Page 53 of Damián

ZARA: I’m meeting Sex God!! FUCK YES.

ZARA: I’m so in!

Dear God…

I immediately angle the screen away from Damián so he can’t read the absolute lack of shame radiating from my best friend.

“Well?” Damián asks, leaning in slightly. “What does she say?”

“She seems… hesitant.”

The phone buzzes again in my palm.

ZARA: I’m so excited!!! Can you make out with him in front of me?

I close my eyes for a split second, praying for patience… or for a sinkhole to open up and swallow the Waldorf whole.

“Very hesitant.” I smile and type a reply.

OLIVER: Tone it down, Z, or I swear I’ll hire a lookalike to go in your place.

ZARA: Ok, I’ll be boring and act as if I’ve never heard of him.

OLIVER: Promise?

ZARA: Promise.

I’m about to lock the phone when another text comes in.

ZARA: But…. I demand at least one kiss in front of me. If not, the deal is off.

OLIVER: Fine, you fucking Rumpelstiltskin.

ZARA: Yay!!!!!

I lock the phone and shove it face-down onto the carpet, safely out of sight. I look back up at Damián and let out a defeated sigh. “…She’s in.”

“Great!”

I pick up my pizza and take a bite of the crust. “Yeah… great.”

— ¤ —

On Friday afternoon, I walk beside Damián toward the famous Chapters & Crumbs. He’s told me so much about this bakery that I feel like I already know the place inside and out.

“Are we sure we can come here?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder. “Isn’t this connected to… you know?”

“This is the best bakery in New York. They average nine hundred sales a day, and I come here often by myself since it’s the only place I can safely leave messages for… you know. Finni also knows I am an art dealer,” Damián replies with a comforting smile. “So relax, no one will suspect a thing.”

But I’m so conflicted.

I am absolutely dying to go inside, meet the famous Finni, and finally try the food, but Damián doesn’t understand how Rafael’s mind works. He is deeply paranoid, and I don’t want to put anyone in this bakery in danger just because we wanted pie.

“If you are hesitant, we’ll just give the shadows some of the pastries,” Damián says, as if he’s reading my mind. “Once they taste the food, they’ll completely understand why we dragged them all the way out here.”

“Can we do that?”

“Sure. I’ll handle it.” Damián stops just outside the entrance and offers me his hand. “Ready?”