Page 37 of Show Off

Cassidy looks from Dal to me. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I just got a contact high from the pheromones.”

Dal clears his throat. “You’re sure that’s not the stench of death?”

“It’s nothing.” I hate how obvious I am. How even Cassidy sees I’m hot for Dal.

Not that he looks so stoic. His eyes are unfocused and fixed on my chest. Shaking his head, he seems to pull back from a trance.

“Found something!” Jimmy strides out of the kitchen with some colorful fabric bunched under one arm. “There wasn’t much that looked like it would fit you, but this should work.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“No prob.” He sets down his tray and hands me what looks like a tie-dyed sweatshirt. As I unfurl the fabric, I spot a cartoon crustacean stitched on the chest. There’s a gigantic hole in one shoulder, and beside that a sticky glue stain. At least, I hope that’s glue.

“It’s clean,” he says, and I muster some gratitude.

“Thank you.” I shake it out and read the words printed over the boobs.I got crabs at Fresh Catch.“It’s perfect.”

“Restroom’s in the corner if you want to change.” He doles out our drinks, and the stench makes my eyes water. “Who’s ready for food?”

Cass checks her phone. “Jake’s on his way. Can we wait just a couple minutes?”

“No problem.” Jimmy hands Dal his beer, and the surly chef buries his nose in the stein. Smart man.

I hoist my kombucha to sip, but I end up dipping the tip of my nose in red liquid. “Guh!” I grab for the napkins and press a wad to my face.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy looks concerned.

“Fine.” My eyes water and I gulp a few filtered breaths through the napkins.

Cassidy coughs beside me. She’s either laughing or choking to death.

Dal’s shaking his head as he picks up his menu. “How’s the baked crab dip appetizer?”

“Amazing.” Jimmy leans in to point at the menu and I nearly pass out. “The popcorn shrimp is really good, too.”

“Crab dip, please.” Dal’s voice sounds strained, and he uses the menu to fan off the stink. Not subtle, but it gets the job done.

“I’ll be right back.” Jimmy strides away, and I gulp a big lungful of air.

“Still think your method’s better?” Dal sets down the menu.

“Shut up.”

Cassidy picks up the sweatshirt. “I guess you should put this on.”

“Not fair.” Dal looks longingly toward the restroom. “You get to escape the stench.”

“Fine.” I’ll prove I’m a team player. “I’ve got this.”

I wriggle the hoodie over my sweater. It’s so ginormous that it swallows me up like an ugly dragon. Dragging the zipper to my neck, I pull my hands inside the sweatshirt through the arm holes.

“What are you doing?” Dal asks warily.

“Changing,” I say, working the buttons to take off my sweater. The hoodie keeps me covered, so this shouldn’t be a problem. “Every Hollywood kid can do a speedy costume change without breaking a sweat.”

Dal stares, mesmerized. “Should this be turning me on?”

“No.”

---