F is for Frosting

[parallax23]

FROSTING

 

Max stared perplexedly at the trendy china plate in front of her.

Dinner at Logan’s was always something to be savored. For a girl who spent her life eating only what she could steal or whatever happened to be sold at some back alley stand, this was an absolute gift from the fates. He was a master at manipulating tomatoes into sauces, pasta into a gourmet meal, and choosing the right wine to compliment it all.

Yes, dinner was always magnificent.

Dessert? Well, that was a different story.

Logan wasn’t a big fan of sweets, so usually dessert would involve fruit that the markets happened to have in stock that week. It was never pudding or ice cream – even a box of Little Debbie cakes would do, she wasn’t that fussy. But in her imagination, dessert was often the best part of the meal. It was supposed to be the grand finale, the decadent treat that was supposed to balance out the practicality of the health conscious dinner.

Dessert wasn’t a necessity, but it was one of those small indulgences in life that Max thought tasted almost as good as freedom.

“Is something wrong?” asked Logan as he sat across from her with his fork in his hand.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong… It’s just – what is this?”

Logan gave her a confused look. “It’s cake, Max.”

“Since when do you eat cake?” She just kept staring at it. Something was off but she couldn’t tell what.

“Well, I figured that you liked cake so I decided to make one,” he said simply.

“Oh,” she answered and picked up her fork. Then it dawned on her. “Where’s the frosting?”

Their eyes met anxiously, then they both looked back down at their plates.

“I don’t like frosting. It’s too sweet, has too many calories. I try to avoid it,” he told her. Then in trying to make light of the situation, he added, “Not everyone has a super high metabolism.”

Max nodded and dug into it with her fork.

Who ate chocolate cake without frosting?

It seemed obscene.

But Logan had gone to the trouble, the least she could do was to eat it.

Unsatisfying mouthful after unsatisfying mouthful, she kept hoping that at some point she would find the fluffy, sugary goodness her tongue craved. But she didn’t. The cake was moist and delicious and definitely lacking that final touch.

“Why don’t you take the rest of it?” Logan suggested when they were done. “I won’t eat it.”

“Sounds good,” Max said as he packed the rest of the cake for her to take home.

Free cake was still free cake. Now all she needed was some frosting.

The stores were closed at this hour, and she was in no mood for breaking and entering simply for a tub of frosting. Where could she find frosting at this hour?

“Max?” came Alec’s confused voice from the couch as she walked into his apartment and made a beeline for the fridge. She put the plastic container down on the counter.

“Alec.”

She had thought he would have gone to Crash at this hour, and that she’d have some time to raid his fridge before he brought home his latest conquest. Great, now she’d have to share. Bastard. Maybe if she ignored him…

Alec didn’t stop paying attention to her though. She had brought something with her and she was going through his fridge. How dare she? That was one of the few sacred things in his life. Plus she was breaking several of the rules he kept for visiting females left and right, like Alec was the center of the universe, No touching the fridge, and All fridge privileges come after lots of inappropriate touching of Alec.

But this was Max, and she never knocked or bothered with invitations. She would just barge right in, like he did with her place. Manticore etiquette they supposed. Besides, if he ever did try to enforce the rules he knew that the inappropriate touching would leave him in a world of hurt.

Bodily injury be damned, he wanted to know what she was up to.

Alec walked over to the counter and opened the container as Max glanced through the fridge.

“What is this?”

“Cake.”

“There’s no frosting. What kind of sick, evil person brings cake with no frosting?” Then he laughed. “Oh wait, it’s you.”

She turned away from the fridge to glare at him. “Logan made it. I came here to see if you had some frosting since nowhere else is open at this hour.”

“Ah,” he said with a knowing smile. “And what do I get in return?”

Shutting the fridge door, she said, “Nothing. You don’t have any. No thanks for playing.”

The smile didn’t fade, but grew wider as he opened the cupboard beside him and took out an unopened can of frosting. Dark chocolate frosting. “I was saving this for a special occasion… and/or a really adventurous brunette. But I guess we could use it on cake.”

Max rolled her eyes. “What makes you think you’re getting any?”

“My frosting.”

“Do you have sprinkles too?”

Reaching into the same cupboard again, he pulled out a small container of the Jimmies she liked and waved it in front of her.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

He offered her a cheap paper plate and plastic fork. He wasn’t big on doing dishes.

They split the cake in half, not bothering to appropriate slices for future consumption. They could eat that much in an entire sitting without so much as an afterthought.

Max had taken first dibs on toppings. She used up almost half the can of frosting along with two thirds of the sprinkles. Alec scowled that he had so little left to work with, dabbing the remainder of the frosting on his cake and dumping on the rest of the sprinkles.

She had watched him adding on the frosting, not caring if it was too much. Alec was the sort of guy who ate his dessert first and dinner last if the mood suited him. He’d once eaten two boxes of Twinkies and called it dinner, and though he had given four to Joshua, he didn’t offer any to her.

“Cake’s not bad. I prefer store bought though,” he commented, then he noticed that she had gotten some frosting on her face. A wicked smirk crossed his face.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”

“I got some on my face, didn’t I?”

The horrified look on her face amused him to no end. She reached for a napkin, but his lips were faster. A quick lick removed the offending smear.

“No need to waste it,” he said in a cool tone, pulling away from her. The truth was that he’d done it without thinking, and was now internally panicking that she would now have to beat him six ways from Sunday.

Instead, she looked at him perplexedly.

Then with a quick movement of her hand, a smear of frosting appeared on his nose.

“Of course not,” Max replied, with a devilish smile he never saw on her face before as she leaned in closer to him.

“I knew I was saving this for an adventurous brunette.”