Page 60 of Desserts for Stressed People

I dry the cup, then set it next to the others on the shelf, observing the shiny ceramics in a straight line. They’re all equally distant, with the holder to the right. White and squeaky clean. My hand reaches for one, but I hesitate. Instead, I grab the coffee pot and tilt it to the side, watching the hot liquid pour all over them.

I need something else to wash.

* * *

“What do you mean they met?”Emma’s voice blares through the phone.

Alex is still on the couch, focused on the TV, so I lean against the balcony railings and look down at the people and cars populating the street below.

“They met. I went to the square this morning and ran into Shane. He asked me out on a date, and I spilled a whole cup of coffee on his shirt. I invited him over to clean up and so that we could talk, when Alex came home. And they met.”

I’ve already told her all of this, and I don’t know if she’s not paying attention—I can hear her steps on the treadmill as she runs—or if she’s too shaken by the information to process it. “Oh, what a crapfest. How did Shane react?”

“Not well. He said nothing, of course, but he gave me a look.”

“An ‘I’ll win your heart over this idiot you’re dating’ look?”

I scoff and glance back at the apartment. Alex is typing on his phone.

“An ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend’ look. Or maybe a ‘you’re dead to me’ look.”

“You’re being dramatic. He’s your boss. You don’t have to disclose your relationship status with the entire office.”

Yes, he technically has no reason to be angry at me, but we’ve also been flirting for the past few weeks. I know it, he knows it, even Emma knows it.

“Plus, it’s not like you said yes. He can’t blame you for anything. Just explain the situation on Monday.”

I grab the watering can and open up the water pump, filling it. “And what should I tell him? ‘Oh, yeah. I have a boyfriend, but he’s cheating on me. I’m catfishing him to catch him in the act and as soon as I get my raise and can afford our rent alone I’ll be breaking up with him’?”

After a few beeps, I hear her sigh. “No, but maybe you can tell him that your boyfriend is a fuck trumpet, and you’re breaking up with him. And that’s why you didn’t immediately accept to go out for dinner with your super-hot boss.”

I close the water pump and rub two fingers over my eyes. She’s right, that’s the only thing I can say. Hopefully, he’ll listen.

When I make the mistake of telling her I almost had sex with Alex in a moment of weakness, I spend the next ten minutes receiving all sorts of insults and recommendations not to fall for it. Though I guess I deserve them. I water all my plants and take out some weeds that have grown out of the vases, then she makes me promise it’ll never happen again before we finally hang up.

I yank the door to the balcony close and enter the living room, and Alex’s face is still stuck to his phone. “Did my mom send you an email about the tax form?” he asks in a bored voice.

I’m about to answer when my own phone vibrates, and my heart sinks. There’s a notification from RadaR, and it’s not Shane. It’s Alex.

Alex:

When can I see your pussy?

I stare at the screen, unable to answer either Alex’s question or his text as the temperature of my body drops and little droplets of cold sweat accumulate over my forehead.

“Heaven?”

“No, she said she didn’t find the right one yet.” The words drag out of my mouth before he faces the TV with a, “Hm,” his phone still tight into his hands.

“Remind her next time you talk to her.”

“It’s your mom. Your tax returns.Youremind her.”

He twists on the couch, his lips pouting like I’ve offended him. “What’s your problem?”

My problem. He wants to know whatmyproblem is. “My job is to coordinate a million things, to make sure everything is taken care of at the office. I don’t want to do it at home as well.”

“Where is this coming from?” he asks as he stands.