Rosalie’s sister, Cecilia, cuts me a dark look. “That’s obvious. She probably flirted with one of the men to get a ticket.”
I reach for the lemon tart.
Their conversation follows me.
“Look at her shoes. Aren’t they from last year’s clearance rack?”
“Doesn’t she know it’s tacky to wear all pink? Is she a toddler?”
More laughter rings out.
My fingers tighten on the dessert plate. The more the Davis sisters poke at me, the more difficult it is to keep my mouth shut.
Yet, defending myself will only play right into their hands.
Should I just leave?
“Excuse me,” a voice says.
I look up and find a tall, lean man with closely-cropped hair and intelligent brown eyes hidden behind delicate round glasses. He looks at me with an eyebrow arched, as if we should know each other.
“Is it good?” he asks.
“W-what?”
“The lemon tart, is it good?”
“Uh, yeah.” I offer a polite but tense smile.
He takes a bite of one and makes a face. “Oh, that’s bitter. You two.” He waves to the Davis sisters.
They jolt in surprise.
“Have some,” the stranger says. “They’re as bitter as the both of you combined.”
Cecilia coughs in embarrassment while her sister pouts and stalks off.
I fight my laughter. “You shouldn’t have done that. They’ll hold a grudge.”
“I hold grudges too. We’ll see which one of us lasts the longest.”
This time, I can’t hold it back. I do laugh out loud.
A charming smile grows on his face. He offers a hand. “I’m Benjamin, but my friends call me Benji.”
“Rebel.”
“Rebel? Is that your actual name?”
“My mother was in a very ‘female empowerment’ stage of her life when she had me.”
He chuckles.
I smile too.
“Well, Rebel,” Benjamin leans in, “I hope you weren’t too hurt by anything those nasty women said.”
“On the contrary, I know I look amazing when they start screeching.”
