“Hand it over, now!” I shriek, gasping for breath. He just looks at me, blankly, then raises the knife and points it at me.
“Wait your turn,” he says, waving the sharp metal object around before turning back to the cake in front of him.
“You said I could do the icing!” I complain, tugging at his shirt.
Max sighs, “Ainsley, seriously.”
“It’s not even for your friend! And you shouldn’t be waving...