Page 65 of Strawberry Kisses

He’d found me in the studio on Saturday morning, lying on the floor again as I tried to think about how to put Taylor’s demands into action. I wanted to tell Patrick in a spectacular, slightly over the top but not cringeworthy way—a grand gesture straight out of the cheesiest, sweetest romcom or romance novel. The only problem was I didn’t have a team of writers to design this shit for me. I just had my brain, which was failing miserably by suggesting the highly normal “make him dinner” and the probably too far in the opposite direction “give him a lap dance”.

Levi had arrived, taken one look at me and promptly opened his mouth to say, “I was thinking of doing a summer showcase at the end of August. Can you help me plan?” Whether he’d been considering it up until he’d voiced the idea was another matter entirely.

“Are you still thinking dinner?” Levi asked. He’d managed to get the full story out of me over the weekend, not that I’d taken much convincing to spill. He’d voted for the dinner, but in his words I should “make it extra”. Extra was definitely something I could do.

“Yeah, I asked him what time he finishes work tomorrow, and he’s just doing lunch service, so he’ll be home by three since it’s Tuesday, and there’s no afternoon tea. So I was thinking I’d text him and ask him to come over about six.”

“Sounds perfect, babe.” Levi grinned. “I’m guessing you won’t be in the studio Wednesday morning for your usual practice?”

“Nope. If I’m very lucky, I’ll be in bed with a beautiful man, and I don’t plan on getting up until noon.”

“Just as long as you’re in Wednesday afternoon to teach and not covered in hickeys,” Levi said.

“That’s what foundation is for, babe.” I laughed. “And if all else fails, I’ll just tell people I’ve been working on shoulder mounts.”

Levi nodded. Shoulder mounts were notorious for leaving the worst bruises on your neck and shoulders if you practised them too much. In fact, all of pole left hideous bruises. The worst ones I’d ever had had been in my early days when I was practising for my first competition. I’d been bruised up and down my inner thighs. My boyfriend at the time hadn’t been impressed, and it had taken me an hour to convince him they weren’t hickeys from someone else. Well, it had taken an hour before I’d lost my patience and booted him out of bed. Seriously, why would someone suck hickeys onto the backs of my knees?

We chatted for a little longer, and then Levi helped me assemble and ice the cake. Apparently his mistrust of my baking went as far as not believing I could spread icing out of a tub without fucking it up somehow. After that he left me alone with my thoughts, saying he had a date to get to.

I opened the fridge and stared at the finished cake. It was like an omen of my impending doom. But as much as it frightened me, it also gave me tangible hope for the first time.

Now I just had to put the rest of my plan into action.

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