Devil's Food Cake [✓]

38 | bees knees

There was a lot I could of said to him on the subject of meeting with Jonny's parents, but for brevity's sake, I decided to stick with the written questions he'd asked me.

'I don't really like to be rushed, you know...' I sighed, 'but to get you off my back, I'll try my best to condense everything.'

Zachary laughed throatily. 'I can call you tomorrow, if you like. Maybe it would be better for us both. It'll have to be after three though—'

I groaned as though I had to wait outside the headmaster's office for a telling off (something I'd only had to do once in my life). 'You wouldn't dare.'

There was a pronounced silence on his end. I could imagine him staring at the ceiling skeptically at my remark. After all, he seemed like the type of person who didn't let rules stop him. He was unstoppable in his ambition. He could afford to be.

'Fine. I'll tell you now. Thanks for being such a caring, considerate friend,' I gave in, trying to keep my voice even.

'Yes,' he said as though he was preparing himself for the worse.

'I'm looking at your questions now. What does it matter if they're middle class?' I squinted my eyes. 'They are. His mum is a primary school teacher and his dad is an IT consultant. They made a joke about me being a banker's daughter,' I said, releasing a depressed snort.

'Oh. I suppose they must have been disappointed. It must have felt like their son was slumming it, right?" he said, with an undertone of mischief.

'What about you? Aren't you slumming it?' my voice was bubbling with anger at his nonchalance. Who did he think he was? Why did he think that because he didn't have to worry about money that he had the right to bother me? I suddenly wished I had switched off my phone instead of answering his call.

'I don't follow.' He was like a fortress; stubborn and impenetrable.

'Why do you associate with me if you think I'm beneath you?'

'No. I'm broadening my horizons,' was his considered reply, 'besides, I'm helping your father. He saved my life. It's the least I could do.'

I bunched my fist into my cotton sheets; there he goes, as usual, being reasonable and making me look like I was the one in the wrong for blowing off some steam. I hated that about him. He had the rather infuriating knack of deflecting criticism. It was hard not to feel like my anger was unjust. I let out a deep sigh, scratching my nape, and looking miserably at my window. There was the shadowy, silvery, glimmer of moonlight which trailed a tentative hand cross my floorboards.

I didn't hear anything on his line; if I wasn't looking at the screen, I would have thought that he'd ended the call. Yet, unbelievably, he was still there. Waiting for me.

'I'm sorry for snapping at you. I didn't mean it that way. I don't know half what I say when I'm angry, if I'm being honest with you.' I felt like crying, big, salty tears. My chest was exploding with sorrow.

'I understand,' he murmured. It did feel we had an understanding at that moment; his voice in my ear, the subsequent pitying silence, was like an acknowledgement to me that he knew exactly what I was feeling. For that, a part of me, a secret room inside the fragile, aching skeleton of my body, was glad that someone could share in my upset.

I gave him a summary of the day's events, my voice stumbling over words, a stream of tears poured down my cheeks, hot and shameful.

'—His mother was snide to me. She's really annoying—' My words got stuck in my throat like fudge. I traced my finger against the floral pattern on my sheet; the flowers looked wilted as I scrunched the fabric between my fingers.

'Did you give her a gift?' Zachary responded; his tone was thoughtful as though he could think of a solution to everything; everything came so easily for him, I noted.

'Yeah,' I said uncooperatively, 'I gave her some Jaffa chocolate-orange cupcakes. She had the cheek to say her ones were better, but her husband ate the lot...'

Zachary gasped as though he felt personally affronted on my behalf. 'How dare she! You make Jaffa cupcakes. Hmm. I didn't know that...'

'I can bake you some and you can collect it.' I closed my eyes, stretching my legs fully out, my back sunk fully into the mattress, as though welcoming me like a butterfly returning back to her comfortable cocoon after a hard, miserable day avoiding being caught in human nature's traps.

'Is it free,' he enquired, a glint of greed breaking through his soothing, warm, clear as a bell tones.

'Pay or Good day,' I said irritably.

'Hard Candy. Mmm,' he drawled, relish dripping off each of his words. 'I like this side of you. It doesn't often come out on display, but you're not as sweet-tempered as one would think...'

I growled like a werewolf at the shadowy ceiling, throwing my head back. I heard the familiar sound of delighted laughter on the other end. I resumed talking to him, reluctantly. Why did our interaction seem like thrilling torture? If he was in front of me, I don't know what I would have done. Despite myself, I found myself giggling a little as I sometimes did in frustrating situations.

'Why do you always have to have a dirty mind?'

'No absolutes, remember,' he fenced back.

'I'm trying to have a serious discussion with you,' I blew out quickly, a strand of hair which fell on my face lifted up.

'I appreciate that. But who cares about Jonno's family. You won't even remember them in a couple of years. Or next autumn. Why do you care so much about their opinion of you? The only person who you should care about is me. You know why? I think you're the bees knees. That should be enough, Candice.' I could tell he was impatient, yet that didn't dilute the sincerity of the message.

I confess I was taken aback by his speech. A warm, overwhelming sense of pleasure and happiness erupted inside me. It was one of the nicest things he'd ever said to me.

'Thanks, Zach. I don't deserve your kindness,' I said shyly.

'Oh, you deserve it,' he said; and he meant it.

I was dying inside, but not from anything negative; I was having a difficult time trying to pinpoint all the positive emotions whirling around me like ecstatic dancers enjoying themselves. The day didn't feel so bad. Meeting the parents almost didn't seem to matter in the grand scheme of things. Not when I was here, talking to him, the moon bathing my room in a romantic, blissful, peaceful glow.

'Your thirty minutes is almost up...' I said, stupidly. I could have kicked myself.

'Oh really,' he said, a touch wistful. The spell was broken. 'I'd... better get some sleep. You should too.'

I didn't want him to leave so soon. We said our goodnights. He ended the call. All alone.

Unfortunately, good things don't always last for long, not tonight, at least, but I could dream.