26 | Soufflé

Just a normal cruising to the school with Mitch and just like that it was gone.

My feet were crossed one over the other as I laid on the backseat, one of Mitch's sunglasses perched on my nose. I even had my arms behind my head, but the ringing of the phone and the sudden brakes caught me off guard and I rolled down out of my seat.

"Sorry!" Mitch apologized, honking her horn, "Sudden traffic! Gee, that car though. Ollie, you think you can hold the wheel for a while because I need to get the license plate!"

She rapidly took out her phone, muttering 'nevermind, nevermind' as she went ahead and snapped a photo for her collection. Cars behind us began to honk and beep in impatience. "Alright, alright, cool your bumpers," she yelled behind her and slammed the gas.

It jolted me forward as I was going to get my phone. Someone was calling and I was worried that it was Maira, requesting for me to do something for tonight, the anniversary party. It would start at seven, but before that, Mitch and I had to visit school this fine day to help prepare for the Clevemore fair.

The Clevemore fair: also known as one of the best events at the school. Not only do clubs get to share what they did – I really had to check out the Exorcists Club, though – but it was a day we fooled around. Even teachers fooled around. I had heard Vasquez was pulling off a Batman suit.

Anyway, today was still for preparations and we had to get booths up, get our clubs ready for the shifting of jobs and make all sorts of props. Busy, yes, but it was absolutely worth it.

The caller wasn't Maira, as I feared, but it was Lawrence Riley. Great. Did he get to saw Jessica's head off already? Or had they found a girl for him? A little hesitantly, I put the phone up to my ear, "Hello?"

"Ollie!" Lawrence's frantic voice came, "Ollie! Please! You have to help me! This is an emergency!" He burst into fake sobs. I met Mitch's gaze through the mirror. She cocked one eyebrow and I shrugged.

Some communication we had.

"What is it now?" I let out an audible sigh, "Did you get your hand stuck in the sink? Your Lego table collapsed? Mr. Vernon shot you in the crotch again?"

"No! It's worse!"

I had never heard much panic in his voice ever since that one time his date broke down hysterically in the shop. It caught the attention of all the customers and staff, including Mom. Poor Lawrence had been stuck in a tight spot that time. I had gotten him free ice cream from my allowance that day.

"Is this about Jessica?" I asked carefully. If she was involved, then it was serious.

He cried out, "Yes! You have to help me, Ollie! She stayed the night and now she wouldn't come out of my room! She locked the door and I can't get in and she's not saying anything – I think she's dead, Ollie!"

Then came a wave of ramblings and alarmed anxieties from him. My eyebrows rose as I tried to calm him down. What was the matter with Jess? "She stayed the night at yours?" I asked.

Lawrence seemed to realize what it seemed to mean. "No, we didn't do anything! We were just going over options and watching a movie. Then she fell asleep and I carried her to my bedroom! Then I slept in the couch . . . and this morning I found the door locked. Help me! I'm still in pajamas and I haven't showered!"

Well that sounded like a problem. From up front, I grabbed Mitch's wrist and glanced at the time at her watch. "You're still in your pajamas and it's twelve noon!" I yelled into the phone.

"I know! I have to be in sweatpants watching Netflix right now!"

"And she hasn't spoken to you since you woke up?"

"Um." I imagined him tapping his head. "No. When I knocked on the door, she told me to go away. I tried to beg but she wouldn't let me in. The screwdriver wouldn't even work on the doorknob."

I didn't bother to ask why he used a screwdriver to pick the door.

"Wait a minute," I tensed all over, "Are you telling me you both haven't had breakfast and lunch yet?"

"I'm out of stock!"

I cursed over and over again. "Buttermilk, vanilla, chocolates! Mitch turn the car right now!" I could only imagine how worried Lawrence was. But I couldn't understand why Jess would act that way. Did Lawrence do something to her last night?

No, Lawrence wouldn't do that. He picked off 'nopes' from walls for me – 'nopes', as in spiders and the like. He would even handle the bigger 'nopes'.

Mitch had turned us around and we were heading opposite direction now. Sorry, fair preparations, Lawrence hadn't eaten yet. "Why are we turning back? Are the police following?"

"No. Lawrence has an emergency. Take me to the apartments, but we stop at Chipotle first." I leaned forward and trained my eyes on the road. The school was behind us, and we would be late for roll call. That idiot, why didn't he call me earlier?

My only guess was that he'd only woken up an hour ago.

"What's the matter?" Mitch asked, turning down her music a bit.

"Jess – that's his matchmaker – wouldn't come out of his room. We don't know why and they haven't had breakfast yet. Or lunch. Brunch. So drive fast, missy."

It took us about twenty minutes to get to Chipotle, and I took a while to get food. The things I did for Lawrence. I reminded myself that he was worth my week's allowance and I hopped back into the car. She drove fast to the apartments, and I could practically feel Lawrence's panic reeking from his flat.

Hold on, Riley.

"What about the fair?" asked Mitch once I got out of the car. I resisted the urge to rub my face all over. Not yet the anniversary party and I was already running about. Earlier today, I had thought I'd just be lounging around in my room before the big night until Mitch arrived at the shop, reminding me of school on Saturday.

"I'll be there. At the rehearsals, hopefully. I'll make sure of it. Make me an excuse, okay?" I told Mitch.

"Which one now? The one where you get diseased from eating desserts, diarrhea or Castiel told you not to?" she inquired.

I pursed my lips before answering, "Preferably the three. Much convincing that way." They would let me off the hook anyway. Coming today to the school wasn't required, but everybody still went.

I was three steps from the car when Mitch stopped me again, "Ollie!"

I searched the car for anything that I might have forgotten. Certain that there was nothing, I looked at Mitch who said, "You have clothes for tonight?"

Crappy sprinkles. Maira had mentioned getting me a dress, but I had declined. Knowing her, she probably had a box of gown and accessories ready for me. But I still didn't have an outfit for cooking. I couldn't exactly cook in a hood and jeans, could I?

I sent Mitch an aimless shake of head. Her face lit up, "I'll drop by the shop later. Mom gave me these clothes that are formal and everything, but there no chance I would ever wear those. Plus, it's kind of big for me. You up?"

"Dress? Skirt?" I crossed my arms. She knew my preferences.

"No, just ordinary professional getup. This one has two pant legs. I'll make you hideous tonight, yeah? Raquel will help with that."

I allowed a chuckle, "Sure. And Mom said she has shoes for me. Make me super ugly tonight." A dressing up night. Boo for me, happiness for Mom, and a rare opportunity for Mitch to snap a photo of me frowning in makeup.

"You need me to stay?" Mitch tilted her head.

"No. This won't be quick. You go ahead and I'll catch a bus." I gave her a salute while she blew me a kiss before she drove off.

Coming up the stairs to Lawrence's floor, I let my legs go a pace slower to prolong Lawrence's wait. As I approached a landing, my phone rang a second time but this one I ignored. I continued up and soon I was breathing a bit heavily. Where was the damn elevator around here anyway?

When I got to the door, it flung open even before I knocked. Lawrence stood there, all wrecked up, and in his Disney pajamas. I threw the foiled up food at him and barged inside.

"Still no words?" I stared at the door to his bedroom, which was closed and silent.

"No," he croaked, giving me a hug from the back, "I'm really worried, Ollie."

"So yesterday, what were you really doing?"

He frowned, "I told you. Running over options for girls. Then she slept on me."

"And you couldn't just wake her and ask her to go up top to her flat?"

He looked like realization struck him on the face. But he cowered like a child caught red-handed and clasped his hands together. "But she looked so tired and sleepy! What if she got mad at me if I woke her up?" he defended.

Or maybe you were just fond of her and you didn't realize. But I was no correct judge of Lawrence's feelings.

"I'm wondering maybe you can talk to her. She can tell you what's wrong," said Lawrence. He announced that he'd get the food prepared and I go over to the door to see what was wrong.

I turned back and held my hand out to him, "Wait. That Chipotle isn't free, you know."

"Oh," he dug under his shirt and pulled out crumpled bills. He smoothened them before handing the bunch to me. I mentally counted the money in my hand.

"Law! I charge extra for delivery," I shook my hand, asking for the additional pay for the troubles. Twenty minutes to Chipotle and ten to here – that was a waste of gas. Lawrence frowned deeply and handed me more coins.

"Thank you," I shoved the money into my pocket, deliberately wrinkling the bills again. I walked over carefully to the bedroom door and pressed my ear against it.

What happened to Jess? Sick? Why wouldn't she talk to Lawrence? Girl problems? I had a few theories but I had to confirm them first.

"Jess?" I called out softly, knocking on the door. From the kitchen, Lawrence watched curiously. He began whispering things to me in precaution but I brushed them all off.

Shuffling in the other side of the door. Walking. She was up, not passed out, thank heavens. "Ollie?" she squeaked, her voice close to me. I blew out tiny breaths bit by bit.

"Jessica, Lawrence called me. What's wrong?"

Silence before she answered. From his place, Lawrence was trying to hear out the conversation. "Can you come inside?" she asked me then added quickly, "Don't let Lawrence in!"

"Why not?"

"Just don't, please! Only you!" she whispered loudly.

"Okay. Let me in."

Lawrence was trying to grab my attention, asking me what magic I had performed and what Jessica had said to me. "She wants me to go in," I told him, "But you have to stay away."

"Why?" He looked so disheartened.

"Just do it. She wants space. I'll talk to you right after." He slowly nodded in partial understanding and went back to setting the plates and kitchenware. I heard the lock click open and Jessica opened the door for a fraction and pulled me inside.

And what was inside?

If I hadn't had prior knowledge of the female anatomy, I would have thought a murder was committed in this small room. The curtains were drawn, the lights dimmed but what was attention-grabbing? The bed had messed up sheets, and blood soaked the whole thing.

Jessica was slightly shaking beside me. Her white pants were all bled out and her t-shirt stained with shed tears. My shoulders sagged in sympathy. Real emergency indeed.

"All this wasted blood," I walked over to the bed, "Could've been useful for vampires."

Jessica sniffed.

"Oh, honey," I took both her arms and squeezed. She was crying again, oh chocolates. "Tell me everything. From the beginning."

"I woke up this morning," her words sounded forced, "And I knew it was already that time of the month. And Lawrence wasn't awake yet when I peeked out the door. So I locked it. I couldn't ask him for pads or tampons, Ollie – I couldn't! And the bathroom isn't even inside here. I can't go out looking like I unleashed hell inside here!"

I pursed my lips. "I had no choice," she said helplessly.

"And you think, Lawrence wouldn't understand that you're on your period?" I asked gently.

She shook her head, "No! I don't know! In college, boys don't seem to care. I needed a girl here with me. Isn't he one to avoid girls when they're bleeding out of their vaginas?"

I'm afraid you're wrong, sister. Lawrence understood perfectly. He was one of the rare percentages of boys who didn't cover their ears or flinch at the mention of a girl's period.

I was sixteen then. Working at the shop as usual. But I had no idea I was already bleeding. He was the one who approached me and calmly told me I was on period. I went red down there and up on my face. But he gladly accompanied me to the bathroom, handed me pads and bought me chocolate.

It was then I knew I should keep him.

"Can you fetch me pads from the store?" Jessica asked.

"Okay," I said, "But you have to talk to Lawrence."

"I can't!"

"Well, what do you want to do? Get out of here with white-red pants and leave the bed stained with demonic water from the waterfall of doom?"

She chewed on her lips as she hugged herself. Oh, this Jessica. She didn't have to be afraid.

Jess squealed and leapt back to the bed and I guessed she started bleeding again. I kept my hand on the doorknob, ready to get out and hunt for vampire teabags. "You want me to tell Lawrence or . . . ?"

"Your call," she waved me off from under the covers. I wanted to tell her badly that Lawrence was worried.

I sighed and slipped out of the door. Lawrence met me right away. "What's wrong?" he asked, "What's wrong with her?"

I took a glimpse once at the door and steered us to the couch. "Time of the month," I told him grimly, "The bed's already as red as a Remembrall. She wants me to run to the store and get her the necessities."

Lawrence's face darkened at my explanation, "That's it? She couldn't trust me to tell me that? I wouldn't have called you over!"

"I know. But she thinks you're one of those boys."

"I'm not!"

"I know! But I have to get her the pads, okay? You wait here until I come back and don't open that door. You'll only make it worse for Jess. She's crying," I told Lawrence sternly.

"But I have chocolates ready and the breakfast . . ." he mumble,. "I can treat her myself, you know."

"Stop saying things I already know – you sound like my teacher. Just wait for me here, Lawrence. You promise?"

He nodded and sat down on the couch. He didn't like it that he didn't get to comfort Jessica. That she would label him as the type who didn't care. But I wanted him to show her how much of a perfect guy he should be. That one should convince Jess.

After scouring the street for the pads, my feet were worn out badly. It was one of those times when you felt so busied and stressed out but you knew you had to do it without a rest because someone was in need.

By the time I went back to the flat, it was scorching hot. Degrees higher than my own hotness. Lawrence was pacing inside, and he narrowed his eyes at me, "Is that a lollipop?"

Oh right, I was sucking a lollipop. I took the candy out and put it back in, sucking furiously. "Apparently the lady at the counter gives these to a girl whenever she checks out pads or tampons," I explained and tossed him the pads I bought.

"That's not free either, in case you're wondering," I gave him a look.

"You're going to rip my pockets," he dug into his pants and pulled out another set of coins and bills. Cute little college boy, paying for a girl's period bill. Sighs of joy for humanity here.

He tossed me back the pads, "You give these to her."

"What?" I said, quite incoherently because of the candy in my mouth, "But you need to prove to her – "

"I know; stop telling me things I already know," he said, "But I have to take this to her while you give the vampire teabags."

I looked at the tray he was carrying, containing a plate of fresh burrito, a bowl of chocolate bars, a drink (chocolate milk, probably). They were all set on top of a placemat, there were fine dining silverware and Lawrence even added a vase with a tiny flower on it, half-wilted.

Too cute.

"We'll go in together," I gave a thumb up of approval.

We slowly tiptoed to the bedroom door, where I could hear the sounds of Jessica's sobbing and sniffing. "Jess? I have the pads."

"Oh, thank God, Ollie." As soon as she opened the door, I pushed it wide open and dragged Lawrence in with me.

Jessica screamed and got a towel to cover her blood-bathed nether regions. She stared at Lawrence in alarm. "What is he doing here?" she shrieked, "He shouldn't be here!"

I held up two hands as I handed her the pads, "Jess, Jess calm down. It's fine. He understands." We both glanced at Lawrence, who was staring at the blood-soaked sheets. White sheets. He had this sentimental look on him.

Jessica whimpered, pushing herself into a corner.

"No, Jess! It's fine," I urged on, "Come on, Lawrence, talk to her."

"Oh," Lawrence snapped out of his daze. He casually set down the tray on the study desk, pushing aside the papers. I saw Jessica gawk.

"You know I'm glad you stained those," Lawrence pointed to the bed.

"No need to be sarcastic," Jessica muttered.

His eyes widened in all honesty. "No, really! I am glad. That way, I can procrastinate a lot by doing heavy laundry. Plus, I get to change those into my Spiderman sheets." He moved around the room and to the closet, "Here they are."

I leaned back against a wall as I looked at Jessica's amazed expression. "It gets better," I whispered to her.

Lawrence took out his blue sheets and propped them down on the floor. Then, he held out a pair of pants and a shirt, "Here, you can wear these after you change. Just for the meantime. I'll get clothes for you upstairs later."

"I'm not wearing that," Jessica said weakly.

"Calm down, I haven't worn those in so long. They don't fit me anymore." At Lawrence's words, she reluctantly took the clothing and clutched them to her chest.

"The bathroom's the room next to this one. And while you change I'll go fix the sheets. You need to eat breakfast, too," said Lawrence as he began changing the sheets without batting an eye. In a daze, Jessica went out to change.

"Man, Ollie, girls are so metal," Lawrence showed me the bloodied sheets. I chuckled in agreement. It never ceased to amaze Lawrence Riley how girls could carry that much blood in their system.

Soon, Jess finished changing and she and Lawrence ate on the Spiderman sheets in silence. Lawrence invited me over to a bite on his burrito, but I politely declined and left them alone to their peace. I took time to watch Game of Thrones on the TV, catching snippets of their conversations.

I heard Jess say sorry. And Lawrence assured her that he could handle anything, so she should never be afraid to tell him her problems. The eavesdropping made me smile. But I was frowning once again when I remembered the fair rehearsals. After their meal, I softly told them that I needed to go.

"Thank you," Jess' eyes held gratitude when she stopped me before I went out the door.

"No, honey, I only fetched the pads. It's all Lawrence," I cocked my head towards the boy, who was waiting for Jess on the couch. He said later on, they'll be moving meetings to Jess' flat.

"Thank you for showing me he's not all bad," Jess hugged me tightly.

I went out the building with a stupid grin on my face. But it completely vanished when I felt how hot it was and how the road lacked buses and taxis.

Time to call Jackson.

♫ ♫ ♫

"Soufflé, Soufflé, Soufflé!" The head chef chanted. Inwardly groaning, I looked up at the scene. Mr. Head Chef was patting everyone, screaming this dessert I barely knew about.

Here I was in the kitchen and outside, the anniversary party was being held. Mom and Mitch fixed me up and even though it wasn't a dress, I still hated it. The blouse constricted my middle, the slacks were up to my hips and I felt like my hair was going to be torn from my scalp.

And the heels. Oh, the pain.

I didn't feel beautiful. I was in a steaming kitchen wearing makeup and I wanted to go home, whatever Maira would say. The other hired cooks and chefs did their work while I took time to catch my breath at a counter. I had no idea cooking for more than a thousand guests could make MasterChef look lame.

"Soufflé," Kit, a fellow cook I met who was fairly nicer than everyone else, tapped me on the shoulder. He kept a close eye at our head chef, who looked like his moustache was about to fall off. "You should start baking it. It's the dessert for this evening."

Dessert? "I don't even know how to make that," I whispered back.

One guy suddenly screamed because the octopus wriggled in his arms. Kit and I winced as the animal tackled him and he fell on the floor. The head chef became furious.

I haven't even seen Maira, Walter, Jackson or Brennan the whole night. Upon arriving in the place, the manager directed me to the kitchen where I barely got to cook. Instead, I had fetched ingredients, wiped sweat, trapped hairs in nets and acted assistant to the cooks.

Not cool. Not cool, at all.

I had an urge to get my phone and ask Maira how long I needed to be here in the kitchen. She had promised me I won't be working for the whole night and I had free time to roam around and listen to Walter's speech. But I didn't know how long my work time was. If I tried to slip away, head chef will have my head.

And the worst part is – drum roll here – I haven't eaten a single bite tonight. Apparently, taste testers were also hired.

Kit pointed to a blonde woman near us, "You can ask Laura, our baker. Now get going before head chef sees you not doing anything." He pushed me towards this Lauren but I refused to go willingly. She looked completely terrifying holding those knives in her hands.

I almost whimpered when I stood in front of her. But then, I got more scared when she started rattling off in French, which triggered nothing in my mind. I picked at my fingers while she yelled at me. Finally, Laura sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Eggs for Soufflé. Get eggs," she motioned to the fridge with her whisk.

I nodded rigidly and made my way to the fridge. My mother had taught me loads and loads of things about dessert gourmet and fancy dishes which she had learned from her time in fine dining restaurants. But she just had to fail telling me about the Soufflé, whatever that was.

Just then, an unexpected savior came into the kitchen.

Everybody froze like statues and settled their gazes on Walter Dale, smartly dressed in a tuxedo, who burst inside the kitchen. I tried hopping up and down lightly to at least get his attention and get me out of here.

Head chef squeezed through the people, muttering in Italian. "Ah, Mr. Dale," he looked nervous, "You didn't say you were coming here."

"For taste testing. I have to see how good the food is." Just with those words, three cooks laid three nicely plated dishes on the counter for Walter to examine. In my opinion, none of those could really fill a stomach.

I began to wind through the gathering crowd, so I could get nearer to Walter. Please come save me, I begged in my head, I was half hoping Jackson would swing by and save me but good enough. Walter, please.

As Head Chef rambled about the food I didn't know about, I finally got to the front. I subconsciously went up to Walter to at least share my situation here but then Head Chef crossed my line of vision.

I took a step back as the short man started shouting at me in Italian. That seemed to surprise Walter because he looked up. I mouthed the word 'help' but then yelped when the chef started smacking my hands with his ladle.

"Please don't yell at me in foreign, I don't have Google translate," I said timidly, backing up step by step.

"It's okay, Mr. Ricotti, she's with me," Walter finally piped up. Head Chef grumbled and handed me over to Walter. "Thank you for your time," Walter instantly dragged me out of the double doors. I only had enough time to wave a goodbye at Kit.

I stared in a daze at the ballroom when we got out. It was elegantly designed, classical music played and people were actually dancing. People really did that? I tried scanning everywhere for Jackson or Brennan, but no luck.

"Thank you so, so much, Walter," I turned back to Walter, "You have no idea how long I was in there."

He rubbed his chin, which was forming stubble, "Truth to be told, I wasn't really there for taste testing. Something gave me a feeling to check the kitchen. I guess I heard your silent calls of distress."

Something, or someone?

"Are you alright? You look so sweaty," he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. I started to decline, but he insisted. I noticed how sweaty I really was. It soaked the back of my blouse, my neck and even my legs were wet.

"No offense, Walter, but don't you have to be around greeting guests?" I asked him.

"That's what everyone expects me to do. Maira says to meet this and that when I don't even know their names. God, it's quite boring in here, don't you think?" He swept his hand at the view of the ballroom.

"So all you do here is talk and dance?" I knit my eyebrows together, "Wow, food must be the main attraction here."

He gave a laugh, "Yes, you're right. I have to go now, Ollie, before Maira hunts me down and forces me to socialize. Help yourself in the refreshments table."

"I will. Thanks again, Walter." He patted my head before leaving. The soiled handkerchief in my hand. My chocolate and vanilla, it must've been doused in expensive perfume before I soaked it with my sweat.

I shouldn't be a burden like this to the Dales.

It took me quite some time to find the refreshments table. Mostly because I was moving slow, with the heavy stares of the people. They were all clad in suits and tuxes and gowns yet here I was in slacks and a very sweaty blouse. I let my hair down and rubbed my face free of suffocating makeup so I could at least blend in.

I also went slowly because I was looking for the rest of the Dales. I saw Walter slip into conversation with a bearded man. Then, Maira was entertaining a group of ladies by the staircase. I also spotted Brennan playing piano, successfully avoiding people, but my sister was with him, doing the violin.

And Jackson. Jackson looked sexy wearing that tux, but it made me stifle a laugh how his hair was slicked back. Like first year Draco Malfoy slicked back. He was mingling with boys his age, but I could tell he was suffering too because he had a fake smile plastered.

Bump. Bump. Damn it, jackass, your looks made me bump to a stranger.

"Oh, God I'm so sorry. I –" I cut myself off when I saw the 'stranger' bumped into. My father was staring back at me, in slight shock.

He didn't acknowledge me. He merely said, "Watch where you're going." Then, he trudged to a table where Glenda was.

My memories went back to Walter's story. I haven't asked Dad about it, or Mom. I figured there was a right time. But Dad trained a hawk-like gaze on me, silently warning me about something. About getting my real job done.

Head hung low, I claimed my own table at the refreshments bar after getting juice.

There was nothing to do at the party. My eyes followed Jackson throughout the night as I sipped my orange juice but every now and then Brennan and Montana begged for my attention. Sometimes I took time to watch Dad, but he would respond with a cold gaze and that had me averting my gaze.

Later on, Walter delivered a speech which sounded so convincing. For the most part, I blocked it out, since it was only about the success of the company through the years. Whatever I will hear tonight, Dad also will.

Walter and Maira then put up a video with pictures of the company's birth, the successes and failures. Walter would narrate and everyone would clap their hands. I was starting to yawn continually nearing the end of the presentation.

Jackson Dale, my expected entertainer for the night, why aren't you here with me?

I didn't know how long should I stay. But I figured Maira and Walter were going to be too busy bidding goodbye to guests and shaking hands to even take care of me. I decided to just be a big girl and let myself out to the back exit.

My stomach was ravaging. Dinner. It wasn't served yet inside. Groaning to myself, I went back inside to wait for the free food.

And just my luck (no seriously, it was luck) I ran into Jackson coming back to the ballroom. "Sweets!" he sped towards me and pulled me into a hug. It was then I remembered his hideous hairdo.

When he pulled away, I could not do anything but laugh.

"You!" I sputtered out in between chokes of laughter, "Your – your hair!"

In a second, Jackson frowned and his hand went up to his head to mess up his hair to its former glory. It could only do so much because the hairspray was putting it in rigid place. I laughed harder.

"Not funny," he mumbled. I took the chance to kiss him on the cheek, ruffling his hair in place. Looked better now.

"Shouldn't you be in there – I don't know – dancing?" I asked him.

"I was leaving actually. This party is so boring," he replied.

"What?"

"Have you eaten?"

I shook my head, "No. Not really." My malnourished stomach was begging and going wild. I put a hand on my tummy to ease it.

"Wait here." And he was gone like that again. I leaned on the wall of the corridor, hands in my pockets and waited for him. Food, food. Please get me food. So hungry, I could sing the hungry song.

Soon, he came back holding two food takeout boxes. Jackson motioned for me to come with him. I followed him outside, where the night was dead and the road was empty. He plopped down on the sidewalk and I followed suit.

Jackson handed me one of the boxes as he shrugged off his jacket. "God, it was so stuffy in there. And don't make fun of my hair. Yours is . . . "

He tugged at one of my locks. "It's curly," he said in amazement.

"Yeah, that's its very temporary alter ego." I opened the box in suspense. Heaven greeted me. Fish fillet, baked potatoes, pork chops and pasta. None of that fine dining – the food they cooked literally could fit into a teacup.

And speaking of my hair, Mom had made it that way to give it some 'volume' and to let be 'curvy'. I recalled telling her that my hair wasn't geometry.

"Well, you look beautiful," Jackson complimented. I wasn't flattered. If he'd call me that when I'm in my Supernatural boxers, bra, and Castiel's coat, I'd be more impressed.

We began to eat. In a lonely sidewalk, with no spectators. I snorted, "This? It's not pretty, jackass. I want to take off my shirt because it's squeezing my insides."

"Don't take it off, then. You look thinner that way."

I faked a gasp. I slapped his arm, "Rude. So rude." I reached down and began to unclasp the pointless belt I was wearing. Jackson looked at me in panic.

"What are you doing? God, Ollie, if you take your pants off – "

"Don't pretend you don't like it," I teased, "And it's just the belt. I need to be free when I'm eating." I tossed the belt aside – across the street, I mean.

If Mom ever asked about it, I'd tell her it got lost.

I glanced at Jackson, "You can open your eyes now."

He only continued eating as I enjoyed his flustered expression. Why did it seem more comforting this way? Under a flickering streetlight, eating heavy dinner? For all I knew, a Creepypasta could jump out anywhere.

I sucked on my fingers, "Why are we here? Don't paparazzi park here or something?"

"I'm not going back there," he spat out in spite, "Those kids I was talking to – they are so frustrating. Showing off and all. I had to keep myself from hitting their heads. With a chair."

"Can you blame them? Who will ever take you seriously with that hair – "

He gave me a look.

". . . Sorry."

He cleared his throat and continued, "Anyway, it's what I do usually in Mom and Dad's parties. Go there in a tux, talk to people, eat, and leave. Meaningless."

"Ah, I agree with you. I swear those foreign chefs were ready to castrate me. Your Dad saved me, though. Looked like he wasn't enjoying the party that much."

Jackson turned to me and gave me a smile. A sincere one. He kissed the side of my head, "I had him get you, sweets. It was already hours and I haven't seen you yet out there. So I had Dad check up on you because I was stuck with this mob of sixteen-year-olds."

A smile made its way to my lips. Hero.

"I was worried what happened to you. This isn't your thing after all," he said, "I kept watching you the whole night."

Really? What a coincidence . . . I was preying on you the whole night, too.

I thought about my Dad. Was he as bored as me now? Were they already having dinner inside? And should I tell Jackson I saw him?

"Paps?" I asked Jackson warily.

"They're not here, sweets. They'll be up front, waiting for someone famous to come out. They don't come around here," he answered.

We ate and we ate some more. I asked him about Brennan, and he told me they had arrived early and Brennan fooled around with the grand piano. Montana had to follow him around and make sure he didn't mess anything up.

"I can't believe you bought this before you went here," I laughed, referring to the food. Almost finished now. I felt like burping.

"When you're dragged into lots of parties, you learn a thing or two," said Jackson, "I always buy dinner before going. The food served at the party makes me queasy. And they don't make me full."

"Is the dessert any good?" I wondered aloud. The Soufflé had me really curious. At least I knew it had eggs in it.

"Not really, the last time I tried one. But maybe we could get ice cream on the way home."

"It's twelve a.m. in the morning, Jackson. Where could our asses get ice cream?"

"This is the city. Pretty sure our asses could get ice cream anywhere."

I hummed, finishing off the last bite of my dinner. Satisfaction. I rested my head on Jackson's shoulder, but my neck strained. I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and savored this moment.

And then I burped.

Jackson began laughing. "I bet you can't top that," I challenged him, smirking.

He pulled off then a louder belch. I chuckled and pressed a kiss on his cheek again. I felt his face warm up. "You look beautiful in that tux, by the way," I said softly.

"No, don't say that. I hate this tux. It's too tight," he finished off his dinner finally and set the empty box on top of mine. Yes, he could finally touch me.

He pulled me towards him, wrapped one arm around my shoulders and his other hand held mine. My head was tucked under his chin. "Well then if you'd like, I could take them off," I suggested.

Smooth Oliver strikes again.

I didn't need to look at him but I knew he blushed. I chuckled a bit. Jackson was one heck of a guy. I pressed my face into his shirt, "Gross. Did you bathe in Axe this morning?"

"Urm," he squirmed, "I guessed I'd be sweaty the whole night. Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I'm totally okay with poison and testosterone invading my nostrils. Do go and swim into a lake of perfume for all I care," I said.

"I can never impress you, can I?"

"I told you, get naked."

Another blush. I threw my head back and laughed. Even his neck was cherry red. To save himself from further embarrassment, he stood up and offered me a hand. "Come on, we're going home. My home."

I frowned at the back door and then at him, "What about your parents? You can't just disappear like that." I took hold of his hand and let myself up.

He waved me off, "Trust me, they're used to it. I bring my car here so I don't have to wait up for them."

"What about my Mom? She'll wonder where I've gone to," I told him. My phone was tucked safely in purse but I knew Mom will have it ringing up with calls and texts by one a.m.

"Just tell her you'll be staying at mine. Please, sweets? Our house is nearer around here," he begged, "I want you with me tonight. And it's a Saturday anyway, please?"

I wanted to tell him I want to go with him, too. And so I nodded and gave in, "Okay, fine." He grinned widely and hugged me.

"Hey maybe we could get naked," I said as we walked down the street to the lot where he said his car was parked.

"Shut up, sweets."

♫ ♫ ♫