Sugary Confession
Chapter twenty-one
Aurora Driscoll
I stare at the fresh-out-of-the-oven cinnamon roll in front of me.
Cream cheese frosting drips down the swirl of pastry.
To the right of the plate is an iced coffee with cold foam and caramel drizzle, all made from scratch by Jasmine.
She presented the treat to each of us roommates after we finished devouring the mushroom-and-Swiss omelets she whipped up for breakfast. It was hard enough to eat the first part of breakfast with how full of secrets I am.
Jasmine shows her love through food, so this plate is a depiction of how much she cares about me.
I feel like I’m gonna be sick if I don’t tell them what’s going on.
“I went to the Shadow Ring with Hayes on Friday night,” I blurt out.
Saylor freezes, a forkful of cinnamon roll poised in front of her gaping mouth.
Marigold’s bleary eyes widen over the rim of her giant coffee mug.
Jasmine hovers over the pillow she was about to sit on.
On Sundays, if everyone is free, we try to eat breakfast around our little coffee table.
Saylor clears off her collection of highlighters, Marigold puts away her laptop, and we scrunch around the low tabletop to eat.
Usually, it’s quiet, the silence broken by the occasional hum of appreciation for Jasmine’s food.
Once everyone is fed and caffeinated, conversation about our week ensues.
I broke tradition, and it’s noticeable.
“Afterward, I texted my mom a picture of us, and of course she called.” I squeeze my eyes shut to block out their dumbfounded expressions. “Hayes talked to her. And got tricked into a Sunday dinner. We go to their house tonight. And I-I’m—”
“You’re freaking out,” Marigold murmurs.
I cut a glare in her direction. Jasmine leans over and flicks her in between her eyebrows.
“Ow!” Marigold exclaims.
“That was not helpful,” Jasmine scolds, then looks at me. “How are you feeling?”
I cross my arms over my chest and grumble, “I’m freaking out.”
Marigold gives Jasmine an I told you so look that earns her another forehead flick. She bats Jasmine’s hand away.
“Quit that!”
“How was the Shadow Ring?” Saylor asks over Jasmine and Marigold’s bickering.
I shrug. “It was fine. Hayes won. We left after.”
I don’t mention the deal we made. I can’t handle that on top of going to my parents’ house tonight. That problem has been tucked into a manila folder and placed in a box on a tall, far-away shelf marked later.
“Why didn’t you invite me?” Saylor pouts.
“It was past your bedtime,” I reply wryly.
She scoffs and takes an aggressive bite of her cinnamon roll.
“Are you worried something will go wrong tonight?” Jasmine asks once she’s through fending off Marigold’s retaliation. She brushes back her dark curls, which have started to spring out of the messy bun she’s shoved them into.
“I don’t know.” I twist my plate, focusing on the uneaten dessert.
“Can I talk, or am I going to be hit?” Marigold sasses.
“If you’re encouraging,” Jasmine replies.
“Just be honest,” I say, countering Jasmine’s words.
Marigold may despise Hayes, so that colors her judgment some, but I know she’ll always be straightforward with me.
She takes a sip of her coffee, then levels me with her too-observant gaze. That’s the thing about being friends with a writer. They always see too much.
“Are you afraid of something going wrong or of it going right?” She plucks my fear from the place I buried it and dusts it off for everyone to see, like an archaeologist with a fossil. “If your family loves him, you have to deal with that when it’s all over.”
The living room falls silent. I pull my knees up to my chest and set my chin on top of them.
“I don’t like lying to them,” I mumble. “But I’m so tired of the constant pushing. I love them, I just need a break.”
It’s hard to say the words out loud. Each of my friends has some sort of difficulty involving family.
Jasmine lost both of her parents a few years ago.
Marigold’s mom is the worst. Saylor’s dad abandoned her family when she was young.
Talking about my family problems, when they’re really just based on them caring too much feels … childish.
“Have you thought of telling them how much it bothers you?” Jasmine asks in a gentle tone.
I shake my head. “I’m being ridiculous. They just want what’s best for me. There’s no reason to ask them to pull back because it’s a little frustrating.”
Jasmine looks like she wants to say more but is conflicted.
“So … what about Hayes?” Marigold asks. “If you’re not going to tell your parents, are you sticking with tonight’s plan?”
My lips turn down. “I guess so.”
“Maybe they’ll hate him,” Marigold offers.
I snort at her version of helping.
“Maybe. But that won’t help the whole avoiding blind dates that my mother organizes situation.”
“Sounds like you’re caught between Scylla and Charybdis,” Marigold remarks before taking a big bite of cinnamon roll. I stare at her. “A rock and a hard place.” She clarifies her literary reference while chewing.
“Yeah, I guess I am.” I poke my cinnamon roll with the prongs of my fork, feeling only marginally better after telling them what’s going on.
“Can I see the photo?” Saylor asks after a beat of silence.
Jasmine and Marigold both shoot her looks.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re not curious,” she defends, then gives me puppy dog eyes. “Pleaseeee.”
I heave a sigh and grab my phone from my lap, pulling up the photo and holding my phone out to her.
Saylor eats the bite of cinnamon roll she had on her fork, then reaches for the device like a toddler reaching for a lollipop.
She sucks in a breath through her nose and squeals with her mouth closed when her eyes land on the photo.
Marigold and Jasmine cast aside their judgy looks from before and lean over to see. Both of their eyes get as wide as the cinnamon roll on my plate.
“You two are the cutest couple to ever exist,” Saylor gushes after she finishes chewing. “Can I frame this?”
I frown and take my phone back. “No. It was fake. We’re not a real couple.”
“I hate to say it, but she’s right. He looks like a lovesick fool and you …” Marigold trails off. “Look like you more than tolerate him.”
Her words make me stiffen.
“You let him kiss you,” Jasmine emphasizes.
I shake my head rapidly. “That was barely a kiss. We haven’t kissed. It doesn’t count.”
I’m doing a poor job of convincing anyone at this table with my words. Including myself. Heat crawls up my neck to my face.
“His lips touched you,” Saylor says like she’s in awe. “That counts.”
“I think we should be done with this topic.” I pull my cinnamon roll closer to me. “Let’s get back to eating in silence.”
“You don’t want to talk more about tonight?” Jasmine asks. “Go over a plan or anything?”
“Nope,” I reply, and pick up the giant cinnamon roll with my hand instead of a fork. “It’s someone else’s turn in the spotlight.” I take a big bite to avoid answering any follow-up questions.
Thankfully, the girls move on quickly after a few shared glances. Saylor regales us about her latest dating-app horror story, and I make a valiant effort to drown my anxiety in sugar. It doesn’t work, but at least it’s delicious.