Page 80 of Personal Foul
Charity
It’s difficult to choose who I enjoy watching more—Gracie or Dylan.
He’s perfect with her. And who would’ve ever guessed I would use that word to describe him? I’ve never in my life thought Dylan was perfect at anything.
Well, except in bed.
Okay. Fine. There. But that’s pretty recent too.
Still, I had no idea what to expect when I invited him over for a tea party after Grace insisted basically all week long. She’d only been asking me to have him over when her parents weren’t around, so I’d hoped I could keep putting her off. Until today.
She came running in, launched herself at me, and immediately demanded I invite my friend over for a tea party today.
“Oh?” Hope asked, pausing as she gathered her things to go. “What friend? Your roommate? You know she’s welcome to come over for a tea party anytime.”
“No!” shrieked Grace, making me flinch. “Other friend! The boy!”
That had seriously piqued Hope’s interest, a knowing gleam in her eye. “A boy, huh? Anyone I know?”
Laughing, I’d filled her in about Dylan. Well, the very most basic things about him—that we’d gone to the same high school but didn’t really know each other and connected while Isabelle was pursuing one of his friends. That hadn’t worked out for her, but …
All of that is technically true, even if it leaves out a few major details. She doesn’t need to know about the secrets and blackmail. Ever.
“Well, if you’re comfortable having him over, it’s fine by me,” Hope said, then she gave us both hugs and left.
I waited, though, because I knew Dylan had things this afternoon. I could’ve asked when I knew he wasn’t available, but even though I told him more than once that he could say no if he wanted to, I actually wanted him to come.
I thought it would be funny to see him sipping pretend tea from a tiny plastic cup.
I wasn’t wrong.
The tiny pink cup with its purple hearts pinched between his fingers is both hilarious and adorable.
Far from being embarrassed, though, he hams up his part, being almost excessively polite to Grace, talking to her stuffed animals like they’re real people, sipping his pretend tea and slurping loudly, exclaiming how delicious it is at regular intervals, and asking for multiple refills.
They’re in the middle of a round of rapid refills right now, in fact. He holds out his cup, Grace “fills” it, then he loudly slurps it all down and says, “Delicious! May I please have more?” while holding out his cup again. He’s adopted a pompous accent too, which Grace finds hilarious. I have to agree, it is pretty funny.
Grace is giggling as she refills his cup again and again and again.
“My! You must have a magical teapot that never runs out!” Dylan says after the fifth or sixth refill in a row.
Grace giggles even more, barely able to stay upright from laughing so hard.
“Oh, well, perhaps I was wrong. It seems the teapot has run out.” He sets his cup back on its saucer. “Say, did you happen to make any crumpets? I could do with a delicious crumpet to go with my spot of tea.”
Grace howls with laughter, and I think I hear her repeat “crumpet” and “spot,” apparently finding those words particularly hysterical.
Dylan turns his attention to the stuffed animals. “You there. Mr. Red Dog. How are you enjoying your tea?”
Between giggles, Grace tries to tell Dylan the dog’s name, but I’ve already had to translate for them a few times, and I know there’s no way he’ll be able to tell what she’s saying.
Leaning over, I whisper, “His name is Mr. Fluffermuffins.”
Eyes twinkling, Dylan’s mouth opens, and I can’t tell if he’s about to join Gracie doubled over with laughter or if he’ll be able to hold a conversation with the oversized stuffed dog.
He masters his obvious urge to laugh, the corners of his lips turning up despite his best efforts and his voice vibrating with suppressed laughter as he addresses the dog by name. “Pardon me. Mr. Fluffermuffins. How are you enjoying your tea?”
All of a sudden, Gracie covers her face with her hand. “Oh! I forgot!” She slams the teapot on the table and sprints out of the room.
