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I’ve had more free time to spend with Ryan since my audition last week. We’ve started running again, and I even let Ryan photograph me. He said he wanted to get a few shots of my legs. He’s been working on them for the past couple days while I’m in class. He showed them to me this morning, and they are incredible. It’s pretty amazing what he can capture and enhance. I love that we can do that together. The way he looks at me when he takes my picture, it’s an intimacy I haven’t ever felt before.
When I get back from work, Mark’s car is already parked in the driveway. We decided to have my non-birthday dinner here at the loft tonight. I told Ryan to not make it a big deal, and explained how my mother would always throw these extravagant birthdays for me, but how they were really her way of one-upping her friends.
My parties had more of her friends there than mine, and we never got to do what I wanted. They were always so formal when all I really wanted was a simple white cake and to play silly games. Instead, for my sixth birthday, I had a tea party at the country club. We all wore frilly dresses and fancy hats. So, ever since I left home, I prefer to do nothing for my birthday since the day only holds dismal memories for me.
When I walk in, I am happy to see the guys watching TV and drinking beer. I love each of them in very different ways and smile when I see them sitting there.
I walk in and give Jase and Mark a hug and a kiss and when Ryan motions me over, I go sit on his lap.
“I missed you,” he says quietly in my ear and runs his nose down my neck. “Mmmm . . . coffee,” he jokes.
I laugh and hop off his lap. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. I’ll be back.”
“Pizzas will be here in a few minutes,” Mark calls out to me when I start up the stairs.
“All right.”
After I shower and dry my hair, I decide to take it easy and throw on my pajamas. When I hear the doorbell ring, I hurry downstairs because I’m starving.
When I turn the corner, I see Ryan hugging his mom.
I’m surprised when I say, “Donna?”
“Candace,” she says with a smile.
I walk over to her, confused, and give her a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I wasn’t going to miss your birthday. But I’m a little disappointed that I had to hear about it from Ryan when you and I talk every week.”
When I look over at Ryan, he gives me a wink and a chaste kiss.
“Sorry, I . . . I don’t normally do anything for my birthday, but I’m so happy you’re here,” I say and hug her again. “I can’t believe you drove all this way.”
“It’s a few hours, dear. Hardly a chore.” She takes my hand and walks us into the living room.
I introduce her to Mark and Jase, and they all exchange hugs.
“Mom, what do you want to drink?”
“A glass of wine will be good.”
“Me too,” I say.
“You’re not gonna get drunk, slap my ass, and tell me how sexy I am, are you?” he teases.
“Ryan!”
I look at Donna with an apologetic look while Ryan is laughing at my expense in the kitchen.
“I didn’t . . . I mean it wasn’t . . .”
“Honey, we’ve all been there,” she says with a hint of laughter.
Ryan walks back in, hands his mom and I our glasses of wine, and sits down next to me while his mom and I chat. Ever since Christmas, she calls me once a week to check in. At first it was a little uncomfortable, but we’ve grown close. She knows that I’ve been staying here with Ryan and how I feel about him. She’s never once been judgmental or snarky like it was with my mother when she would call me. The relationship I have with Donna is one that I have been needing, now more than ever. She’s nothing but supportive and encouraging, and I love her for that.
When the pizza arrives, we all sit around the living room and eat straight from the boxes. Ryan and I share the box with the pineapple pizza. I love that I can spend a night like this, in my pajamas, with people I care about.
Mark and Ryan gather all the boxes and take them to the kitchen when we are done. When they come back in, Ryan is holding a cheap grocery store birthday cake.
“Don’t get upset, but you told me in the elevator that you wanted cake, so here it is.”
He smiles at me as he sets it on the coffee table and Mark hands everyone a fork. We all sit on the floor, around the table, and eat. We don’t bother cutting it; we just eat straight from the cake. When I can’t take another bite, I throw my fork in and lie back.
“I’m gonna die,” I moan out in discomfort.
“I don’t get how you can be so tiny when you eat like a horse,” Mark teases.
“Because I work my ass off.”
“Please, you twirl around on your toes,” he chuckles out.
“Oh yeah? When I find a pair of pointes in size Yeti, I’m gonna make you wear them, and then you can see what a workout it is.”
“I’d pay to see that shit,” Jase says.