Page 44 of Late Bloomer
“Seriously,” Ophelia says, leveling me with a look. “Everyone has those crushing moments of insecurity. We’re all human.” She nudges Olivia out of the way, cupping my cheeks in her hands. “But you, my sweet sister, are one of the coolest, funniest, hottest pieces of ass to ever walk the planet. So I’m gonna need you to snap out of this pity party and go be the bad bitch you are, okay?”
I laugh in spite of myself, then nod.
“Good. Now, let’s go.”
They lead me to the center of the room, easily transitioning into Diksha and Alfie’s conversation while I scramble ontothe arm of the couch, sitting like a gremlin. I smile and laugh along, missing half of what everyone is saying as I continue to fidget with my hat, eyes regularly swerving to land on Pepper. She doesn’t look my way once.
With a sigh, I force myself to watch my sisters, the smooth ways they interact with these virtual strangers they so quickly turned into friends, the easy flow of their conversations. It all feels foreign to me. When I talk at parties, I feel like a golden retriever puppy desperate for attention, my brain bouncing around from idea to idea, voice too loud, comments unrelated.
After a while, Diksha stands, clapping her hands together.
“Cake time!” she calls, marching to the kitchen. She reappears a few moments later, arms stretched under a platter carrying a… a…
“Oh my God, what isthat?” Ophelia asks from her spot on the couch.
“It’s a foot cake,” Diksha says with a cackle, propping up the, uh, thing for us all to see.
I shoot a glance at Pepper for a bit more detailed explanation, but she has her head buried in her hands. “Feel free to elaborate,” I say to Diksha.
“Pepper has a foot thing,” Alfie says.
“… As in an eating-them type of thing?” Olivia asks.
Diksha laughs even harder.
“No,” Pepper groans, dragging her hands through her hair. “I literally don’t even know where this rumor started—”
“I do,” Alfie says with glee.
Pepper shoots him a look that’s equal parts scathing and teasing.
“A while back Pepper was picking our brains for a get-rich-quick scheme,” Alfie says, tilting his head conspiratorially toward Ophelia and Olivia. “I tried to talk her into selling foot pics online.”
“She ended up doing a bit too thorough of research,” Diksha cuts in. “Found her shell-shocked on the couch a few days later, way too many tabs of questionable websites open on her computer and a few viruses to go along with it.”
“And now I’m officially the ‘foot friend,’” Pepper concludes, twisting her face into the most exaggerated frown I’ve ever seen. It’s so cute I let out a tiny laugh. Pepper’s gaze flicks to me, and that deep frown curves into an almost smile.
“Where do you even find a cake like this?” Evens asks, viewing it from multiple angles with a mix of horror and artistic appreciation.
The level of detail is exceptional, somehow making a severed foot look… well… kind of beautiful. The toenails are painted aqua, a few delicate toe rings and an anklet adorning the structure.
“This amazing bakery in Philadelphia, actually,” Diksha says, pulling out plates. “It’s called Bernadette’s Bakery and they specialize in erotic goods. The owner, I think her name is Lizzie, started shipping specialty cakes when the business took off online. She usually does vulvas and stuff, but I called, and she was super excited to dip a toe—buh dum cha—into other body parts for our sweet Pepper’s party.”
“You really, truly, seriously shouldn’t have,” Pepper grumbles, the tips of her ears bright pink.
“No need to thank me!” Diksha says.
“I absolutely will not.”
“All right, birthday boo, you get the first slice. What’ll it be?”
“Anything but the toes,” Pepper says, scrunching up her nose.
“Gonna have to agree there,” Tal says, Ophelia nodding beside them.
“I’ll take the toes,” I say. Everyone’s eyes whip to me in horror. “I… It looks like it has the most icing…”
“Get your freak on, Opal. We aren’t here to judge,” Alfie says, passing me the lumpy slice Diksha cut. I splutter in protest, but a rough laugh cuts through, drawing my attention.
