When Deliveries Are Delicious
Back at home in my room, I call Becca.
“What was I thinking kissing Hunter like that? He pretended he was going to screw me over to his friends. He caused all this. Why would I even consider getting back with him?” I pause, play with the string of my workout pants. “Becca.” I stop, then say, “Why did I let him kiss me?”
“Hormones. My love, you weren’t thinking. His hot-guy bod was right in front of you, with those sumptuous lips of his. And boy, hot damn, is that boy hot. I can’t say I blame you at all, especially if he was doing heavy apologizing like you said he was. Guy clearly likes you, my dear little hottie.”
“Ugh, right, this is true. Boy makes me weak. Like, wicked weak. But … I’m done with him. Now. I’m. Done. Period.”
We hang up after I’m done raving and self-hating, and she’s pumped me back up a bit. I start in on homework, but I can’t concentrate at all. I pet Maxie, who is lounging on my bed like the true slug he is. I nuzzle him and give him a kiss.
“Well, Maxie, maybe I should eat something.” I make the trek to the kitchen. Exerting even this much effort feels like I’m walking across the desert.
I creep into the kitchen. I am alone in the house, so I don’t know why I’m being so secretive. As I’m opening the fridge, the I’m-not-hungry feeling hits me like a blast of biting below-zero January Minnesota wind when you open the door to go outside. I’m dread-filled like when I don’t want to leave my safe, warm zone inside the house, but I must go out. No choice. I push forward, reach into the fridge—hand shaking—move the pickle jar, and grab a yogurt. I polish it off in twenty seconds flat. Then I snag an apple, because something to-go to get me out of this kitchen seems like the safest bet. I literally run to my room so no one comes home and catches me in the kitchen. How is one’s own kitchen so scary? I’m such a freak.
Inside my room, I slump against the closed door, sliding down to the ground. I stare at the apple, half expecting myself to hurl it across the room, but then I take a bite.
In the morning, I text Hunter.
Allandra: Please stay away from me today. I can’t do this with you, Hunter. I am very sorry.
There. Now he won’t come plant his tempting lips on mine and spiral me back down to wanting him again. Well, he doesn’t really need to do anything for that—it just happens—but I can’t handle his body so close to mine. I cave.
At school, I don’t see Brian anywhere. In fact, it appears he’s gone for the whole day, because he isn’t even in class. Hunter ignores me every time we are near. I try to avoid looking him in the eyes, but I still watch him walk away from me down the hall, joking with his friends. Part of me thinks his friends are the ones who posted the vote about me. His buns look so hot in those jeans. Like something fierce.
Oh, good gracious, I need help.
I’m already missing him as I watch him saunter out of sight. Oh, for the ever-loving crap. I just need to stop.
Christine and the girls arrive at our house before Dad and Jackson come home. She has a giant meal planned for Dad’s birthday today. She got special permission from the girls’ father to have them an extra evening so we could all celebrate with Dad. Christine busies herself in the kitchen, and I play spoons with the girls in the living room. I lose every stinking time—I’m so distracted by thoughts of all these boys in my life.
Dad bursts through the door, and he is all smiles. “Smells amazing in here,” he says very loudly. I roll my eyes. So obvious, Dad.
Christine appears and says, “Good. I hope so.” They hug and kiss. I try not to look, because—ew. But there is also something satisfying about seeing that look on my dad’s face. It’s like warm butter on toast, if you like that sort of thing.
“Ha, I missed it again,” I say as Lauren gets the last spoon. I throw my hands in the air, and she giggles.
Jackson walks into the house and sighs. “Ah, I love coming home to these smells.” He is grinning so big. “A guy can get used to this. I am so ready to eat.”
“Jackson!” Karen squeals and runs to hug him. She’s become a bit obsessed with him.
“Hi, sweetie,” he says as he gives her a hug.
Lauren goes to him too, but with a little less running. He gives her a hug while still hugging Karen, and he jiggles them, making them giggle and squeal.
“Will you play spoons with us, Jackson?” Karen asks, looking up at him.
“Sure, I’ll play.”
“Yay!” she says with a hand-flick of her golden locks.
So, we play spoons. The four of us. For three whole rounds. I don’t remember the last time I played a game with Jackson. It’s been probably four years. Maybe more. It almost feels foreign to hang out in my own living room with Dad sitting on the couch with a beer and Jackson sitting across from me. Having Christine and the girls here has brought the three of us out of our rooms more. And I like it.
The doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” Lauren says as she pops up to stand. She opens the door and looks around. “Hello?” She bends down to pick something up. The couch is blocking her, so I can’t see what she picks up. She closes the door.
“Who was it?” I ask.
“No one was there. But there was a delivery.” She is carrying a shiny red box topped with a big white bow. A cellophane window showcases what looks like a pie inside. Maybe it’s a gift for Dad’s birthday. “Wow. Pie. In a really pretty box. And an envelope. To: Allandra, From: Brian.”
I smile, shocked as shit. Oh, I’m a lucky girl. Something edges into my heart … just something, and somehow, I’m letting it all in.
Dad walks over to see what it is. “Brian?” Dad cocks his head, turns to me, and says, “I thought the boy’s name you went on a date with was Hunter, not Brian.” Ugh, Dad, come on.
Jackson says, “Not Hunter—definitely not Hunter. He’s old news.” He looks at me with wide eyes, followed by the look. I’m sure he heard about my kiss with Hunter, ’cause everyone is talking about us these days. I don’t even want to check social media because I’m sure our kiss is plastered everywhere on it.
I nod my head as I look Jackson in the eye.
He nods back with a small, approving smile.
“Oh, boy. I can’t keep up these days,” Dad says with a chuckle. “I think I’m in trouble now. I have a teenage daughter who is dating.” He sighs. “I’m clueless—I’m just the dad. That’s all.”
Lauren giggles as she hands me the envelope.
My smile is giant. My eyes widen as I take the envelope gently. It might break, or I might break it with how I’ve been stomping on Brian’s heart lately. I so need to work on being more delicate.
Karen whistles through her teeth.
Christine has joined Dad on the couch, wine glass in hand. She just smiles. Then says, “I really like a boy who bakes for a girl.”
“Oh?” I hear Dad say as I’m still staring at the envelope with Brian’s handwriting on it. “Maybe I need to try making a pie.”
Dad making a pie—that’s a good one.
I run down to my room with the envelope, still carrying it gingerly. Hands shaking, heart thudding, I slip my finger under the flap to open the envelope.
Dear beautiful and deserving of all the best of everything, stunning, sexier than any girl I’ve ever seen in real life, including on screen, cherished Queen Allandra,
I am so very sorry I threw the pie away in the garbage can by your locker. I was an idiot, and that was very immature of me. Stupid MF. Moron. Call me it all. I deserve it. I don’t mind—call me what you want, because it was very dumb of me. Please forgive me and enjoy this pie in its place. IF you tell me you ate a piece of pie in your bed, I will love you forever. Awaiting your text with bated breath.
Yours truly, your personal chef and hopefully future lover boy,
Brian
I smile and laugh out loud, hold the letter to my breasts. Wow. He doesn’t hate me, though I don’t even really deserve him—I’ve been so cruel. Yet he still did this. He made a pie and ding-dong ditched me, leaving his creation and a love note. A very flattering love note.
I pull out my phone from my pocket and text Brian, my heart pounding practically out of my chest.
Allandra: Thank you for the pie & I loved your note. Thank you so much. U flatter me. I will try the pie soon, promise. In my room now.
He texts back immediately.
Brian: Well, as long as you are in your bed, that still counts.
I climb into my bed.
Allandra: I’m in my bed and it’s lovely and comfy & lonely …
I cannot believe I just sent him that.
Brian: Nice. Think your dad would mind if I climbed in your window.
I laugh out loud.
Allandra: LOL. Oh, please do.
Brian: I’m kidding. I’m back home. But that could happen another day.
I smile and laugh.
Allandra: I’d let U in.
Brian: You would?
Allandra: Yes.
Brian: Awesome.
I text him again.
Allandra: Why weren’t you at school today?
Brian: I needed a mental health day. And a day to make you a new pie.
Allandra: I’m glad you did.
Brian: Me too. Now go eat.
I text him a smiley face and a thumbs-up.
There is a knock at my door. “Allandra,” Dad says. “You coming out? Every one of us is dying to try this pie left by a boy.”
“OK. I’m coming.”
I text Brian.
Allandra: Everyone wants to try your pie. They are all asking me to come eat so they can eat.
Brian: Please do. Hop to it. And text me your review. I’m dying to know.
Allandra: Will do.
I can’t stop grinning as I walk into the kitchen.
“OK, she’s here. Let’s eat,” Lauren says.
Christine cuts us each a piece. “This is gorgeous.” She hands me the first piece. “You have the first taste, since it was delivered in your honor.”
I take the plate. “Thank you.” It is a very pretty piece of pie.
“My pleasure.” She doles out slices to everyone.
I take a bite. I pause and savor it on my tongue. Seriously, it’s the best pie I’ve ever eaten in my life. Not that I’ve eaten that many pies, but I see everyone agrees, with many moans as they eat their slices.
“This—this is amazing.” Christine points her fork at the piece of pie. “I wonder what he used for the crust.” She takes another bite. “I’ve been making pies for years. This boy has got talent. He’s a keeper, Landra.” She smiles.
I smile back. “Yes, he does have talent.” He can get me to enjoy food—that means he’s got mountains of talent. “So good,” I say. I dive my fork in again. Eat the whole piece. Not a quarter, not half—the whole piece. And it’s amazing.
“Pie before dinner. Will anyone even want dinner now?” Christine asks.
“Yes,” Jackson says. “I do.”
“For sure,” Dad says. His face has been stretched in a smile since he got home.
“OK, well, maybe I’ll just delay it a little bit to help us wear off this pie appetizer.” She stands up. “Wow, that pie was so good. So delicious. I may have to ask him for that recipe. You’ll have to tell him so, Landra.”
“Oh, I will. That’s for sure.” I smile.
Both Lauren and Karen giggle, so I beam my smile at them.
I get a text from Brian.
Brian: Well?
I walk across the kitchen staring at his one-word text as the girls giggle some more.
“Ooh, must be him,” Lauren says with a clap.
“I sure wish I knew what happened. A few days ago, the talk was Hunter, and now there’s this Brian,” Dad says, shaking his head.
I just give him a smile as I leave the kitchen.
I sit on my bed and text Brian back.
Allandra: Utterly divine. You outdid yourself. Amazing.
Brian: Oh, so happy to hear it. I spent most of the day on it.
Allandra: I can tell. You are super talented. Even my dad’s girlfriend said so and she’s an amazing cook who has been cooking for years and years. Seriously, she was impressed.
Brian: Wow. That’s awesome to hear. Flattered.
I feel so full I don’t think I can eat another thing tonight.
Allandra: You skipped school to make me pie. How are you going to top that for tomorrow?
Brian: Oh, I have plans. Big plans. I will see you tomorrow same time same place.
Allandra: I will be there. Ready to eat.
Wow. Who am I even?
I text again.
Allandra: Give me a hint.
Brian: You eat it with a spoon.
Allandra: That’s it? That’s all you are giving me?
He texts me a crying face emoji.
Brian: Poor baby. You will have to wait. You can sit back and snuggle in your BED and daydream about it.
I smile, fully ready to tease the crap out of him.
Allandra: Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Brian: You daydreaming in your bed in relation to me? Hell yeah … that fucking rocks!
I laugh out loud.
Allandra: Good night, lover boy.
Brian: Good evening my Queen. Enjoy the rest of the pie, made by the loving hands of yours truly.
Allandra: I will. C U tomorrow.
I can’t stop myself.
Allandra: One more hint? Pretty please.
Brian: No. Now lay down in that bed of yours and fantasize … like I am!!
Allandra: Ha! Ha! Ha!
Brian: Sweet dreams my dashing Queen. I know mine will be. Because they will be of you.
Allandra: Sweet dreams.
I text him a sleeping emoji.
Then I lie back in my bed, and I’ll be damned if I don’t actually fantasize about him feeling my hair for real and placing his lips to mine in the kind of gentle yet hungry kiss I imagine he’d give. The powers of pie.