'You can't tell me that you don't wish your body looks like hers.'

Glaring at Kyra as I scrolled through her Instagram, I murmured, "What the fuck does she have that I don't?"

Apart from big hips, ass, and boobs...

Tightening my grip on my phone, I took a screenshot of one of her posts, then sent it to Nabila along with my picture.

After that, I typed, 'Be honest: do you think her body is better than mine?'

She didn't reply for a few moments, during which my breath quickened as I stared at my message.

Shortly after she read it, she replied, 'No, your bodies are both nice in their ways.'

Exactly!

I sent back, 'Yeah, that's what I thought. Thanks.'

'Where is this coming from though?'

I sighed. 'I don't really want to discuss it.'

'Alright. If you ever want to, I'm next door.'

I smiled. 'Thanks.'

Putting away my phone, I walked over to my mirror and raised my shirt. I grumbled as I appraised my body, "'Wish my body looks like hers', yeah right! Why the fuck would he even say something so stupid?"

Maybe he thinks there's something wrong with my body...

"Nabila said my body is just as good as hers. Plus, Angelo has never complained about it before today."

But do I really think Nabila would tell me if my body looks bad? She's way too nice for that. And Angelo may have always thought this, but just never said anything beforehand. Maybe he decided to be honest today because I told him I wouldn't have sex with him. I should hit the gym a little less and focus on gaining more weight-

"Aargh, stop!" I shook my head, then marched over to my closet and put on a crop top. I grabbed my phone after and took several mirror pictures of myself.

After selecting the best one, I posted it on my Snap story with the caption, 'Working on that summer body'.

. . .

By evening, I'd gotten many responses praising my body, from guys and girls alike. I replied to all of them politely, smiling as I did so. Some guys tried to continue the conversation, but I ignored them.

I smirked when I noticed that Angelo had seen my story. If you aren't going to appreciate my body, others will.

There was a knock at my door.

I asked, "Who is it?"

Precious replied, "It's me."

I bristled, glaring at the door. "Oh. What do you want?"

"I'm not here to fight, I promise."

"Okay, that still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"I'm here to apologize."

I frowned, but walked over to the door and opened it. "Well? Go ahead."

She walked in. After closing my door, she cleared her throat. "Look I...I've been thinking about what I said, and I realize that I overstepped. I'm sorry. You're right - your situation is none of my business, and you know your guy better than I do. If you're okay with him, then that's fine."

Folding my arms, I narrowed my eyes at her. She stiffened, looking away.

After a few seconds, I sighed. "Apology accepted. As long as you don't pull that shit again, we're cool."

She looked at me, brightening. "I won't! I'm glad we can put this behind us."

"Yeah, me too."

"Well, I'll leave you alone now." She opened my door, then looked back at me. "Oh, the next Cuisine club meeting is on Monday, just in case you forgot. Miguel is choosing the recipe, so we're working at his place."

Great.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Can't wait."

"Good, looking forward to seeing you there. Later!"

After she left, I dropped onto my bed, sighing. Ironic how she's apologizing for what she said when I'm starting to see her point.

. . .

"Ladies, come in! You're both the last to arrive."

I groaned mentally but smiled at Miguel as I entered his apartment. "Hi."

He grinned. "Nice seeing you here. Please, make yourself at home."

"I will."

Ugh, I can't wait to be out of here!

He turned to Precious, sighing. "Miss President, shouldn't you have been here before anyone else?"

"Take a breath mint then i'll answer you."

I snickered.

He gasped exaggeratedly, blocking her path. "You dare make fun of me in my home? Out, now!"

She shoved past him, giggling. "Oh go make yourself useful and let us know what we're making."

"Everyone else already knows." He led us into the kitchen, where the other club members were gathered. "Take a guess?"

I looked at the dozens of cupcake liners laying on his counter, then smiled at him. "Pizza?"

"I see you've got jokes." He grinned at me. "I'll love to hear some more later in priv-"

Precious rolled her eyes, eliciting a yelp from Miguel as she yanked his ears. "How about you focus less on flirting and more on telling us what to do?"

I giggled.

He whined, "You could have just said that! Anyways, as you all know, we'll be making cupcakes. Well, you all will-"

"Miguel!" Precious protested.

Grinning, he wagged a finger at her. "Ah ah ah, I'm in charge of today's session, remember?"

"No, I am! Your job is only to provide the recipe and guide us through it."

"Which I will be doing from the sidelines-"

"No, you won't!"

"Actually," I piped up, "I think he should work on the sidelines. Who knows what he may do to the batches if we force him to work?"

"Yes, exactly!" He grinned at me. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." After all, the fewer people who bake, the more I get to do.

Frowning, Precious nodded. "Fine. But Miguel, you better guide us properly, understand?"

He saluted. "Yes ma'am! Alright everyone, go wash your hands and report back here stat!"

. . .

As Precious predicted, Miguel didn't do much- he pulled up a recipe from online for the rest of us, then turned his attention to his phone and a beer.

Nevertheless, we got to work. Precious took on Miguel's role, dividing up duties between the other club members. I took on a supervisory role although I was new to the club, flitting between divisions and helping out where I could. Under our guidance, the cupcakes were in the oven 20 minute later.

After we'd finished, Miguel clapped. "Great job everyone! Now, who's up for a game of drunk Uno?"

"Drunk Uno?" Someone asked.

I replied, "It's pretty self-explanatory."

"So that's your plan," Precious deadpanned, crossing her arms, "Lure us into your apartment and indoctrinate us into your world of booze."

Grinning, Miguel waved his arms. "Damn, you got me. Anyways, who's playing?"

Precious looked at the rest of us. "Anyone here who doesn't drink?"

. . .

I wasn't wrong about the Uno game's nature - in the 15 mins it took for the cupcakes to bake, we'd all gone from awkwardly hanging around each other to laughing, shouting messes. I was probably one of the people who'd drunk the least in the room, and I was slightly buzzed. On the opposite end of the spectrum was Miguel, who'd drunk so much that I was surprised he was still functional.

When the oven went off, Miguel stumbled up. "Alright, I'll gerrit."

I shook my head, standing as well. "I'll come with you. I don't trust you not to drop it."

He grinned, "Even berrer!"

I groaned but still followed him into the kitchen. However, the smell of the cupcakes washed away my reservations as I opened the oven.

After I set the cupcakes down, I took off the oven mitts and turned to Miguel. "We should let it cool down for a bit before adding the ic- what are you doing?"

Miguel, who had been licking icing off his finger, asked, "What?"

"Did you dip that finger into the bowl?"

"Oh nooo," he laughed. "The spoon."

I sighed. "Oh, that's good."

Picking up the spoon from the bowl, he held it towards me. "Try it."

"I have."

"Welltryitagainitsreallygood."

I furrowed my brow. "What?"

"Comeonnn." Pouting, he waved the spoon at me. "Pleassse?"

Despite myself, I smiled. He's kinda cute when drunk.

"Fine." I swabbed icing off the spoon, then licked it. My eyes lit up as the cold vanilla melted in my mouth. Hold up, why does it taste even better now?

He laughed. "Like it?"

I shrugged. "It's alright."

"Alright? It's greattt! By the way, youhavesomeonyourlips."

"Speak English, please."

He sighed. "Nevermind, I'll gerrit."

Clumsily, he leaned forward and kissed me.

. . .

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