Jessica

I wrapped myself in my grandmother's white, fur coat. I didn't want to have to worry about ever getting an unpleasant encounter with Alistair, so I went to someplace not even my parents will not bother to look: my grandmother's walk-in closet.

I looked at myself in the mirror wall. The last time I was here, my mother and I had a really big fight. I was so mad that my grandmother had to bring in a mattress because I didn't want to get out. I did though. After two days, three tubs of ice cream, two boxes of cupcakes, and a bowl of left-over Halloween candies.

My grandmother was too considerate to stop me pig out.

A knock on the door stopped my train of thought. "Who's there?" I called out.

"Jessica? It's Matthew." A voice came from behind the door.

"Come in."

The door didn't open despite my invitation.

"It's not locked, Matthew. You know how doors work, right?" I kid.

He chuckles. "I know. Are you decent though? You're in a closet after all."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm decent. Decent as I'll ever be." I slumped back on the fluffy donut seat that I insisted my grandmother to keep.

The knob jiggles and in came Matthew. "Your grandmother said Jellybean will probably be here. And she is right. Jellybean is here," he says as he looks around.

I snort-laughed. "Come sit. Let's put those uncle jokes to rest."

He smiles. "Cupcake?"

I look at the box of strawberry cupcakes.

"Did my grandmother put you up to this?" I ask suspiciously. Frankly, I never imagined the health-nut Matthew Parkinson walking around with a box of cavities and/or diabetes in hand.

He sat carefully on the other donut seat in front of me. "Not really. I came looking for you and she gave me directions. She was pretty thorough about it. And then she told me to bring you these cupcakes because she thought you might be starving. And that you wouldn't like the healthy crap they were serving at the party."

"Okay. Understood. She was right about me starving. Her jewelry was starting to look delicious a minute ago." I took the cupcakes which he offered and placed the box on my lap. "How's the party?"

"It was okay. Your mom was also wondering where you've gone." He shifted uncomfortably, then reaches behind him. His hand reappeared with my shoe. He subtly takes a glance my way if I was still wearing the other one.

I was.

He leans over and puts my shoe next to my barefoot.

I try not to roll my eyes at the thought of my other actually looking for me in the middle of her perfect party. "Do you want some cupcakes?"

He looked like he will turn it down.

"Come on. We're celebrating." I extended the box in front of him.

He hesitated.

"Will it help if I say 'please'?" I gave him a big smile.

He took one cupcake.

"Okay. There you go. Not that hard after all, right?" I bat my lashes at him.

He stares at the cupcake like it was dirt. "I'm not really a fan of sweets."

"Yeah, I figured," I say between mouthfuls of cupcake. I felt the icing smudging my nose and upper lip.

Matthew withdraws something from his pocket. "You have something up your nose. Here." He hands me his handkerchief.

"Oh, thanks." I wipe my nose clean and everywhere else I assumed the icing would've smeared. I examined the handkerchief and noticed the initial. "Your handkerchief has your initials."

"It's a gift."

I arched a brow. "Oh? Don't leave hanging over here."

Matthew shakes his head smilingly. "About two years ago, I visited the pediatric hospital my mom established back in her 20s in Kenya. One of our fundraising events happened to gain enough proceeds to fund my project. We were able to finance additional intensive care units for cancer patients and hire a dozen more doctors. Anyway, Joey gave that to me as a lucky charm. His mom embroidered it."

My jaw hangs open. "I just sullied your lucky charm."

"It's okay. It's washable."

"You know what? I'm gonna wash it clean myself." I bend over, carefully placing his lucky charm inside my purse.

"So, what are celebrating? If I'm going to eat this cupcake, I think I'd like to know why," he says, a hint of lightness in his voice.

I leaned back in my seat. "Firstly, my parents hadn't pimp me out to the biggest jerk I've ever known – thanks to you. Secondly, my night has been smooth sailing so far."

He turns his attention to his cupcake. I thought he was going to gnaw away, but to my surprise, he started pulling it apart. He flips the bottom half over the top, the icing in between. Now it looked like a sandwich. He takes a neat bite out of the cupcake. No speck of icing on his mouth.

I was dying to make a comment, but I bit my tongue.

"Why is that?"

"Hmm?" I blinked, completely lost on the topic.

"Why is your night smooth sailing so far?" He takes another dainty bite.

God, this guy is not a messy eater.

"Oh. You know, no encounters with jerk Alistair. But my parents can't see that because he keeps kissing their asses. "Too busy." I made quotation marks in the air.

He stays silent as if asking me to continue.

I sighed. "Okay, if we're going to have this conversation, I need a drink." I laid the cupcakes on the floor, slid off my shoe, and walked toward my grandmother's shoe collection.

I look over my shoulder and saw Matthew as confused as a baby.

"If my grandmother still hasn't changed at all, there should be a bottle of tequila and/or gin in some of these shoeboxes."

"She keeps alcohol in her shoebox?" He questioned in disbelief.

I rummage through the boxes, feeling their weight. "Yep. Shot glasses in her coats too. Which reminds me," I tested a hand in the inside pocket of her fur coat I was wearing, "Viola." I grinned proudly as I held it up in the air. "Sometimes it's a pack of cigarettes."

He laughs. "Your grandmother really is something."

"I told you – vibrant than ever." I turned to the shoeboxes, and gasp in delight when I felt one that was unusually heavy. "I think I found us a drink." I walk back to my seat, box in hand and a fat grin on my face.

Hi, guys! I hope you're all doing okay. :) If you're just trying your best to get through the week, know you're not alone.