Page 72 of Desserts for Stressed People

“Yes. I don’t have my car. I took two trains and a cab.”

Quickly turning away, Shane bursts out laughing.

“What!” I exclaim, shoving his arm.

“I can’t believe that you’d spend your Friday night taking two trains to this place after you’ve worked, what, twelve hours a day for the past week?” He bursts into another laugh. “What point are you trying to prove, Heaven?”

Riley is short of eating popcorn as she enjoys the show we are putting on, her gaze dancing from him to me like she won’t miss a second of this movie.

Pushing my chin up, I flip my attention to the stage. “That I’m perfectly qualified for this task, despite you seeming to be convinced otherwise.”

“And how are you planning on getting back home?”

“None of your concern, Mr. Hassholm.”

“How, Heaven?”

Cocking my head, I shrug. “Well, I won’t be swimming back. I took a train to come, I’ll take one back to the city.”

His eyes thin up, a wide smirk stretching across his face. “I think you just missed the last one,” he says with a previously unheard level of joyfulness in his voice. “The next one is at six a.m.”

Fuck. How does a control freak like me miss out on such a fundamental detail? And what does he know about it anyway? Does he have all train schedules imprinted to memory?

I purse my lips, trying to find a plausible answer that won’t make him win, but short of, “I have my own train,” I can’t think of anything.

And he bursts out laughing again.

“I’ll take an Uber.”

He nods. “Sure you will. You’ll find a whole caravan of them at this hour, so far out of the city.”

“Oh, Shane. Stop it.” Riley waves him off, then points at the seats in front of us for him to sit. “He’ll drive you back, Heaven.”

I’m not driving back anywhere with him. Not after the way he’s treated me the whole week, and especially not after he laughed at me twice in five minutes. But we all sit, Shane sliding onto the chair between his sister and me—I have a feeling that’s not by chance.

“I’d be happy to drive Heaven back, as soon as she admits defeat.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Are you fourteen years old?” she scoffs.

“Defeat?” I glare. “I won’t admit defeat over anything at all. I’m here, am I not? The only one who’s been defeated is you.”

When Riley mumbles something about usactuallybeing fourteen, Shane’s so smug even his pretty face looks punchable. “You’re basically homeless until tomorrow morning, unless I drive you back.”

“I’ll just call someone to pick me up. You’re not the only person in the world with a car, you know?” I mumble with an eye roll. “Save your hero complex for someone else.”

“Well, then, problem solved. Maybe yourboyfriendwill spare you some of his.”

That shuts me up as I look at the stage, praying my tears won’t come. Now, I wish I didn’t come here at all. Instead, I’m stuck with him for the next two hours, listening to some boring jazz band.

And so it starts. A lot of saxophone, bass, and light drums. All it does is almost cradle me to sleep, but the rest of the people in the room seem to appreciate the band. I am not even sure how they know when one song is over and the other one’s starting. To me, it all sounds the same, like a lullaby. After the long day and little sleep I’ve had, Shane’s shoulder is looking like the perfect place to rest my head and close my eyes for a minute.

“Do you want something to drink?” Riley taps my arm, raising her voice over the music and dragging me away from my daydreaming.

In a second, I perk up. This is my chance. “Sure, I’ll come with you.”

Shane moves his sister’s arm away from mine. “No, no, you’re not. I don’t need you alone with my sister. Riley can’t shut her trap.”

Riley gasps, and they start bickering. I can’t hear too much of it because of the music, but I hear a “dramatic” and an “immature” being thrown around, and with a pout, his sister finally walks to the bar alone.

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