Page 15 of Semi Sweet
With trembling limbs, I walked to the bakery hoping to tell one of the employees my plan, but instead only Sean was out on the floor, making displays of cookies look nice. I kind of wished it was anyone else. Ever since I smacked into him that day, I was embarrassed to interact with him because he probably thought I was insane. When I finally got to talk to him and potentially redeem myself, Evan came and made things awkward. What would he think of me pursuing this cupcake thing? I almost feared he'd tell Evan if I wasn't careful about how I handled it. Then the thrill would end and I'd have to settle for recreating the sensation through writing. I loved to write, but this was real. It was different. It drove me to act.
I'd decided to reply after wrestling with myself. I mused over it for what felt like hours. Poetry wasn't my wheelhouse and I didn't want to sound dumb. I must have written dozens of drafts before I finally settled on the one that I clasped tightly in my hand. I had read it so many times I knew it by heart.
The cupcakes are sweet
Your kindness will get you far
I'd like to repay you
So can you tell me who you are?
I thought about continuing, but nothing sounded good enough, so I wrote the final draft in my best handwriting before I headed to work. If I lingered too long I would be missed or accused of special treatment again, so I exhaled, knew I had no better option, and walked up to Sean.
"Hey," he said with an amused smile. "You've been here earlier than normal lately."
I knew if I didn't say what I needed to I'd falter, so I extended my hand and blurted, "I know you don't want to play matchmaker, but it would mean a lot to me if you gave this to one of your clerks so it got back to whoever is playing this game with me." I'd said it all in one breath, so I practically panted as I waited for a reply.
Sean eyed the slip of paper in my hand before he took it from me and tucked it, still folded, into the pocket of his white work coat. He didn't read it, but would he? I tried not to panic, telling myself that I really hadn't written anything incriminating. As I freaked out beneath the surface, he studied me with a small smirk before he turned his attention back to his cookie display.
"I'll see what I can do," he finally replied, "I guess."
Face on fire, I nodded, no longer able to make coherent sentences. As I walked to my department, I wondered if he would just throw it away. He might have been sarcastic, but he didn't seem the type to be flat out mean like someone else I knew. I wasn't sure if Evan had made me so wary that I was always playing defense or if this cupcake thing had become so important to me, I didn't want anyone messing it up. Either way, there was nothing to do now but wait.
Chapter Nine: I'm Fine, Thanks For Asking
Ittooktwoagonizingdays before I got my next cupcake. I sat through a night of grad school classes practically twitching. Even working on my manuscript, which had become far spicier than my real life, I couldn't take my mind off what cupcake I would receive next, and more importantly, what my mystery person would write back. I wasn't sure why, but I was confident they would. They had enclosed something in every other bakery box so far.
Work wasn't much better. I'd take my break and my heart would practically shatter when no one would call out to me as I passed the bakery department. Then I would scold myself because I was engaged to Evan Quittero. I was supposed to love him and only have feelings for him. I would be his wife some day and here I was feeling heartbroken over something that I might have been reading far too deeply into. It might have been a prank–a new way of getting back at me for being associated with the Quittero family. I needed to be sensible about this! What if the person was a stalker or someone with bad intentions? If I wasn't careful, I was going to be a story on the news.
The suspect targeted the girl by sending her cupcakes and cryptic messages. A double homicide was reported when her fiancé discovered the love notes in her backpack. He took his own life after he finished the deed.
I knew without a shadow of a doubt I should be a writer. My overactive imagination was no coincidence.
I tried to tell myself I was going to have a decent life. It might not be how I pictured it, but I would get used to it. Trying to convince myself only made me more miserable. I was going to have to figure out what that all meant some day, and probably soon. I was going to have to come to grips with reality when we eventually set a wedding date.
On my next shift, the phone rang at the courtesy desk and I jumped so high people probably saw it across the store. It was an inside extension.
"Hello?"
"Hey," an excited voice whispered. "It's Beth from the bakery."
"What's up?" There was no reason to assume this was anything other than Beth asking for an outside line to call a customer or if the small to-go kiosk by the registers needed refilling. Still, my heart felt hopeful that maybe, just maybe….
"It's here." Beth sounded almost as thrilled as I felt. "A new cupcake."
I was ready to tell the girl to rip it open and tell me what was inside when I saw Evan come down from his uncle's office. I exhaled, smoothing my face into the mask that had started to become my primary expression around him.
"Thanks for letting me know. I'll be over as soon as I can."
When I put the receiver down, Evan was beside me. "Who was that?"
Seriously? How was it that sometimes he was so oblivious that it was painful, and now when I needed him to be overly invested in his job, he was in my business?This is a normal relationship,I sang to myself as I attempted to lie. I had gotten really good at bending the truth around him. It was how we avoided arguments half the time.
No, this isn't fiction, it's for grad school!
There was no entry fee for this writing contest.
I wasn't talking about a gift that may or may not be from a secret admirer….
