Page 130 of What I Like About You

So I ask Gramps questions I thought I never could.

Why did you ever think premed was a good idea?

When did you know Grams wasthe one?

How on earth did you both end up in Middleton?

Gramps answers every question and it feels so good being able to talk about the past—abouther. Some days, I can tell it’s still so hard for Gramps, but it’s kind of amazing how far he’s come, compared to how broken he was when we got here. Maybe it’s being out of Middleton, but today, he laughs through stories, like the revelation that “Islands in the Stream” started as a dare at a frat party.

I hope this Gramps,myGramps, continues existing when the magic of Boston fades.

I fall in love with Central Square Books.

This store is particularly adorable—each wall is a different bright and inviting color, the floor is a deep blue carpet, and the shelves are a rainbow of categories and genres and beautiful words. I could spend hours browsing just the young adult section. I could spend an entire Maple Street Sweets paycheck here, I’m certain.

“Enjoy Book Nerd Heaven,” Ollie says at the door.

Gramps hugs me. “Eat an extra cupcake for me.”

“Go Red Sox,” I say.

Ollie and Gramps leave me to my books and my cupcakes and head for hot dogs at Fenway Park. Booksellers are in the process of setting up chairs in the event space that takes up the back corner of the store. I peer from behind one of the middle-grade shelves, watching them as they line up row after row. They come in and out of theEMPLOYEES ONLYdoor and I wonder if my cupcakes are hiding somewhere behind that door.

Twenty minutes ago, Alyssa Peterson tweeted a behind-the-scenes photo ofRead Between the Lieswith one of my cupcakes and Twitterfreaked out. My mentions are insane. I’ve avoided Twitter since—the hype is way too much pressure, honestly.

I’m not the only teen aware of the chairs; as soon as setup is complete everyone appears out of nowhere, claiming chairs with tote bags and backpacks. I drop my tote on an end seat in the third row. With a decent seat successfully claimed, I weave my way through the crowded space and back to the YA section. I squeeze past people in tight aisles and wow, when did it get so crowded? Seriously, it’s like I turned around and the small crowd became an Ariel Goldberg mob.

My heart spikes every time my skin accidently brushes against a stranger’s. I weave through the aisles of books, past the long line of teens purchasingRead Between the Lies,and push through the doors of Central Square Books. The cool air feels good against my flushed skin. I collapse onto a bench in front of the store, cover my face with my hands, andbreathe.

It’s too many people and the space is too small and oh my God,my cupcakes—what if everyone thinks they taste terrible and I am here towitnessthe embarrassment firsthand?

I imagine the hate tweets.

OTP cupcakes are pretty … pretty AWFUL!

should’ve stuck to the aesthetics, Kels …

The email from Alyssa Peterson was one of the most exciting things that has happened to my blog, besides BookCon, but I’m overconfident when it comes to my cupcakes. My whole life, everyone has told me how great my baking is. By “everyone,” I mean my parents, Ollie, Gramps, and Nash—AKA the people who would never in a million years tell me that it sucks. For all I know, my cupcakes could be the worst.

If they are, the whole Twitterverse will know in an hour.

One True Pastry will never recover. Maybe NYU will change its mind.

Breathe.

I stay on the bench until the speed of my heart slows down and the panic subsides. Until I find the confidence that brought me from Middleton to Boston with three hundred cupcakes. Until I remember that at every one of my parents’ wrap parties, One True Pastry cupcakes were the dessert of choice for entire film crews.

My cupcakes are themoistest, according to Nash.

They got noticed by Ariel Goldberg. By BookCon.

I am good at what I do. No, I amgreatat what I do.

The event starts in fifteen minutes, so I find the courage to venture back inside the store. I weave my way through the crowd. A semicircle of bodies has formed behind the last row of chairs—and that semicircle is five people thick, with a small gap so that people can walk down the center aisle.

At the end of the aisle, I see the chair that Ariel Goldberg is going to sit in. Two rectangular tables are set up—one for books and wow, yeah, one for my cupcakes.

They look amazing, on display like that next to the book. I got the frosting colorsjustright. It’s a perfect Bookstagram.

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