The Desire Variable | Rewrite

⸻ THIRTY-EIGHT ⸻

"What could I do to thank Oli?" Kate asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor by her cat's basket. It's Sunday, and we're back at her place. Today, Oli handles the Stefano problem, and all we have to do is wait patiently for him to finish.

"What do you mean? Like a blowjob?"

"You bitch! No, I meant something like cookies or cupcakes or anything."

"He has a sweet tooth, so he might actually appreciate that a lot," I say after giving it a quick thought.

"Okay, great. I think I have everything I need. Will you help me? It'll be like old times."

With her irresistible blue eyes, she begs me to agree. Honestly, I can't refuse her anything when she looks at me like that. And anyhow, it'll be a great way to keep ourselves distracted. I give in with a nod, and Kate quickly settles her pet back into his basket before standing up as if mounted on springs.

I follow her to her kitchen, amused by how excited she is. "Oh God, I hope I remember how to do this," she says, heading to the sink to wash her hands.

"What do you mean? You're like, the queen of baking."

Back in high school, Kate always cooked for her cheerleading squad to support charities, raise awareness, or do fundraisings... I was always there to help, even though I mostly ended up licking the bowls or trying whatever she needed me to taste.

Kate grimaces and avoids my gaze, taking out some of the necessary utensils. "I haven't baked in at least six months," she confesses.

"Oh, wow. Has work been that intense?"

"Actually, it is because of—No, you'll get mad at me."

"I promise I won't. Tell me, Kay."

"It was...Stefano. I gained a few pounds earlier this year because I was stress-baking. And he noticed, so he told me I was getting fat and should be careful."

I think she's joking at first, but then I notice the shame in her eyes. "Wait, are you for real right now?" I ask, incredulous.

"You promised you wouldn't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at him. What the actual fuck? You gained two pounds, so he told you you were getting fat? When you have the body of a fucking model?!"

"It was over six pounds, actually."

"Babe, no! Don't try to justify his assholeness. Oh my God. I'm two seconds away from calling it off with Oli and hiring a hitman instead. That fucking prick, I can't believe it. Please, at least tell me he was good in bed."

"He was acceptable. I mean, most times, it was good. But yeah, I had to finish myself off in the shower now and then," she confesses.

"Okay, you know what? That's it. You're grounded from dating. The next guy you'll want to date must go through me first. I'll set up a thorough interview and make sure he actually deserves you before you're allowed to do anything with him."