Page 37 of Along Came Summer

She stares at me wordlessly for a drawn-out moment before finally taking a deep breath and giving me a small, timid smile. “I appreciate that, thank you, but I'm a little clumsy by nature, so you really don’t have to do this. I can take care of it myself if you can just hand me my shoes.”

When she points toward the silver open-toed heels in the corner by the backdoor, I give her an inquisitive look. “I can certainly get your shoes, but you're not moving from here until I clean up all the broken glass. So, if you can kindly show me where you keep your dustpan and brush, I can clean up this mess and be out of your way so you can get back to dancing away and baking.”

A rosy hue fills her face, and she looks taken aback, almost like it slipped her mind that I had witnessed her twirling around the kitchen.

Standing a short distance from her, I don’t pass up the opportunity to study her features closely; her full lips and the smattering of freckles across her cute little nose. An endearing detail that I didn't know I was fond of until now. She’s not the type of girl that exudes sex appeal; unlike Mira, she’s got that sexiness about her that enthrals you. But this girl has a natural beauty and elegance about her that captivates in its own way.

How about you back up now and stop invading her personal space, idiot?

She meets my gaze and holds it for a few seconds before finally speaking up. “Uhm, okay…” She utters, licking her lips and gesturing to the back of the kitchen, “The dustpan and brush are in the cleaning cupboard to the right of the refrigerator.”

I move past the shattered pieces of glass and sugar and head for the cupboard. I turn my head to her and ask, “In this one?” She nods, watching me as I reach for the door handle. As instructed, I spot the dustpan and brush tucked away to the left near the mop. “Ah, got it.” I hold up the pan and brush with a victorious grin. She smiles faintly, crossing her legs at the ankles as I walk back over. “I apologise again for scaring you,” I say once more before beginning to sweep up the glass fragments.

She waves her hand in dismissal and shakes her head. “It was my fault; like you said, the music was loud, and I should have double-checked that the door was locked. I'm just thankful you aren't a psychotic murderer,” she says jokingly, narrowing her blue eyes as she leans forward. “You're not a murderer, right?” she teases. Grinning, I keep on with my task of sweeping the sugar and glass together into a mound so I can easily scoop it up with the dustpan.

“No, not tonight,” I reply with an amused look before glancing in her direction. “Tonight, I'm just Levi.” She smiles sweetly at me, dipping her head to inspect the floor beneath us. “This is generally where you tell me your name.” I point out.

“Oh, right, sorry,” she laughs a little nervously as she introduces herself. “I’m Summer.” I pause in my sweeping for a second and look at her while I consider the name. It suits her well, almost like it’s made for her, like an embodiment of her being—warm, inviting, full of light. While I cleaned up the floor, the conversation flowed effortlessly between us. I find out she’s the bakery's owner; it’s always been her dream to own her own bakery. She’s always loved baking, even as a little girl she would spend hours baking with her grandmother.

Talking with her felt… therapeutic. The more we spoke, the easier it became to ignore the ache in my chest.

“There's no feeling like it,” I say, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest while I watch her gathering ingredients. “When you're completely absorbed in your work, and everything around you fades away. All the self-doubt, all the pain you're feeling just vanishes.”

Summer nods in understanding, a faint smile on her face. “Oh yeah, I wholeheartedly agree with that. No matter how horrendous my day is or how much I’m hurting, the moment I step into the kitchen, turn the music on as loud as it goes and start baking, everything just disappears. I honestly love the feeling when you take all the anger or hurt and turn it into something beautiful.” She explains, smiling prettily, and I watch her while she opens a box of powdered sugar and waves her hand to disperse the small cloud of sugar that emits from the packet and proceeds to carefully refill an empty jar similar to the one that she broke.

“I mean, I can’t say I relate to the baking part since I’ve never baked anything in my life and would probably be terrible at it if I tried, but I get the concept.” Summer lifts her gaze to look at me, her blue eyes twinkling. “So, am I right in assuming that you’re here at one in the morning because you’re in need of burning off some frustration?”

Summer’s nose wrinkles, and she nods as she shakes the box's contents into the jar. “You could say that.” And then she lifts her gaze to look at me fleetingly before she turns and tosses the box into the bin. “And am I right in assuming you were sat out in my bakery for almost two hours staring at a cake because you broke up with your girlfriend or you have some sort of weird vendetta against my red velvet cake?”

My lips tug downward when the ache in my chest reignites at the mention of Mira. “Door number one, but she wasn’t my girlfriend. And the cake is simply divine, but how did you…” I question curiously as I shift my position so I can face her properly.

Summer shrugs nonchalantly, stepping away from the counter to open the cupboard and pull out a bowl. “Well, you came in here last week with a beautiful girl. You seemed to be pretty loved up with one another, and today, you sat at the exact same table,by yourself,staring at the dessert she had that night like it held all the answers you had circling your head.”

The silence that follows is thick and heavy, and Summer let it linger, the stillness broken only by the slight clink of the glass bowl as she set it on the counter. Finally, she offers me a small, knowing smile.

I rub a hand across the nape of my neck and look away. “It’s complicated and far too messy to talk about while sober,” I explain, trying to keep the dejection from my voice. My eyes watch Summer’s when she ducks behind the counter and soon reappears with a bottle of cherry gin. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She croons, smiling while setting the bottle down on the tabletop.

Okay… not how I saw my night going but fuck it. Looks like I’m drinking pink candy-flavoured gin in a bakery with a girl I met just an hour ago.

Well, I can safely say I did not foresee my night progressing like this. Getting drunk alone while baking lemon curd brownies, sure, but getting drunk on cherry gin and baking a mini, rich, layered trio of chocolate mousse cake with the stupidly hot, brooding stranger I’ve seen a total of two times was certainly not what I’d envisioned.

No siree.

Ness is going to die when she hears about this.

Music plays melodically in the background as our laughter lingers in the air. Levi's mesmerising brown eyes stare down—spatula in hand—at the bowl of chocolate cake batter.

“Fold it.”

“Fold what?”

A drunken giggle escapes me as I lean over to peer inside the bowl of batter. “The flour.” Levi gives me a sidelong look, his dark brows fusing.

“How… how do youfoldflour?”

I move to stand to the right, place my hand over his, and gently guide his hand holding the spatula in the Figure 8 motion. “Relax your wrist and just gently scoop the batter and turn it over, just like the number eight.”

“Ah, I see.” Levi mumbles, following my instructions, his brow furrowing with concentration as he slowly and carefully folds the flour into the batter in a figure-eight motion. “Remind me again, why can't we just whisk it?”

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