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“We’re getting cake!” Dylan booms happily as he shuts the car door. We’re at Santos, a downtown gym. I’ve woken up to Dylan telling me about his plans to ‘kick the day.’ I didn’t quite take it he meant in the literal sense. Well, it’s a win-win situation. I get to let off steam. He gets to find his art muse, or whatever it’s called. Strapping up my duffel bag, I glance at him. The sheer euphoria on his face is so contagious. Damn, I need to know how much coffee he’s had before stepping out today.
“What?”
He points to his phone. “My very wonderful sister has volunteered to make us cake. For free, of course.” He grins and says, “One of the beautiful privileges that comes with having a baker in the family.”
“Must be nice.”
He chuckles. “Oh, wait till you taste Kay’s pastries. It’ll literally have you wagging your tongue like a dog for extras.”
I frown a bit as I stare at him. That’s vividly descriptive. “You did that, didn’t you?”
He let out a sigh and smiles at me wryly. “You can’t blame me. The honey tart hit better than anything I’ve ever tasted.”
I groan. “Have some shame, man.”
“Wait till you eat this cake,” he retorts defensively, “then you’ll understand what I mean.”
He chucks his phone into his duffel bag and locks the car doors. We go into the gym and start to arrange our workout things, rolling out our mats. I clasp my heavy-duty shin guards in place and look at Dylan who’s doing warm-up calf stretches. “So, uh, what kind of cake is she making?”
He looks up at me and flexes his fingers. “Didn’t say. She never really likes to tell. Prefer a big reveal on the day of— damn.” He abruptly breaks off his words as he looks past me across the equipment room. "You seeing what I'm seeing, bro? That chick right there?”
I swivel around. “The one doing the squats?”
“No. To the left. Don’t make it obvious, for God’s sake. You're gonna out us. No, tilt your head a bit higher. Seen her already? Green pantsuit. Yeah, that’s the one.”
I glance at the woman and look back at him in disapproval. “Stop ogling. And don’t you have a girlfriend, anyway?”
“No,” Dylan says gruffly as he straddles the bench press to practice his calisthenics. “At this point, I don’t think I do.”
Oh. I know what this is.
“Trouble in paradise with Jessie?”
Dylan says nothing, still focused on the barbell, face scrunched up in concentration.
I lift a brow, bemused. “Damn, that bad, huh? What happened?”
He sighs and stops lifting. “Nothing happened. She asked for space, and that’s what I’m doing.”
I stare at him, not buying that excuse for one moment. “That’s it? She just woke up one day and told you she wanted to be alone?”
“You know how women are. You can never understand why they act the way they do.”
“I’m understanding that you must have done something for her to choose to keep a distance from you. I mean, you guys have been together for like what…three months?”
“Two. And screw you for thinking I had something to do with this. I mean, it’s bad I forgot her birthday but you don’t have to be such a salt in the wound.”
Ah-ha.
Leaning back in my seat, I smile at him. “You forgot her birthday?”
Dylan rolls his eyes. “Oh, damn it.”
“Not cool, dude.”
Raking his hands through his hair in frustration, he says, “I only mixed the date up and now she’s treating the entire situation like it’s a warzone. I swear I really thought it was the thirteenth; that’s what I said when she asked. Turns out it’s the fifteenth.” A morose expression drops over his face like a veil. “And now, she’s not talking to me. And I hate it so much 'cause I miss her.”
“There’s only one way to right that wrong, bro.”
