Page 13 of Thorns and Ashes
Creating something from the handful of ingredients I had to work with, and seeing the result right in front of me, puts a real smile on my face and fills me with the first sense of accomplishment that I’ve had since I started working here. I did that.Me.I’m still smiling when Ainsley walks into the back.
“How’d that batch treat ya?” she asks, pushing through the swinging door with that breezy cheer she always has. She steps toward the table before stopping dead in her tracks as her eyes go wide.
Instantly, my smile drops. My arms cross over my chest like a reflex, and my face tightens. Her hand instinctively goes to play with one of the flowers in her long, dirty blonde hair, and it’s enough of a tell for me to know that something’s wrong.
“What’s that look for? They’re perfect. I even made them into cutelittle hearts!”
Ainsley flicks her gaze between me and the biscuits. Once. Twice. Three times. And on the third pass, her mouth twitches like she’s physically holding back laughter.
Laughter.
Atmybiscuits.
I worked so hard on these, and now she’s laughing at them? My throat prickles. I don’t get it. God forbid something I do turns out decent without the universe snickering about it. I bite the inside of my cheek, locking down the flash of hurt trying to climb its way up.
“Oh, Tris,” she says with so much sympathy that it practically drips off her words.
“What?” I say sharply, my anger boiling to the surface.
She gives me one more sympathetic smile before biting her bottom lip to hold back more laughter.
“What is it?!”
“Just—” She walks around the table and grabs me by the shoulders. When she tries to move me, I don’t budge. “Let me show you, Tris.”
After a beat, I concede and let her guide me to where she was standing.
“Now.” She backs up, positioning herself in my original spot. “Look down and tell me what you see.”
I glare at her, a show of defiance, before finally lowering my gaze. At first, I don’t see the problem, until it hits me like a paparazzi flash on a bad hair day.
“Oh my God, no!” I shriek, hands flying to cover my mouth. The anger and annoyance I’ve been harboring evaporates instantly, replaced with uncontrollable hysterics.
Ainsley joins in, and soon we’re both laughing so hard tears are streaming down our cheeks.
“I made ballsack biscuits!” I choke out between fits of laughter, barely able to catch my breath. “I can’t unsee this!”
We both laugh impossibly harder until it feels like we’ve used all the oxygen in the room.
“Maybe they taste better than they look? Theysmellgood,” Ainsley offers, reaching desperately for the bright side, if there is one. I’m... not convinced.
I slowly reach for one as she does the same.
“Cheers, to...” I look at the biscuit, then at Ainsley. “To officially going nuts.”
We laugh harder as we cheer our heart-shaped ballsack biscuits together and take a bite.
It only takes three chews, maybe two, to realize that something went terribly wrong. Ainsley is trying so hard not to spit hers out that it’s comical. Honestly, watching her fight for her life over this biscuit makes me like her even more.
“They’re not bad,” she forces out between slow, painful chews.
I watch, by some miracle, as she swallows it. Mine? Still sitting in my mouth.
I reach for a paper towel and spit my bite straight into it. “They’re so awful,” I laugh.
“Okay, I lied. They’re so bad. Back home, we’d be callin’ in the chickens because this is not meant for people,” Ainsley admits sheepishly, but is cracking up.
“Can I still tell people they’re nut-free?” I ask before breaking into a fit of laughter again, because what else can I do?
