“Would you like to know a secret?”

“I would like to know all of your secrets, Winter.”

I brush the comment off with a smile. Is this what it’s like being friends with Aleck Fox? Have I graduated from being shoved in front of the firing squad to occasional playfulness, tickle fights, and womb-constricting comments like that one?

“I hate cake. I love pastries, and you know I like ice cream, but I hate wedding cake and birthday cake. Well, most birthday cakes.”

Aleck picks up the most decadent piece of chocolate cake on the table and sets it between us. He hands me a fork with his attention fastened on me, and I take it, feeling comfortable in this authentic moment with him. He’s tentatively listening. Interested. He’s watching my mouth as I speak and relaxed in his chair in a way that makes me feel natural with him. Friendly, even.

“When I was little...” I dip my fork into the edge of the chocolate frosting. “My mom and I would walk up to this little bakery a half a mile from our house, named Eddie’s Bakery. She would buy apple fritters for my dad, double-chocolate glazed donuts for my brothers, but she and I would get four different kinds of maple flavored donuts and eat them all before we even got home.” I laugh quietly. “Maple was our favorite flavor. Maple glazed donuts and pastries from Eddie’s, maple-rum ice cream from Brawner’s Creamery, maple-spiced lattes from Cavanagh’s Coffee House, maple fudge from The Chocolaterie in Venice Beach…” I tuck my hair behind my ear, noticing the way Aleck’s eyes watch my hair move, then drop to my exposed neck. “Any time I would feel sad or if something bad happened, my mom would get some of my favorite maple treats from around town to cheer me up.”

Feeling a nervous twinge in the pit of my stomach from the way Aleck has narrowed his attention on me, I finally bring the bite of chocolate cake into my mouth.

“Where does your family live?” Aleck asks, his eyes fixed on my mouth as I lick my fork clean.

“My dad lives in the same house I grew up in, in Venice Beach. My brothers—they’re twins, by the way—live together in Westchester. They started a youth baseball complex called Shortstops. They have off-season camps, mid-season training, and leagues. It’s a pretty impressive setup, actually. I’m proud of them.”

I spare him the bit about my mom being dead. People never know how to respond when they learn she died and how she died. We’re getting along so well, I don’t want to ruin it with uncomfortable, fake pleasantries.

“We meet at the house every Sunday to have dinner and catch up.” I roll my eyes. “Mostly so they can critique my life, but…” I chuckle quietly.

“Are your brothers older?”

I nod. “By two years.”

“Hmm…” Aleck finally takes a bite of the chocolate cake. “Fuck,” he mumbles with a full mouth. “This shit is amazing.”