so i can't justify the usual "beginning of a super special chapter" letter :P
i'm not sure how to format text messages... any suggestions?
read the rest:
prologue
chapter one
chapter two
Chapter Three
Kristy
D. M. - Hey! Charlotte asked me to be her date to Claudias wedding :)
You - u guys r dating???
D.M. - I don’t know, we were talking @ the store and she just asked if I’d go w/her
You - wow. U said yes? R u going 2 brunch 2?
D.M. - Cant got a paper. You think she likes me?
I gazed at my phone. Of course Charlotte liked David Michael. I may not be educated in the ways of boys and girls, but I do know that Charlotte Johanssen is pretty shy, and that a girl doesn’t just ask any guy to a wedding, especially if she’s a bridesmaid. I was happy for my brother. He’s twenty-one years old now, and he rarely dates, he’s thrown himself into school so much.
Of course, that was yet another person with a date. Last in the BSC to be committed, last person on earth without a date. Yikes.
Well, maybe not. I bet Dawn will be going alone.
I frowned, at myself and my phone. That was an insensitive thought. I’d better be careful around Dawn. Mary Anne told me she’s moving back to Stoneybrook, and I don’t want my stupid mouth making Dawn cry.
I texted David Michael back a “Y,” and, as I hit send, my roommate Evan shouted from the kitchen.
“Pastries, Kristy!”
I bolted from my room, forgetting the wedding. Johnny, my rescue mutt, skidded behind me on the wood floor. “On my way!” I shouted. Ah, food. I do love food. Especially Evan’s food. He’s been baking for hours.
Johnny and I ran into the kitchen, and David pointed to a plate, not looking away from the bag he was squeezing. “Chocolate eclairs.” He said. Evan is tall, about six foot two, with very short brown hair and warm brown eyes. He was wearing a blue apron covered in flour, jeans, and a black t-shirt. We’re practically identical, except I don’t do aprons. Or cooking, really.
I grabbed an eclair and stuffed it into my mouth. “Ohm eye gob!” I moaned, settling into a chair. “Ahts uhmmetez.”
“Thanks.” He said, finishing the pastry he was working on and smiling. I didn’t need to translate. He’d learned Kristy’s full mouth speech over the years. (By the way, I said “Oh my God, that’s amazing.” in case you didn’t catch it.)
I swallowed and cleared my throat.
Evan continued his work.
“AHEM.” I repeated loudly.
“Whatever it is, just say it.” He replied casually.
“Well... my brother just texted me that he has a date to the wedding.”
Evan continued working.
“My little brother.” I went on, scratching Johnny’s head. “Six years younger.”
Evan raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up.
“I don’t have a date.”
“Why don’t you just go alone?” He asked. (He still didn’t look up.)
“Everyone else has a date! Every one of my friends in the BSC is married or is getting married. One’s already getting a divorce for god’s sake!” I exclaimed, stuffing another eclair in my mouth.
“You should ask Peter.”
“Peter!” I nearly choked. “That douche? He told me he wanted to buy me implants!”
“You could use them.” Evan replied, not missing a beat. That’s what I love about Evan, he’s not afraid to joke with me.
“Shut up.” I replied, flicking a bit of cream at him. “So anyway, I’m all, like... well, I was the president, okay? And here I am, all...”
“Old and lonely?” Evan contributed.
“It’s just not how I saw myself!” I burst out. “I saw myself having a picket fence, two kids, a dog, a CEO job while my husband stayed at home and coached little league.” I laughed. “Well, maybe not that specific. But, really, I’m not what I thought I would be. I’m in this crappy job, no kids even though kids used to be my LIFE, sure I’ve got Johnny...” I trailed off, patting his head. Didn’t want him to feel left out. “I’m single. You know, even though I was a little awkward, when it came to guys, there were always a few around. Boyfriends and stuff. I always had someone to go to the dances with.” I thought of Bart Taylor, whom I hadn’t even spoken to in years.
“Didn’t you say the first guy you dated ended up with Claudia?”
“EXACTLY!” I exploded. “Guys liked me because I was sporty. I could talk stats, throw a ball, and I could clean up and be pretty when necessary. I never did the drama crap, was always straightforward...” I sighed. “Too straightforward, for most.”
“Do you have a point or are you just going to keep whining like a teenage girl? I have cookies to bake, too, you know.”
Mmm, cookies. Evan bakes great cookies. “Shut up! I’m getting to it. All I’m saying is... I don’t want to be Kristy, the one who can’t keep a guy because of her mouth. Again. I’m the last single one in the group. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Plenty of perfectly normal people are single at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, Kristy. Look at me.”
And the gears began to turn.
“I don’t want them to see me as a failure.” I said carefully. “I was their leader.” my mind was working around an idea. The BSC, my family, the old charges, I’m pretty sure they all knew that I was stuck in Boston in a dead end job, no life. I’ve never kept that a secret.
But what if...
“What if you were my date?” I asked, feeling wild. “What if you and I have been together this whole time, and we’re planning to get married?”
Evan finally looked up. “You’re nuts.”
“Hear me out!” I cried, thinking ferociously. “What if... what if Claudia isn’t the only one with this big surprise? What if I had one, too? That all along, even thought they thought I was stuck and driving away men with my big mouth, I was with you?”
Evan shook his head. “This sounds like the plot to a bad RomCom. Have you been watching chick flicks again? Jennifer Aniston?”
“No.”
“Kate Hudson?”
“No!”
Evan clucked his tongue. “I knew it. Kathrine Heigl.”
My face reddened. Okay, so I’d ordered a couple of her movies on Netflix last night - so what? I like her. She’s awkward, funny, sporty...
“Kristy!!! Life does not work out like those stupid movies!” Evan exclaimed, laughing.
“But our lives...” I tried to find a way to say it. “Our lives sometimes did, okay? We had so much fun, romance, drama, mysteries... our lives were like movies when we were kids! This isn’t so far fetched! Everyone is already convinced that we’re either in love or one of us is gay, we’ve been living together so long.”
Evan looked down at the eclairs, his apron. “I don’t have good enough hygiene to be gay. Didn’t even wash my hands before I started making these.”
I choked on the third eclair I was eating. “Well no girl would put up with me.” I said, laughing.
“Neither would any guy, apparently”
“JUST LISTEN!”
“Look, Kristy, I’ll do whatever you want. But I gotta tell you, every RomCom I’ve ever seen ends with the two people who actually hate each other that are pretending they love each other having sex, usually drunk but always mutual, and then there’s some big revelation, then they hate each other again, then there’s a misery montage with some Macy Gray music, and then they make up with some big speech in front of at least 100 people.” Evan wiped his hands on his apron, and despite his earlier claim, began to wash them.
I was laughing “So?”
“So can we just skip to the sex part?” He asked, grinning mischievously.
Very calmly, I stood, walked around the counter, and punched him in the stomach. He dropped to his knees, gasping
“No wonder you’re single!” He groaned, trying to stand up.
***
Later, I was laying on my bed, the smell of cookies baking in the air, a plate of eclairs on my night stand, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. What did I care that I was the last of my friends to get married? Why did I suddenly feel as if I had something to prove?
That was simple enough, I guess. I love to compete. And I hate to be last at anything.
I lamented, missing being a kid. I’d never cared about boys, back then, and they’d been around. Now that I’m an adult, my so-called biological clock is going haywire, and I haven’t been on a date in nearly a year. Haven’t even been asked. Haven’t found anyone I’ve wanted to ask, myself. And sex? Ugh, I didn’t even want to think about sex. When I find a guy attractive, I tend to be loud, obnoxious, and forward. A lot of men can’t handle that, for some reason. Guys like to feel powerful, feel like they’re overcoming some obstacle getting a girl to sleep with them. Me, when I’m ready, I’ll say so. Why play games? Why be coy? Why can’t any man on this planet handle that?
I’m a failure at relationships.
I bit into another eclair thoughtfully. I guess that was it. I see myself as a failure in that area, so I want to prove I’m not. But I’ve gotten so sick of failing, rejection, that I’ve kind of given up. So why not fake it? Fake it, and nobody gets hurt. Like I’d told Evan, all of my friends think we’re in love, anyway. Why not play into it? Why not give them what they want?
Evan had actually been in a long-term relationship when we’d met, and when he moved in with me it was because she’d broken up with him and thrown him out. He’d been devastated, sworn off women forever. That, of course, was four years ago, and he’s dated several times since, but he’s pretty much the same as me. Drives them away with his big mouth.
This is why everyone (and by everyone, I pretty much just mean Mary Anne, and my little sisters Karen and Emily, all three hopeless romantics in my life.) has this idea that Evan and I are secretly in love. I’ve burst their bubbles, separately and together, on several different occasions, but they persist. My other friends, the other girls in the BSC, sometimes comment on the situation, as well. They usually go the other route, that one of us is gay if we’re not together. My friends, even my family, all think Evan and I are the perfect couple.
So why not give them what they want? I mean, Evan and I live together anyway. If I told everyone we were engaged, to shut them up, what would it hurt? Engagements can last a long time. Look at Mal and her fiancee, whatever his name is. He’s got long hair and big plugs in his ears. I’ve only met him once.
I laughed to myself, feeding Johnny a bit of eclair. He smiled at me. I was being so silly. Lie to my entire family, all of my friends? What was I, crazy?
I would bring Evan to the wedding, and probably the brunch. Just like I brought him to everything. But I couldn’t pull that off, lying to everyone. It was stupid. What do I care, if I’m the last BSC member to commit? What does it matter?
“I was just being silly.” I told Johnny. He inched his was closer and licked my face. “I don’t really care. At least I have you, boy.”
I took a bite off of another eclair, and gave him half. He wolfed it down, grinning and wagging his tail.
Who needs men, with dogs like Johnny and a roommate that bakes?