My eyebrows scrunch at him and I mouth, stop. I know his plan won’t work. Daisy won’t eat if she feels like our mother’s going to scold her for it.
Ryke keeps the spoon in his mouth and he glares back at me. Then he points at Daisy’s plate. I sigh heavily and slide it in front of her.
“Oh no,” she says to me, “you are not in on his stupid plan.”
“You love chocolate,” I remind her.
“I love a lot of things I can’t have,” she says pointedly.
True. I shrug at Ryke, giving up already. I’m not so resilient. Ryke, on the other hand…
“Daisy,” he coos, waving his spoon around the air to try to get her to look at him. She barely stirs. He tries a different tactic. He dips two fingers into the gooey chocolate filling. No, I internally scream in my head. He’s not going to…
My eyes widen and my mouth falls as his fingers rise to his lips. What the fuck is he doing?! Ryke…needs to stop pushing the line with her. He might find it amusing, but I’m afraid she’ll take his teasing as a sign of something…more. This. Isn’t. Good.
Daisy frowns at my expression, and she follows my gaze for the first time. Ryke puts his two （not-so chaste） fingers in his mouth. I am screaming at him in my head. Even as he sucks the gooey ganache off, he shuts his eyes, faking a fucking chocolate orgasm just so she’ll eat the damn cake.
Daisy snorts and tilts back a little farther in her chair to act all cool and composed. And then, the legs begin to slip underneath her. I gasp, picturing her smacking backwards on the ground. But Ryke is faster than my frozen joints. His eyes have already snapped open. He reaches out and grabs the top of her chair, setting both of them on four legs at the same time.
My sister puts her hands on the table, leaning forward as though a rollercoaster just flung to an abrupt stop. She looks winded and stunned all at the same time.
Ryke barely misses a beat. He pushes an extra spoon in front of her.
And to my surprise, she actually picks up the silverware and scoops a big bite of cake on it. She hesitates for a second.
“It’s not arsenic,” he says.
Her lips rise in a small smile. “Your hips also don’t have to be measured in the morning.”
“They can be,” he tells her. “Will you eat the fucking cake if I measure my hips?”
“And your ass,” she says.
“You want to know the size of my ass?” His brow rises.
“Yep.”
“Eat the cake.”
She hides her growing smile and takes a large bite. She closes her eyes and sinks back into her chair, relaxing more than before and melting into chocolate heaven. “I wish I could eat this every day.”
“You can, but then you’d be ‘fat.’” He uses air quotes.
“The tragedy,” she says, pushing around the rest of her cake and smashing it until it’s a mushy lump.
“Okay, enough abusing the fucking dessert.”
“Do you always say fuck?” she asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever been around you where you haven’t said it at least once.”
“What can I say? It’s my favorite fucking word.” He flashes a dry smile.
“You know what’s scary,” she says, pointing her spoon at him. “You’re a journalism major, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be a wordsmith?”
“Shouldn’t you be a voiceless mannequin?” he retorts back.
“Touché.” With this, she takes another bite, but since her dessert is a pile of goo, she steals a piece of mine.
I can’t concentrate on Daisy anymore, not when Rose springs from her chair, following my mother who suddenly stands and motions to her with an icy finger.
I scoot from my chair, tailing them as they head towards a lounge room for special guests, meaning family. A presence weaves behind me, keeping up with my pace. I glance over my shoulder and see the All-American build, the swept brown hair, the ugly blue eyes—I hate him. I wish he’d leave me alone.
But Aaron Wells isn’t going to stop me from being there for my sister. Not when she’s been around for me. I shut the door behind me as I enter the lounge area, which is filled with buttoned couches, a mini-bar, and a couple queen-style chairs. Nothing too fancy except the chandelier in the center and the gold wallpaper.
Jonathan Hale and my father sit on one of the navy couches, whiskeys in hand. They only look up when I drift farther into the room and away from the door. Aaron should be here in a matter of minutes.