When having a shit day, eat cake.

I shoved the last, giant spoonful of it into my mouth, not caring that the empty calories probably shot straight to myw aistline. Who cared about calories? My chest hurt so much that I wantedt o die. So what if I got fat?

Fuck boyfriends.

I couldn't rely on them. Max had promised that he'd love me and caref or me till we grew old. He'd told me I was the only girl for him and

proclaimed we were soul mates. He'd said all that stupid, soppy shit, then

proceeded to tear my heart out and throw it out the window.

She wasn't even that hot.

I cupped my boobs. Yeah, I had bigger tits, so why did he choose her

over me?

I stared at the streamers on the ground and held my tears in. Those

streamers were meant for his birthday. I'd snuck into his place early,

wanting to give him a surprise, but I'd gotten the surprise instead. He had

his dick in some Asian chick with pretty fuck-me eyes.

I picked the streamers up and flung them across the street in a fit of

rage. "Go to hell, Max!" An ugly cry tore from my throat. I grabbed a tissue

from the packet I'd just bought and blew into it. I needed to buy more.

An elderly woman who'd just parked her gave me a weird look. "Mind

your language, young lady."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I hope you have a horrid day, too. You're old

and going to die soon."

"Excuse me?" She inched back.

"You're old and going to die soon. We're all getting older every day.

I'm just saying it like it is."

She gaped at me. "I don't waste time with people like you."

I rolled my eyes. "Skedaddle, then."

She turned her flat nose up, then stomped off into the clinic that was

next to the convenience store I sat outside.

"You've gone ahead and ruined someone else's day," I muttered to

myself. I rested my cheeks into my palms. "Aren't you happy now, Cara?

You're just a black hole of unhappiness, sucking all the joy out of

everything." Great, now I was talking to myself in third person. I was so

heartbroken that I was going mad.

All I wanted was to curl up in a ball and cry on the pavement

pathetically, like a shriveling shroom, but I'd decided that was too

depressing, even for me, so I forced myself to my feet. What was I to do

with my life now? I'd centered it too much around Max. We were supposed

to get married in the fall. I'd been window-shopping for wedding dresses.

He told me he was going to get me a ring, but I'd never seen one. I'd been

too trusting.

Less thinking. More cake.

I tossed the empty packaging of my finished dessert in the trash can and

went back into the store. I stopped at the dessert aisle and inspected the

possible loot. Some pop song blared from the speakers. I didn't recognize

the tune, but the girl at the cashier did a little dance to it.

I tore my eyes away from the girl and refocused my attention on the

snack aisle. The different cakes were packed and arranged in neat boxes. I

went for the red velvet flavor. I always went for that one. "The color of pain

and blood topped with cream cheese," I said to myself. I really needed to

stop voicing my dark thoughts aloud.

"Aren't you just a bundle of joy?"

I jolted, then spun to my right. I hadn't noticed the man standing next to

me. Lifting both brows, I stared at him. "Did you just walk out of a

magazine ad?" And did I really just say that out loud?

He laughed. "What?"

"Uh, nothing." The man was absolutely gorgeous. Medium-length,

swept-back hair. Eyes that looked like the ocean on a sunny day. There were

little specks of green in his irises that sent flutters through my chest. His

laughter revealed a perfect row of teeth, but his nose was slightly crooked.

The imperfection only served to make him look more flawless. He wore a

tight shirt that hugged his muscular frame. His shoulders were squared and

broad and masculine. I wanted to run my fingers over them, and I could

stare all day at his biceps.

"Biceps are an odd thing to stare at," he said.

"Huh?"

He pointed at me. "You said you could stare all day at my biceps.

They're really just lumps of muscle."

I cringed. Did I admit to that? "I blame it on the heartbreak hangover."

"What's that?" he asked, his smile not dropping.

"It's when you're so sad, you get physical symptoms of a hangover. You

know, the usual. Headaches, vomiting, body aches. Giant hole in chest."

"Need to talk about it?"

I blinked. I didn't really have anybody to talk to, and this man's offer

sounded nice. The world had gotten so cold, and Max had taken up so much

of my time in the past. I didn't have any to make friends. Lydia, my foster

mother, was living her retirement traveling. I didn't know whether she was

in South Africa or Tokyo.

Still, despite the tempting offer, I wouldn't pour the contents of my

heart out to a stranger I didn't know.

"No," I replied. "I don't even know your first name."

"I'm Hansel," he said.

"And I'm Gretel."

"Really?"

"Sure," I said, deciding to go with the flow. I probably wasn't going to

meet him again after this encounter.

"You have the sugar part down." He glanced at the red velvet cake I was

holding. "Are you going to finish that all by yourself?" I'd picked up a

whole cake. I realized one slice wasn't enough, and tiny portions were for

babies who hadn't gone through the cruel hardships of life yet.

I shrugged. "What about it?"

"I'll get the vanilla flavor," he said. "We can share."

"Vanilla?" I asked, tilting my head. "That's so yellow. So plain. So…

vanilla."

"What are you, a professional cake taster?"

I screwed my nose up. "We can go with that."

"I have this feeling you're not being honest with me." He grinned, and

the corners of his eyes crinkled. Damn. He looked way too hot when he

smiled. All thoughts of Max melted away. The hormones from my ovaries

took control. Heartbreak? What heartbreak? I stood before a god.

As I made my way to the cashier, Hansel hastily picked up two beers.

He lifted the can and winked at me. My lady parts went wild at the sight.

"Can't have a proper therapy session without some alcohol," he said.

"We're having a therapy session now? Thought you were just picking

me up."

"We can be doing whatever you want."

My insides coiled.

The cashier squinted at me. Her gaze flicked back and forth between

Hansel and me. "What's wrong with your mascara?" she asked. She blew a

bubble of gum. It popped, then she gathered it into her mouth again to

continue chewing it in an annoying manner. "Crybaby, huh?" she asked,

glancing at Hansel and winking at him. She turned back to me. "You look

like you were having a shit day. Boohoo."

What a bitch. Couldn't she see that I'd been grieving?

"What about you?" I asked. "You look like some metal band just puked

all over you." She had the goth look down pat. She probably went through

ten bottles of mascara a month.

"I don't like my life. I call it my mask. I use mascara to hide my pain.

Like it?"

"Not really."

The cashier rolled her eyes at me in typical bitch fashion. "That'll be ten

dollars and fifty cents." She spread her hand out, showing me her horribly

manicured nails.

Before I could fish out my wallet, Hansel passed the cashier two ten-

dollar bills. The cashier's mood brightened immediately after their hands

touched. It must have been nice to be him. He was so hot that his presence

cured depression.

"Come again," she said, leaning over the counter. She pushed her boobs

up, squeezing them together so they formed a deep cleavage. I spotted

patches of beige there. The cashier put makeup on her boobs?

I shook my head. Her desperation was gross.

Hansel put his hand on the small of my back and led me out of the

convenience store. I ignored the heat burning from where he touched, then sat at the same spot I'd picked earlier. Before I re-entered the convenience

store, I'd left a mess of tissue papers at the curbside, and they were still

sprawled all over the place. "I swear," I said, "I was going to clean that up

later."

His gaze lit up with amusement. "I'm not pointing any fingers." In one

smooth movement, he sat down next to me. Pull yourself together, Cara!

Watching him moving like that made me almost drool, and all he'd done

was sit his ass down. He opened a beer can. It hissed. "So," he began.

"What happened to you?"

I drew my tongue over my upper lip, considering whether to tell him.

"Boyfriend cheated."

"Ah." Hansel gave me a sorry look, which, because I didn't want to be

pitied, aggravated me.

"No need to feel sorry for me. It was his loss. I paid for most of the rent,

anyway. Made breakfast every day. Mopped the floor, vacuumed the place.

Good luck finding another girl like me. I even gave him morning blow jobs.

Which chick does that?"

Hansel raised his brows. "Morning blow jobs."

I sighed. "You might look like you stepped out of a Hollywood movie,

but you're just a typical guy, focusing on the damn blow jobs."

"I'm just pointing out how much of a gem you are."

"Is this how you normally hit on girls?"

"I don't usually hit on them."

"Oh yeah, they just fall on your feet and offer to wash your laundry."

"It's not that, either." Hansel took a large swig of his beer. He seemed

more interested in beer than his cake. I, however, had a sweet tooth. I

shoved a huge mouthful of red velvet into my mouth, not caring that I was

experiencing third-degree sugar overload.

"I'm not understanding you at all," I said between my chewing. A guy

as hot as him must have had girls falling at his feet, begging to suck his

dick. He didn't have to wait on me to give him a morning blow job.

"Meeting girls isn't something I do often."

"Uh, why?"

Hansel stared at the lamppost forlornly, all mysterious-like. "You'll find

out soon enough." He wasn't the dark and mysterious type, however, not

with his full head of blond hair and beach-boy looks. He seemed nice, and the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve. I might have been assuming too

much from just his friendly front.

"You're right, though," Hansel said, smiling from underneath his fringe.

"It was his loss. I barely know you, but you seem like an awesome girl who

doesn't give a fuck." He leaned over. My heart raced as he reached up and

wiped some leftover cake from the side of my lip. My stomach did little

somersaults and my mind blanked.

He put his thumb in his mouth and licked the cake crumbs off.

Inside, I combusted. I darted my eyes away from him and stared at the

comparatively less interesting asphalt of the road. "So, what's a guy like

you doing out here so late?"

"Wanted a beer," he said. "And to check up on something."

"What thing?"

"Confidential information." He finally opened his box of vanilla cake.

He toyed with the small fork the cashier had provided and ate neatly, unlike

me. "You'll find out soon enough."

"I'm highly doubting that you can find information worthy of

confidentiality in a dingy place like this."

"I found it," he said. I could hear the smirk in his voice. The heat of his

gaze burned at my cheek. I peeked at him, which was a bad idea, because

his expression made me twice as nervous. Where was badass Cara? I wasn't

usually this ditzy. When I saw Max fucking that chick, my first reaction was

to video it for leverage. I could post the video, but I'd decided I didn't want

to be that much of an asshole.

"Do you like what you found?" I asked.

Another warm chuckle sounded from Hansel's throat. "It's a fifty-fifty."

His eyes twinkled. For some reason, I thought he was talking about me. But

of course he wasn't. The world didn't revolve around me, and what were

the chances? I blew out a breath to try to calm my nerves, then tried to find

something interesting about the lamppost across the street.

Hansel's phone buzzed. He pulled it out from his pocket, and the

electric blue of the screen reflected off his high cheekbones. "Right, I have

to go. Enjoy your cake, Caramel."

"Wait, how do you know my name?"

When I turned around, Hansel had disappeared.