Page 9 of Sugar Baby

I roll my eyes when she points her microphone in my direction over her shoulder, but I relent and sing. Thankfully, unlike my roomie, I can carry a tune.

Oakley’s eyes widen, but then she grins and takes the mic back. She continues to use me like her personal pole until the end of the song, offering me the mic every now and then, until we’re both laughing so hard we can barely get the words out.

I gasp, sucking in air as my stomach hurts. Oh my god, I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. But the sudden scent of something burning hits me, and I sober up. “Ah, I think your breakfast is burning.”

Oakley’s face drops and she dashes toward the kitchen, an “oh shit” left in her wake.

I follow her in and see that the bacon she’d been cooking is slightly crispier than she had probably planned. Still edible, in my opinion.

She turns with a grimace. “We can go eat at the campus café, if you want? My treat, since I burned this?”

I frown at her, and wave at the pan she is pointing at me. “That is still totally edible.”

She raises an eyebrow at me, then looks at the food.

I can see the moment she is going to protest, so I step in and take the pan. “Here, I’ll take the crispier pieces, you can keep the ones on top.”

I quickly scoop the bacon out of the still-sizzling pan and drop it onto the plate covered with a paper towel. “Eggs too?”

Oakley nods and points to the two eggs sitting on the counter. I turn the heat down on the stove and put the pan back on the element, cracking the eggs into the oil left behind by the bacon.

I notice that there is bread sitting in the toaster and push them down to start toasting—fun fact, the number on the toaster dial is the amount of time the bread is toasting for, not the amount of toastiness

One of my first foster sisters told me that fact and taught me how to cook this meal on my first morning with her. The parents in that house were amazing, mostly because they were barely ever home, working two jobs each, leaving the older kids to take care of the younger ones.

Once CPS had caught wind of that little tidbit, they shipped us off to group homes. If only they’d known that letting kids look after kids had been a better situation than the one I was placed in after that, my life may have turned out a little different.

“So, did you find anything interesting on SugarLife?”

I startle and almost burn myself. Reaching for the toast, I drop it onto two plates and carry them over to Oakley at the small four person table, doing my best to act like her words haven’t set my heart to racing. “Not sure, to be honest. I scrolled through what felt like hundreds of invitations last night.”

“Yeah, the filters are your friend,” she replies as I turn back for the bacon and place it on the table as the eggs sizzle in the background. “Want a coffee?”

I nod and check on the eggs. Almost there. “That would be great, thanks. And, yeah, I did save a few, but I’m hoping to check out as many as possible, see what interests me.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Honestly, two or three dinner dates a week, with a kiss when they walk you back to the car, and you’ll be making bank. Creamer, sugar?” I hear the thunks of two mugs being put on the counter.

“Yes to both. Is that how many you do?” I keep my voice nonchalant. If I get that brat gig, then I’ll only need to do the one. Which means I’ll need to come up with a cover story about why I’m not using the app but suddenly have a bunch of cash. I’ll just tell Oakley that I couldn’t go through with additional dates.

And I’ll definitely need to get a job to cover up my spending.

Easy peasy.

Or I could just tell her what I’m looking at.

Before I can entertain the idea, a coffee appears by my hand. “Yeah. Friday and Saturday nights are the easiest. But I usually do one on either a Monday or Tuesday. And I have my regulars as well, so I only really use the app if something interests me or I want the extra cash for the week.”

I take a sip of the hot beverage. Mmmm. “Nice. Okay, well, I’ll take another look today. Maybe pick a few. What are the chances that the gu—daddy will accept me?” I trip over the title, because it’s still weird.

Daddy.

Will I have to call them that?

Brat4Us had the only invitation that I applied for. The rest, while all intriguing, were just . . . meh. Yeah, if I don’t hear back from the four daddies, I’ll reach out to a few of the other invitations I pinned, but I’m honestly putting all my eggs in the one basket. Eggs.

Crap.

I quickly check the eggs. Phew. Not burned.