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s c h i j n

[Dutch]: Pretence. The act of giving a false appearance.

HOW I MIGHT have expected to show up at the gathering was: bright, sharp, efficient. Ready. It had been a while Haven nabbed a deal of this magnitude. An external catering arrangement for—as I had come to find out—a more than influential crowd.

What I wouldn't have expected a week ago, however, was to show up here feeling half dead.

My morning was riddled with Gabby's pertinent questions: you sure you can handle it? Stay back and I'll have Jen come with me. Are you sure you can do this? You look sick. Stay home.

And it all ended with an abundance of yeses, and a would you please get off my back? from me.

Because I was more than certain I could do my own damn job.

It didn't matter that it had been one of those nights, or actually, one of those weeks. It didn't matter if my blue eyes were currently sunken in, and I was tired through and through because I lacked sufficient sleep.

I was good at covering up. All it took was a little bit of concealer, and a conscious effort to keep my gaze focused. It had been a week planning this already, and there would be no backing out. Shawn trusted all of us—myself included—for a smooth sail. Because, and as he put it: they're big people, so do what you have to do, and then, extra. I'll take a piss on your paychecks if there's so much as a hitch.

It was an empty threat, but still, I knew just how much the opportunity meant to him. It didn't mean Haven was doing bad exactly, but this was far from an everyday contract, and we were all more than aware of that.

The cocktail event would be taking place at Lauren's parent's home. Well, their personal grand hall to be precise. Gabby and I were currently being ushered in through the staff entrance by a tall man, as we balanced the variety of finger foods, and desserts on a couple of carts. It was all here: bruschettas, hors d'oeuvres, zucchini bites, as well as the hogs in a blanket, and the corn meal cake Lauren still fussed over.

Gabby's cart had just dessert. A carefully arranged number of key lime pies, macaroons, and lemon scones fit on the platters. It wasn't ever a one person job, but the woman had raw talent, and her skillful fingers tailored everything to perfection before we set out. It had been about four years down the road, but I secretly still loved watching her work.

She basically taught me all I knew. Especially when I was more than considered a blatant amateur crooning over recipe books, clumsy hands messily doing all the work.

"Appetizers and dessert," the man spoke up once we fully got in. I observed him scribble something down on his clipboard, before gesturing his hand to the left. "The tables are over there. Set up on the pair at the extreme right."

We both nodded and followed his directions. All the while, I absentmindedly glanced around at the large space, and I honestly couldn't help but wonder exactly how much money Lauren's family was worth.

Because this was screaming a whole freaking lot.

The grand hall was just that—grand. Scarlet sashes mixed in with black ones hung from the ceiling, accentuating the numerous dangling chandeliers. They all seemed to glitter like golden crystals as the light danced off the prisms. The seating arrangements were also perfectly coordinated, and from my observation, the number of people wouldn't be excessive. Still, there would be a good turnout nonetheless, if all the spaces were filled.

"I'll take the extreme, you take the next," Gabby said to me.

We arranged the trays accordingly, the customized napkins, and other serving utensils neatly placed nearby. I let out a breath as I meticulously dropped the very last fork. Gabby nudged my shoulder to confirm I was all set, and I gave her a nod.

In the meantime, I intentionally tried to sharpen up my demeanor as well, staring straight ahead with a fixed smile on my face in preparation for the guests. A few were already filing in. My hair was in a high ponytail on my head, so I was at least thankful my unruly strands wouldn't be getting in the way.

With tons and tons of practice, my mask had effortlessly been slipped on. Here goes nothing.

"Cass!"

My attention snapped up, and I smiled as soon as I saw Lauren walking towards us. Her shoulders were high, bare collarbones practically glinting in the daylight. And as usual, her enthusiasm was splashed across her face.

It was refreshing.

I was about to awkwardly shake her hand across the table, but she readily came over and wrapped her arms around me. I chuckled when she squeezed before letting go. She always looked lovely, but today was clearly raising the bar. Her dark, brown hair was pulled back with a few locks left astray to frame her face, and an elegant blue dress accentuated her slender frame. The hazel eyes I was growing accustomed to were also keen and bright.

Signature mischief, present.

"You made it." She grinned, and then looked over at Gabby who had been watching us both. I could already picture the raise of the latter's brows in my head. "Oh, hi. I don't believe we've met. I'm Lauren."

Gabby took her outstretched hand, and gave her a small smile. "Gabby."

Lauren spent about five minutes just chattering with me about everything and nothing—even occasionally reeling Gabby in. It was nice to see my friend progressively warm up to the conversation. Seeing as she could conveniently be an intimidating block of ice. Still, I finally urged Lauren to get to her party and stop wasting time mingling with the servants. It was obviously a joke, but she swatted my hand at that.

"Corn meal cake." Her eyes seemed to twinkle, lips jutting out in a pout while I shot her a knowing look. "Just one piece, and I'll leave. I promise."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. But if we get fired, it's on you."

She laughed in response. "I think I'm all too familiar with management to let that happen."

After Gabby handed her a slice on a small plate, Lauren's eyes lit up like a child's.

"You both are the best things ever," she said, taking her little treat. Afterwards though, she groaned, her mood deflating in exaggerated dismay as she scanned the crowd. "And now, excuse me while I go mingle. In other words, while I go kill myself." I stifled a laugh, watching her blow a kiss in our general direction. "See y'around!"

"I like her."

My attention shifted over to Gabby, who watched Lauren's retreating figure with an amused grin.

A dramatic gasp escaped my mouth.

"Gabrielle Martinez actually likes someone on a first meeting?" I gaped, before tapping her nose. "I think someone got cloned in her sleep."

"Oh, shut up," she shot back. "Now keep your back straight. This place is officially buzzing, and a few people are already heading over."

Gabby's words proved true, and the next half hour was spent catering to the guests wants. A macaroon here, two bruschettas there, and the likes of it. The food had been well received as we came to find out, and it was more than satisfying to watch.

I had refilled one tray with more scones, and moved to return it to the table. But it was just then, one of the cocktail servers bumped into me from behind.

Thus, destroying all of my coordination.

The tray slipped through my fingers, and within milliseconds, my brain began furiously assessing how much of a mess this would make. Cost included.

But before my flimsy hold on the object completely loosened, a swift hand shot out and firmly grabbed the tray.

I blinked, stopping mid-squat, as the pressure in my chest dropped. I couldn't help but let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Careful there."

At the oddly familiar sound of the voice, my head whipped up immediately. And safe to say, my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, when I came to realize my cake saviour was none other than Lauren's brother.

Lauren's rather standoffish, terribly good looking brother.

"Brian?—Oh, hey." Instinctively, I tried to pry the item from his grasp, but he tactfully held it in place long enough for me to get a grip of myself first, seeing as I nearly fell along with the scones. I gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, afterwards taking back my load. "Thank you."

"It's no problem." He resumed his upright posture, the gesture duly giving him the dominant height advantage. "I have to say, it's a bit of a surprise seeing you here."

I half shrugged, tilting my head towards the arrangement in my hold. "We're catering today." He glanced down at the berry infused cakes before us both, and I decided to ask out of the simple want to hear his thoughts. "Have you tried any of the desserts yet?"

His eyes found my face, and I couldn't help but peer into them, before promptly looking away. They were just so gray. Gloomy, and treacherously entrancing all at once. Plus, the way he stared—it was—it felt invasive. Like he could peel off all my layers if he so much as looked hard enough.

"No, actually, I haven't. I just got here," he let me know. "May I?"

My lips tilted up slightly. "Go ahead." Before he reached for one though, I chipped in, "Oh, and please tell me what you think. Feedback helps the business."

He nodded, and carefully picked up one of the corner pieces.

He took one bite, before popping the rest of it into his mouth. I watched in embarrassing fixation while he chewed—rather meticulously, as though to really taste in toe with my request. My eyes followed the movement of his mouth; how he gazed above my head, before his eyes slowly shut close. How he just physically paid attention to nothing, in respect to what had hit his taste buds.

And I respected that.

The bob of his Adam's apple signaled his swallow, and I surreptitiously took in a breath when his tongue darted out to lick the faint trace of cream off his full lips. A couple of his fingers followed suit. One first, and then two.

"It's really good," he complimented after a little while. His eyes were back open, his focus lowered, as it was now on me. "I love the tang from the lemons. There's really nothing bad about it."

I smiled, unable to shake the feeling of satisfaction. I made the scones. "Thank you."

"Could I have another?"

I faltered for a moment, before nodding.

"Of course," I told him. "Last time I checked, we were here to serve."

He muttered his thanks, and took one more scone, eating it in a manner no less alluring than the first.

It's normal. He's just hot.

Apparently, I had forgotten what my main focus even was, which was the food. Still, I nearly found it worth it, because once he finished, I thought I could make out the almost slight quirk of his lips—

Almost. Because it didn't end up happening.

Just when I thought Brian would show some sort of carefree emotion, he was stopped short. And whatever it could have been was washed clean, as a blonde woman gingerly looped her arm around his.

"Babe, I've been looking for you," she said to him, bold, red lips forming a childish pout. "You specifically said you wouldn't lose me."

Taking the time, I subtly assessed the newcomer. Dark blonde hair pulled back, mouth pronounced. She sported a satin, red dress that looked like it easily encompassed my annual salary, every soft fibre of the fabric molding into her slim curves.

He was taken. To say I was surprised would be a lie, anyway.

Brian's stance remained the same, seeing as he didn't exactly have to hold her hand in return. Her body was already sufficiently pressed against his side.

"I just wanted to try some food." He turned to her, gaze finally shifting from me. "Besides, you were busy with Sharon."

The blonde waved him off with a smile, and then a roll of her eyes. "That doesn't matter. You know she still has quite the mouth on her." I observed her attention momentarily shift in my direction while she spoke, before she stopped altogether. Her dark eyes looked me over for a brief moment. Neither welcoming, nor precisely hostile—at least, I preferred to think. My position in the scenario would attract no more importance, regardless.

"You know what? Let's just go mingle. I think I see your mom."

Seeing as she clearly had no interest in being offered a scone, I took that as my cue to leave, and finally get back in the swing of events.

Time was already far spent, and I certainly didn't need to stick around to watch someone pee all over territory I hadn't even stepped into.

I carefully placed the tray on the table, and got the answer to my unacknowledged assumption as soon as Gabby opened her mouth.

"I haven't witnessed such volumes of sexual tension in a while."

I reflexively rolled my eyes. "Please, you'd hook me up with the table if it asked me out."

She bumped my hip—well, more like my thigh—with hers. "Shut up. He's hot, and I actually think he's into you." She paused for a moment. "And he's hot."

"Did you even see the woman who just whisked him off?" I drawled. "I'm not into committed men, thank you."

Gabby scoffed. "When we truthfully find out what on earth you're even into, then you talk." I shook my head when she cocked her head to the side, lips pursed in false deliberation. "And nope. Didn't see anyone."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "You're horrible. Get back to work."

Minutes passed, and my nonchalance felt genuine. But apparently, it wasn't all that much, as I found my eyes gravitate towards that direction again. Where a dark haired man stood erect with an adequate match beside him. Face impassive, and mouth moving in confident composure.

He's just a pretty face.

And in this world, there were all too many of those. Several oceans and tidal waves of pretty faces washing over one another, proving a new one held no more significance than what it replaced.