Page 26

Lilly

“Whose intervention is this?” Payton laughs as she takes a seat at the table beside me.

“God knows.” Nina shrugs.

Callie texted the group chat about an hour ago and told us she wanted us all in the kitchen by six. After bumping into Greyson and Chase at the hospital, she drove me home and told me she wanted to drive around alone to clear her mind.

After two years of being her best friend, I knew what Chase said to her had struck a nerve, and I’m surprised she didn’t punch him in the face. So, I totally understood why she wanted to be alone.

What she’s got to understand however is there’s people—her friends, family…we’re all here to be a shoulder to lean on. But the thing is, Callie’s the sort of person who prefers keeping her feelings and emotions hidden. She believes there’s no point burdening others with her problems when she can just deal with them herself.

“It kinda does feel like an intervention, doesn’t it.” I laugh.

“Because it is.” Callie walks into the kitchen with several bags in her hands.

“Whatever happened, I didn’t do it,” Payton holds her hands up in defense. “The vase was old and—”

“What the fuck are you—” cutting herself off, Callie walks over to the sink and opens the cupboard below it. Peering inside, she curses. “You broke my vase, didn’t you?”

“Pfft, no .” Payton scoffs.

Extending to her full height, she turns and raises a brow. “ Payton …”

“Okay, it was an accident!” She says, sitting straighter. “I needed one of those scrubby things, and I accidently knocked it.”

“Grandma got me that,” Callie’s lip pouts out, and her eyes glisten with tears. “You know how much I loved that vase.”

Payton bursts out laughing, smacking her hand down on the table for further emphasis. “You got it at the thrift store because you said it looked like a deformed penis.”

“You’re telling me that I’ve been putting my flowers into a deformed penis vase?” Nina gasps.

It’s always been on our kitchen table, even without flowers in it. And if Payton didn’t mention that it looked like a deformed penis, I wouldn’t have even noticed. I thought it was a unique looking vase, one someone had fucked up and decided to sell cheap. And now the truth is out in the open, I can’t help but laugh at the number of times we’ve had guests over, who no doubt saw the vase, and silently judged us for it.

“Anyway, what’s in the bags?” Nina asks, peering down at them.

“Oh,” grinning, Callie grabs one of the bags and tips it upside down on the table. “Apr ons.”

Looking at the aprons cascading down on the table, I furrow my brows. “Aprons?” I ask.

“Precisely,” picking up the aprons from the table, she hands them to us, one by one. “I’m gonna to teach you all how to cook.”

Snorting, Payton looks down at the apron, then to her. “You want the three of us to collectively burn the house down?”

Giving her a deadpan look, she bends down and places the other bags on the table. “And these are the ingredients to make my grandma’s meatballs.”

“Wait, Callie…” Nina blinks, staring down at her apron. “Did you get this custom made?”

“Do you like it?” She smirks.

Looking down at her apron, Nina clears her throat as she tells us what’s written there. “I can’t cook, but replace the second o with a c and I know what I’m doing—what the fuck?”

She didn’t…leaning across the table, I burst out laughing as I take in the apron.

“What does both of yours say?” Nina questions Payton and me.

Looking down, I read the words. “Popcorn mad, but kinky corn is my favorite…what does that even mean?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing as I try and figure it out.

“Corn… porn .” Callie winks.

God. Help me . Since telling her how traumatized I was with the books she’d given me—something I wish I didn’t even mention to her—she’s been relentlessly sending me porn videos that are worse than the books. And not once have I opened any of the links. I’ve not even been tempted .

I’m not going to judge someone who has different sexual desires to me, but no way in hell would getting tied up like a rotisserie chicken turn me on.

“Mine says…” eyes widening, Payton looks between the apron and Callie. “You didn’t.”

Grinning, Callie places a hand on her hip. “Totally did.”

“What does it say?” I ask, peering over.

But once I see the mountain of words written down the front of the apron, my eyebrows scrunch together.

“I know you would’ve refused to wear anything sexual related, so I chose the next best thing.” Callie grins.

“I’m really confused…” Nina voices what I’m thinking.

With her cheeks flushed, Payton brings her hands to her face and cowers away. “It’s my valedictorian speech that I was certain I threw away after graduation.”

“Oh, come on…you seriously think your mom didn’t pick it straight out of the trash after you threw it in there?” Callie raises a brow.

Grabbing the apron from her hand, I lay it flat on the table and read what it says.

“Who’s Mr. Tiddles?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

“Our neighbors cat.” Callie snorts.

“You…” not being able to hold my laughter in, I glance to Payton. “You thanked Mr. Tiddles— who’s a cat! For being the most supportive.”

Her cheeks are redder than a tomato as she pulls her hands away from her face. “He was a cute cat,” she grumbles. “And he helped me through a l ot during senior year.”

“But he’s a cat.” Nina laughs.

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing!” Snatching the apron off the table, she scrunches it up in her lap. “Can we just cook, or whatever.”

Laughing, Callie leans forward and empties the remaining bags onto the table. I look around at all the ingredients and instantly groan. I fucking burn toast, who does that? So, how is she expecting the three of us—who are all collectively shit in the kitchen—to make her grandma’s famous meatball recipe?

“Where’s the pasta?” Nina asks, pushing around the groceries.

“We’re making it.” Callie says.

“Like from scratch?” Her eyes widen.

“Don’t look so horrified,” leaning across the table, she picks up the flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt, pushing it in a pile in front of Nina. “It’s literally four ingredients, you can’t fuck it up.”

“Trust me, we’re gonna fuck something up.” Payton grumbles.

“At least you can say you tried,” Callie shrugs. “And if it doesn’t go to plan, we always have Prims on speed dial.”

“Or you could cook Grandma’s meatball recipe, and the three of us can observe.” Payton suggests.

Rolling her eyes, she walks out of the kitchen. “I’m going to get my pajamas on, and when I come back, we’re all making the recipe…capiche?”

“Can’t wait.” Payton sarcastically smiles.

Once Callie leaves the kitchen, I turn my attention to Payton. “Mr. Tiddles, huh?” I bite my lip, trying to hold in the laughter.

“Stop!” She groans. “I can’t believe my mom took that speech out of the trash. ”

“Hey, do you think her mom also videoed it?” Nina teases. “Because I’d love to hear the speech— especially the part about Mr. Tiddles.”

“I fucking hate you both.” She slouches down into her chair and hides her face.