Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

Chapter 11- Lauren

T here were a lot of emotions making a sort of panic smoothie in my stomach after that appointment. Not only because of Jer’s story. I knew some stuff went down with him and Kat, but Jesse had already left for college, and Jeremy and I weren’t friends without my brother as the common denominator then, so I didn’t really know.

I struggled to imagine him the way he described himself, and I guessed I could see the part where he flirted with other women... he was a pathological flirt; it’s part of why he was fun to hang out with. But the rest... it was hard to reconcile his version of himself with the one I saw. I didn’t think he was that great of an actor, so my hypothesis was he had put in the work to be better, even beyond being clean.

He was always working, either at the garage or in class, and he only ever drank, like, one beer anytime we went out if anything at all. He’d taken my ass home more than once and brought me baked goods. He was helping me plan a wedding shower, for fuck’s sake. This was not a man who brought out the worst in people. At least not anymore.

It helped that I understood his history, though. His hesitation with me had always gone beyond some half-hearted objection from Jesse about it being weird seeing his best friend with his sister. This made more sense. The annoying, persistent little thought that had popped into existence during his speech, though? I hadn’t anticipated that. I had tried to squash it out of existence during my next client’s service, but there it remained hours later as I tried to sleep.

This is what happens when you ask people serious questions. You get serious answers, and now you must think serious thoughts.

I yanked my pillow over my head, knowing it would do no good at all, and I started making a mental list of what I needed to do for the shower. Invitations would be the natural next step, but graphic design savant that she was, Sam insisted on creating them herself. I needed to arrange for rentals.

I can send out emails at one a.m. That’s acceptable, right? It’s not like I’m calling anyone and waking them up.

I decided that logic was sound, and I got out of bed and began filling out contact forms for every local rental place I could find for tables, linens, and heaters. At least my insomnia was productive.

I FINALLY PASSED OUT somewhere around three-thirty and slept like the dead until noon. My phone had notifications, but coffee came first. After I began to wake up in earnest, I scrolled.

SAM: Get me your schedule for this week. Dress shopping for real!

LAUR: I’m off Wednesday! Consider it planned.

She sent me back no less than fifteen clapping emojis.

LAUR: Are you and Jesse coming over for fireworks or are you going to stay at the fair?

SAM: Fair. We totally missed the fun last Harvest Festival because of my mother, so I’ve insisted we bribe the Ferris wheel operator to put us at the top for fireworks. You’re sure you won’t come?

LAUR: I’m sure. I’m not in a carnival mood. Jer’s coming over so we can work on wedding shower things anyway, so I’ll have someone to ooh and ahh with over the finale anyway.

SAM : Am I allowed to make a comment about how there are many other things you could ooh and ahh over with Jer alone in your house?

LAUR : Permission denied.

SAM : You used to be fun!

LAUR: You used to be nice!

SAM: That’s an outright lie. I’ve never been nice. Have fun tonight. Allllll the fun.

I sent her a single middle finger emoji and moved on.

I’D CLEANED MY HOUSE with the music at the loudest volume I could get away with while avoiding one of my neighbors knocking on my door to complain. My house was typically clean, and I knew where everything was. Except for important items I needed daily. Namely my keys, my shoes, my phone, and, for some reason, my hairbrush. Today was not an exception. I knew my phone was in my house because it was streaming music to my speakers. But where in my house was a mystery.

I occupied myself with fun eye makeup and turned down my speaker so I could hear him knock on the door if he arrived early. I originally thought about red, white, and blue shadow, but for a night in, that seemed like maybe a lot. So, I went with straight-up glitter instead because: fireworks. I was nothing if not a theme lover.

I found my phone tucked into the shorts I was wearing earlier and pulled it out, victorious. Christian had sent me pictures of his own eye makeup, and, of course, it was insane and made mine look like a child’s art project. He also went for fireworks but with expertly drawn silver glitter lines exploding from his eyeliner. He zoomed out and got his shirt in the frame that said FUCK THE PATRIARCHY , so I guessed he was going for balance. I sent back twelve fire emojis. The next messages were from Jer, and that little whisper of a thought I’d been squashing all day waved hello in my brain.

Shut up .

JEREMY: You said sundown, but that’s not a time.

JEREMY: Maybe it is. I looked it up and it says 9:05, but I’m pretty sure fireworks start at 9. So, I’m going to assume you meant to come over at some point as the sun is setting. I have unilaterally decided that means 8:30. See you then. I have cookies but let me know if you want me to pick up anything.

He sent a photo of said cookies as proof. I looked at the time, and my heart gave a slight sputter. It was 8:25. I grabbed the sigil Sam had made for me to help me keep a level head. Whatever that meant.

LAUR: I realize this response is late, but yes, 8:30 is fine.

JEREMY: Glad to hear it. I just pulled in.

I went to unlock the door and figured I’d wait. He parked and stepped out of his car wearing a tight blue t-shirt and jeans, a hoodie thrown over his shoulder, and his tattoos peeking out beneath his sleeves. His hair looked good, falling along his jawline. That wasn’t a compliment for him; it was a compliment for me. I was very talented.

“You like what you see, Garrett? I feel like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’d like that. I was admiring my incredible skill with your hair.”

“Sure, you were. It does look good, though.”

He handed me a container of cookies, and I could already smell them. I directed him inside and offered him a drink.

“Can I have, like, a gigantic glass of water? I can feel my body begging for hydration. I got caught up in our project today and sort of forgot to eat or drink things for, you know, survival. But you should have the beginning of a super sexy spreadsheet in your inbox. And I ordered ingredients for the desserts for the shower. So, I’m winning at that.”

“I feel this struggle on a very deep level. Yes, water, and I have Chinese being delivered in, like, five. I figured Chinese restaurants might be less busy today.”

“Hot and smart. You are killing it at wooing me. I like it.”

He winked at me like he was a movie star leading man, and I wanted to make fun of him, but my body was a big fan of the compliment and the wink.

“I’m not wooing you. I don’t woo. ”

The food arrived at that moment, and I had to abandon my defense. As soon as he’d said it, I realized I hadn’t eaten all day either, and my mouth started watering.

He took one look at the collection of paper boxes and scoffed.

“If this isn’t wooing, I don’t know what is, Garrett.”

He helped me open everything up and attempted to give me forty bucks to pay for it, which I refused because Sam and I never worried about who paid for food, and Jer and I were supposed to be friends, too.

“You can get next time, then. Stop pouting,” I said after he kept complaining.

His smile returned, and I proceeded to inhale crab rangoons straight from the bag as I loaded up a plate.

“We have to go out on the porch to see the show, so hurry up.”

He heeded my warning, scooped noodles onto his plate, and followed me out to my patio. It was tiny but cute. It matched the rest of the house in that everything was bright and mixed patterns, and I loved it.

We plopped onto the cushioned bench and consumed our calories in silence. The temperature had dropped with the sun, and I zipped up my hoodie and grabbed a blanket from my couch. Because he was very, very manly, Jer declined a blanket, but after approximately two more minutes, he tugged on the corner of mine and declared that sharing was caring.

“I have other blankets, is all I’m saying.”

“But I like that you’re under this one, too,” he said, flirting shamelessly, bumping his shoulder into mine.

I rolled my eyes and ignored the warmth of him against me. At least his boundary of flirting and nothing more made more sense now. It was less infuriating. Thinking about his story from yesterday made me sit up a little straighter as I consciously tried to push that annoying notion away again.

“Sorry,” he muttered, scooting back out under the blanket. “You told me to act like your friend, and I have been doing a shit job of it. I’ll go get a blanket.”

“Oh, shut up,” I started, wishing the fireworks would start and interrupt the word vomit I knew was about to come out of my mouth. “You can sit under the blanket. Jesus.”

“Okay... you seemed, whatever. I’ll stop talking.”

He scooted right back in where he’d been.

“I just... the way you were talking about yourself in relationships yesterday? I kind of feel the same. I think. I’ve been trying not to think about it, which makes the stupid thought pop up even more.”

“What do you mean you feel the same?” he inquired, his tone curious.

“Not in terms of, like, a baseball bat incident. Thankfully, I don’t have one of those. I tend to... go from hot to freezing at the drop of a hat. And then I’m done, and I feel bad because it’s never a good reason. Like, I’m putting these guys through unnecessary drama or confusion. I’m not sure how to put it. But most of the time, they’re decent guys.

“So, when you said something about not liking yourself in a relationship, it kind of struck a chord. It’s a lot easier to think that there’s something wrong with everyone else, and it’s a harder pill to swallow to admit that the common denominator is me. Or like I cause harm to other people, even if it’s not intentional. Sometimes it is intentional, though.”

I bit my lip, disliking the direction I’d taken the evening so far.

“It’s not even like I don’t know that I’m the issue. It’s why I mostly hook up with tourists, but it’s another thing to hear it out loud. Bottom line, I think I should also stay away from relationships. So, thanks for that.”

I tried to end it lightly and took a large drink of water.

“Laur... there’s nothing wrong with you,” he started.

“It’s fine. I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. And to prove my point, I ghosted the last guy I went out with, who was somewhat local, because he said his favorite movie was Fight Club . I mean, it’s the most cliché ‘I’m trying to sound like an alpha’ answer, so I don’t apologize for rolling my eyes, but otherwise, he was okay for the whole three or four dates we went on. But no, never to be spoken of again.”

Jeremy laughed and chewed thoughtfully on his orange chicken.

“It might have been a little harsh, but that answer could have been indicative of a whole host of other red flags. Maybe you dodged a bullet, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe. Except I do that shit a lot. So, am I constantly dodging bullets? Should I be concerned that someone has a hit out on me?”

He laughed again but was quiet for a few uncomfortable beats after. When he finally met my eyes, I was worried he’d say something judgy and make me regret my existence for the past ten minutes. Instead, a serious expression settled over his features.

“We’re kind of a mess, Laur.”

A small giggle escaped my mouth, and then another, and then the gates opened. It was completely ridiculous. He joined me in laughing too hard at how screwed up the two of us were. The giggles subsided, and I wiped tears from my eyes.

“At least we’re hot messes, you know? I look good while I’m fucking everything up,” he insisted.

I opened my mouth to respond as the first firework went up.

Thanks for nothing, I thought, noting they were starting ten minutes late.

Just long enough for me to overshare. But I guessed it all ended up as well as it could have. Both of our attentions refocused on the show over the lake. The reflections were as lovely as the fireworks themselves, and it didn’t matter how old I got, they always felt magical.

I felt Jer move impossibly closer and put his arm around my shoulder. I should have shrugged it off. I wasn’t sure if this was out of pity that I sucked at relationships, but it felt more like commiseration about our abject failures with the opposite sex. Plus, it felt good having his fingers rub circles on my upper arm. The shiver that echoed through me had nothing to do with being cold.

If we’re enjoying it, then we might as well really enjoy it .

It was in that spirit that I took out the little piece of paper with the magical sigil and tore it in two as discreetly as I could. There was no room for rationality with the way I was feeling.

I set my plate down on the little table and drew my knees up, curling into his side and letting his arm drape over me and pull me tighter. As the sparkles in the sky popped, he played with the hem of my jacket and brushed his fingers over my hip, creating ripples in the shivering effect. I gripped his shirt in my hand, needing something to keep me from floating. He didn’t seem to mind.

The finale began, and a smile spread across my face because I couldn’t be unhappy during a Fourth of July fireworks finale. Jer’s free hand loosened my grip on his shirt and intertwined his fingers with mine as the colors blazed in the distance.

The show ended, and we could hear the cheers from down by the lake drift up. We let the cocoon around us linger for a moment before awkwardly disentangling ourselves from each other.

“I suppose we need to tend to very important serious wedding shower business?” he asked, clearing his throat and picking up our plates to bring inside.

I nodded affirmatively, following him back in the house. I did spare one last look at the bench, wishing maybe that show had gone on a while longer.