101. Alice

ALICE

T he salted caramel cheesecake that Amber made looks appealing, even if it does look like she’s flooded the entire top with caramel.

She’s used careful piping to write Happy New Year across the surface, but that’s it.

It’s simple. A little basic. But could still be delicious.

Michael slices into the dessert, and as he’s pulling the slice away—the caramel dripping off the edges—I see him smirk.

It’s just for a split second. The briefest of moments. But I saw it.

Michael is happy.

And then I see why.

The cheesecake is curdled.

Lumps mar what should be a silky smooth texture.

I take a bite, and it doesn’t even matter that her salted caramel is way too salty. She won’t win.

I don’t like wishing ill will on people.

I want to be someone who supports everyone.

But there’s an exception to every rule. And today, Amber is that exception.

Michael sets his fork down. “The caramel is too salty. The cheesecake mixture has curdled. And you needed to have blind baked that crust because it’s soggy.”

His words are harsh. Unforgiving. But that’s how he always is to people who mess up, so it’s not like he’s being mean just because it’s Amber. And it’s not even really being mean if it’s all true.

I set my fork down and smile at the soap opera star. “We all make mistakes sometimes.”

Mine was the Jell-O scarf.

Hers was this cheesecake.

And Michael’s was dating her.