Page 20 of Your Sharpest Edge
Fuck. What was I doing? I was making excuses for a piece of shit I’d wanted to fight earlier.
“You need to know, if at any point you want to talk, I’ll always be here for you.” I kept thinking about how my mother and father would fight and how my dad constantly cheated on my mom. I remembered how devastated she was, and I prayed Anastasia wasn’t feeling that same pain. I hated sweets, but I’d eat every cookie or treat she baked, hoping it was enough to show her she wasn’t alone.
“Again, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, still not looking in my direction.
It was enough apologizing. I preferred her in my space. I wanted her here as a friend. It was simple, and if I didn’t forgive her then I’d lose her.
I gestured to the Tupperware she’d brought. “What’s on the menu for tonight?”
She looked down and let out a small chuckle before she pulled off the lid. “I didn’t have time to cook before he left so...” She shoved it in my direction, and I walked over to her to look at what it was.
I lifted the container and narrowed my eyes to make sure I was seeing it correctly.
I grabbed a slippery, yellow piece of food and held it up. When I realized what it was, I burst into laughter, dropping the container of pineapple onto the counter and clutching my stomach.
“Stop it.” Anastasia joined in on the laughter as she held her own stomach, leaning against the corner of the island. “It took me so much longer to cut than baking some damn cookies, too.”
I collapsed to the floor, my stomach cramping from the intensity of the laughter. It felt like I hadn’t laughed this hard in years. “You—” I attempted to say but was interrupted by Anastasia’s face buried in her hand, her body shaking with laughter.
I paused, recognizing the pure joy in the moment. It was nothing but gentle, kind, joy, and it reminded me why I kept opening the door to the girl who never rang the bell.
“I can’t believe you cut up pineapple to spell ‘sorry,’” I finally managed to say, letting my head roll back to gently rest on the wooden base of the island.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “I tried to look up the best apology food, but that’s not like a thing, and it kept redirecting me to this website where this fruit delivery service can do this. They had this fruit in a bouquet on the website, but I only had the pineapple on the counter...”
I shook my head in disbelief and scooted over on the ground, patting the spot next to me. “Get down here and bring that cut fruit.”
She shook her head, but grabbed the container and joined me on the floor.
I held out my hand. “Well, give it to me.”
She held out the container, and I picked up thesand took a bite of it.
“Wow,” I said exaggeratedly as I licked the fruit, swirling it into my mouth as if it was the best fucking meal I’d ever have. “This is better than the taste of pussy.”
“Alex,” Anastasia screeched and then playfully slapped me on the shoulder and pulled away the container. “This was stupid.”
“Did talking about pussy make your cheeks red, or was it the fact?—”
She held up her hands, her blush creeping down her neck. “Stop saying that,” she said and then looked down at the open container.
I grabbed theofrom inside the Tupperware and took a bite out of it. “Still tastes like p?—”
“Alex.” She scolded me again.
“I was going to say pineapple.” I chuckled.
“Yeah, right.” She shook her head, and then we each took anr, still sitting on the floor in now a comfortable silence.
“This was good,” I said, my mouth full of the fruit.
She sighed, and when I looked at her, she was looking down at the container.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I really needed this. I was worried today.”
“Worried?” I asked.
