Page 44 of False Comeback

And I was pretty sure she didn’t really know anything about me. Didn’t know that I was a professional wrestler. Didn’t know I competed in roller derby. Didn’t know I was gay. I’d told her all those things in the past, obviously, but if she wasn’t interested in something, she didn’t take it in. And she wasn’t interested in me.

The last time she’d shown up had been several weeks ago now, but I remembered it well, because I’d been stressed as fuck wondering if I’d get home from work each night to find a bunch of strangers getting drunk in my house. That had been when I’d snapped during rehearsal with Dan, screaming at Crossbody to fuck off because I could hear him chuckling every time I fucked up a move.

I’d been tense and edgy and sleep-deprived, and I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone why. It was no one’s business but mine. Even Dan didn’t know about my fucked-up relationship with my mom. He just thought she wasn’t around much because we weren’t close.

“Well, let’s try this croquembouche then, huh?” Rob said, snapping me back to the present as he set down his can and stood.

“Sure.” I eyed him in amusement as he tried to slide the platter off the counter without tipping the entire thing. He gave up after a few seconds with a grunt.

“I’ll just bring you a plate.”

“I’ll get it.” I stood and joined him at the counter, staring at the mountain of cream puffs. Several more had slipped off and splatted on the counter while we’d been talking. “Uh, so do we just…”

“Don’t know how we’re meant to eat it.” Rob scrubbed a hand over his jaw, cocking his head. “Maybe just… pull them off? Like monkey bread.”

I groaned, my mouth practically watering. “Oh man, you should’ve made monkey bread.”

“Monkey bread isn’t classy.” He nudged me with his elbow and nodded at the croquembouche. “Do the honours, son.”

With a chuckle, I reached up and carefully pulled a cream puff away from the cone. It wobbled a little, making us both freeze and hold our breaths. When the tower didn’t topple over, Rob turned to look at me expectantly, so I stuffed the entire thing into my mouth.

Which I immediately regretted.

I chewed slowly, my cheeks bulging, and asked in a muffled voice, “Uh, is the… stuff inside meant to still be warm?”

And taste like burnt shit?

Rob grunted. “Well, no, but I got bored waiting for the pastry cream to cool down, so I figured it would just finish cooling down inside the puffs.”

“Uh-huh,” I managed, trying not to wince as I finally swallowed my mouthful. But I didn’t want to discourage him, so I said, “It’s good.”

“Not bad for a first attempt, eh?” He reached out and plucked a cream puff for himself.

Which made the entire thing tip.

Acting on reflex, I stuck a hand out to stop it and ended up with cream puffs showering over my arm as the croquembouche toppled over. They exploded on contact, splattering pastry cream over my neck and T-shirt.

“Well, shit,” Rob said, munching on his puff.

“Guess that one was a… load-bearing cream puff,” I said, tipping my hand so the one stuck to my palm slowly peeled off and landed on the counter. “Why are there sharp bits?”

“That’s the caramel… thing.” Rob waved a vague hand. “That’s meant to keep it all together.”

“Well, it worked for a while.” I grabbed the dish cloth to wipe congealing yellow cream off my arm. “Pretty good first attempt, I’d say. Especially if you’re a beginner. But maybe you could make your pickleball lady friend some cookies instead. Work your way up to the intricate French showpiece desserts.”

“Cookies aren’t fancy, Vin.”

“Will she care?” I asked doubtfully. “If she likes you? You’re not fancy either.”

Rob rubbed his moustache, not seeming to realise there was a smear of pastry cream in it. “I guess that’s true.”

“You should definitely keep learning to bake, though,” I said, trying to get the stains off my T-shirt. “And make me monkey bread.”

He chuckled, patting my side. “It’s next on my list, Vin. Anyway, how’s work?”

An image of Crossbody tied to the corner post of the main ring flashed in my mind, naked and writhing and begging with his cock in my mouth. I coughed and retreated to the table to grab my beer. “Fine.”

“Just fine?”