Page 12 of Baking Battles

“What about my tight butt in these pants?” Magnus shouts back, not skipping a beat.

“Yum.” Pablo teases.

“Watch it, biscuit boy.” Magnus warns, picking up a broken shard of something surprisingly purple from Pablo’s workbench. “What is this?”

“Lavender shortbread.” Pablo sighs. “Both nutritious, calming and pretty. Just like Mattias here.”

“Pretty indeed.” Magnus says, and looks back at the biscuit. “Don’t think I want to eat it though.”

“It’s pretty to look at though?” Christopher tries, as his eyes wander back to Mattias.

“You okay, Mattias?” He almost whispers as Mattias buries his face in a stray tea towel.

He means to say yes, but then, he doesn’t. Not really. Because this is one of those things that has spiralled a little bit out of control. Where he should have reined stuff in from the start. Keep his mouth shut when he still could and his head down where it belongs.

He should never have agreed to this. Never have let Danijel talk him into this. Because he knows how these things start. How someone says something that becomes something else, and then everyone assumes, and nothing is ever the same again.

The worst thing is, it’s not true. There is nothing about Mattias Strømme that is true, or even real. Nothing. He’s nothing. And that is kind of the only truth.

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