Chapter 45

“On the card, you mean?” Angel made me uncover my face by tugging on Santa’s surfboard.

“Not the card. The cake.” I pulled my sweater up again.

“Noah.” Angel’s voice was thick with annoyance.

“Okay. Sorry, but you’re going to be mad, and I hate that.”

“I’m not going to be mad.”

“The cake says, Fuck me hard, Angel Ramos.”

“You can’t be serious.” He sure sounded mad.

“Your full nameWe turned the ice into a speech bubble, and gave Cupid a moustache and a cannoli penis…maybe an éclair.”

“What?”

“Possibly a bear claw, for all I know.”

Angel shook his head. “What?”

“There was ice. I didn’t see the final product. Troy was so busy I didn’t want to bug him. Then, I wanted us to see it together…you and me…not Troy and me. So, I don’t know exactly what it looks like. A cannoli penis was one idea, but there was this patch of ice he was going to write—”