Robin Constantine - The Promise of Amazing

“It’s cake time,” Ava announced, striding up to me while wielding her clipboard and crossing off something else on her to-do list.

“I’ll cut,” I answered, jumping at the chance to feel useful.

The kitchen was cooler than the rec room, and quiet. My Camelot skills came in handy, and I attacked the cake like a surgeon, cutting thin slices while another girl scooped vanilla ice cream onto them. The volunteers lined up to carry out cake to the residents. There was a small slab of cake left that I pushed to the side, waiting for Mrs. Fiore’s orders on whether to save it or trash it. I picked up the metal server and ran it under warm water, working the icing off with my fingers.

Luke sidled up to me and placed the extra cake he was holding on the counter.

“Hiding out?” he asked, facing me.

“That obvious? I sort of suck at volunteer work, don’t I?”

“Nah, I think it takes substantial talent to make an old lady toss her tea across the table. Frankly I was impressed.”

“Funny,” I said, genuinely cracking a smile. “And you looked like you were about to get lucky with that redhead.”

His eyes lit up as he smiled, completely transforming his face. He was unnervingly scorching when he wasn’t pouty and brooding. “You should have heard what she said to me.”

“Giving her that bell was sweet. You made her day,” I said, scraping some stubborn icing off the other side of the cake server and shaking off the flustered feeling that sprung up when he looked at me that way.

“It has to suck, you know? I mean, if I’m ever stuck in a place where the highlight of my day is a sing-along and some red-velvet cake, well, fuck, just put a pillow over my head and put me out of my misery.”

I laughed, a loud pop of a laugh that surprised me. “You’re awful.”

“Although this cake,” he said, pinching off a piece from the leftover cake and popping it into his mouth, “is pretty damn good.”

“Looks yummy,” I said.

“Here,” he said, grabbing another bit and holding it against my mouth. “Try it.”

The icing touched my upper lip. My hands were still under running water, and I had no choice but to open my mouth or the piece would have tumbled down the front of my sweater. Luke’s thumb grazed my bottom lip. The air in the room became dense, hot, as his eyes held mine.

“Good, huh?”

I broke his gaze, mumbled mm-hmm as the cake melted in my mouth. My fingers were pruney from the water. I turned off the faucet and shook my hands dry. Luke handed me a paper towel.

“That’s an unusual necklace,” he said.

“Um, thanks,” I replied, focusing on drying the cake server and putting it away.

“Do you mind?” he asked, reaching toward my neck. Before I could say anything, Luke had the charms in his hand, gently tugging me toward him. I had no choice but to follow, afraid the necklace would break otherwise. His face was calm with concentration as he studied it.

“Love,” he said, directly to me. “Grayson gave this to you?”

“Perceptive,” I replied, to which he arched an eyebrow. “Now could you let go?”

He held on to it a second longer, then let the charms fall to my collarbone. I went back to cleaning up, hoping he’d take the snub as a sign to leave.

“I was with him when he got that.”

“Right,” I said. The likelihood of Grayson and Luke going jewelry shopping together was absurd.

“Seeing Grayson later?”

“Yes. He’s picking me up from school.”

“Could you tell him I need to speak to Mike Pearson?”

“If you’re his best friend, why don’t you just call him?” I asked, walking past him and throwing the cake plate into the garbage can. When I turned around, I was nose to nose with the Polo insignia on Luke’s red sweater.

“Because it would mean more coming from you.”

My curiosity was piqued, and against my better judgment, which would have been to just freakin’ walk away, I asked, “Does this have anything to do with the favor he did for you?”

Luke’s face contorted in confusion; he tilted his head to the side. “Favor. For me?”

Even though I’d tried to give Grayson the benefit of the doubt, I still had the feeling he was holding something back. As much as I hated bringing it up with Luke, I forged ahead, hoping to get some more information.

“You know, the girl at the mall?”

He looked past me, blinking a few times before his full lips curled in understanding.

“Allegra? The hot chick about yay high,” he said, putting his hand up to his chest to show her height, then cupping both his hands to mime boobs. “Rack like that? So you know about her?”

My legs felt like liquid as all my worst fears danced in my head. I stared down at my feet and bit the inside of my cheek.

“Come on, you believe Grayson was doing me a favor? You’re smarter than that.”

“Leave me alone.” I shoved past him.

“Wren, chill. I’m not surprised Grayson wouldn’t talk to you about hooking up with that girl. Hell, I’m jealous for you.”

“Don’t be,” I snapped, frantically looking for something to do, but the kitchen was clean. The last thing I wanted to do was go back and pretend to be in a holiday mood, but that was better than staying with Luke. He stepped closer, putting his hands on either side of the counter, cornering me before I had the chance to move away.

“Hey,” he said, softer, his head hung low, his mouth by my ear. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“Sure you were,” I said, shifting to glare at him.

“This is between me and Grayson. You just happen to be in the way.”

“Let me fix that.”

“Wren, wait,” he whispered, blocking my exit.

His face was so close, I could make out the different shades of brown and green in his eyes. He broke our gaze, glancing down at my mouth. The tip of his nose brushed against my cheek as his lips touched mine. The kiss was soft, and it caught me off guard. Instinctively I closed my eyes as my mouth melted against the warmth of his, but then I pushed him away, trembling with anger. Our lips parted with a soft smacking noise. The swinging doors opened with a groan, causing us both to jump.

Ava. Her mouth formed a small, surprised O. Had she seen?

“The guy from the paper is here,” she said, her voice small, echoing through the quiet kitchen. “He wants to take a group picture.” The last sentence trailed off as she calculated the scene.

“We were just talking about Grayson,” Luke said, sauntering over to her. He threw an arm around her shoulder. “How we should all hang out.”

Ava closed her eyes and shivered. “Whatever. Let’s just take this effing picture and get out of here. I’ve filled my community-service quota for the decade.”

The two of them disappeared through the swinging doors, and I crumpled. There was no way I was going to take a group picture—the thought of this event being commemorated in any way made my skin crawl—but then Mrs. Fiore poked her head into the kitchen.

“Come on, Miss Co-chair. You’re needed!” she said. She was wearing the hat with the dancing Christmas tree and looked just this side of crazy. Before I could protest, she hurried me out to the group huddled in front of the tree and placed me right next to Luke.

When the photos were done, and the spots in my eyes from the flash evaporated, I was the first to pull away from the group.

“Wren,” Luke said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I swatted it off. “I’ll talk to Grayson; just get away from me.”

“You closed your eyes,” he said as I walked away.

I stopped, a stream of students and residents continued flowing around me.

“What?”

“When we kissed,” he said, coming closer to me. “You closed your eyes.”