Page 30 of Semi Sweet
"I got a little worried there," she said as she handed it to me. "Nothing since you gave me the letter, but we must have gotten a new order this morning."
I didn't want to be mean–Beth and Max were the closest thing I had to work friends in years–but I couldn't help but feel like they weren't being honest with me.
"I feel like all you bakery people are in cahoots with one another," I despaired. "I wish you would just tell me who it is."
Beth half smiled. "I know." She patted my hand. "I hope you find out everything very soon."
I wanted to scream because that didn't help me at all, but instead I took it back to my booth, checked my phone, and decided I had about an hour until I had to head to the train station.
My mystery person was back to giving me cupcakes. Today it was all chocolate, a moist cocoa cake with fudge frosting and chocolate shavings, complete with a maraschino cherry on top. I did my usual ritual of taking a picture of it before I took a bite. It was absolute heaven, too good for Cash Value Market. I opened up mySemi Sweetaccount and added the photo with the captionBack with a new sweet treatbefore I went through the notifications. I'd gotten a bit lax about posting when I was having my existential crisis about getting physical with the cupcake artist. A lot of my followers were asking for an update. Hopefully, this would satisfy them.
I took my time enjoying the cupcake. I told myself I was still trying my hardest to accept Evan as my chosen one and it didn't matter to me what my mystery person had written back. It wasn't long before I was swearing at myself because I couldn't take it anymore and I had to know. I pulled the envelope from the box and unfolded the contents. It was typed this time, which I appreciated, though I felt like I was starting to get used to the sloppy handwriting I reread hundreds of times trying to gather some sort of clue.
Dear Olivia,
We're allowed to write letters? Why didn't you say so? It would have made my life easier to stop writing poetry weeks ago. It's all for the best. I really wanted to impress you and I hope it worked.
I would love to learn everything I can about you, too. I would love to know what you are writing that brings you so much joy. I see the way you smile when you work on it, so I know it's not a paper for school. I want to know your birthday, your dreams, what you're afraid of, and your deepest, darkest secret. Honestly, I think I have an idea of what that might be. I'm sorry for that.
I'm not sure what you decided to do about what we did after the party, but I know there is a reason why you can't leave. It must be pretty serious if you are willing to let him yell at you in public and treat you like you're an idiot. I know I don't have to tell you this, but Olivia, you are not an idiot. I do question why you would let people in this store abuse you and be mean to you. No job, no people, are worth that.
I probably should have told you who I was, but there is a part of me that doesn't want this to end. I feel like once you know who I am, you might not be happy. I just want to make you smile, even if it's only briefly. I will say that yes, you have talked to me before the masquerade. I try to talk to you every day you are at work. Sometimes I wish it could be more because my life is pretty lame outside of Cash Value Market.
Until next time,
The Cupcake/Baked Goods Guy
I felt like my pulse was wired through the store's sound system. Nothing torrid, no desperate declarations of love, and yet I felt like everything I had been working on this week with my feelings for Evan and the life I was going to have were thrown off kilter again. Did Evan know what my dreams were? What scared me when I was trying to sleep at night? Right now, I wasn't sure what those things were.
"I try to talk to you every day you are at work," I repeated aloud.
Once more, my stomach fluttered with butterflies. Bruce didn't count. Neither did anyone on the front end. I'd already come to the conclusion that Max wasn't the guy, so that only left….
"No way." I collected my things and slung my backpack over my shoulder. "That would be insanity. Career suicide."
I didn't even want to think of who continued to cross my thoughts. Maybe it was denial or maybe it was because I didn't want to incriminate the wrong person, but as I rode the train and later sat in the back of my class rereading the note, I was finding it harder to deny.
I had a feeling this would all be coming to a head soon.
Chapter Sixteen: Confer Upon
“Listentothis.”
I was broken from my concentration by the sound of Evan’s voice. I’d been rereading the Rocky Mountain Press's internship information. It had been nearly eight weeks and I still hadn’t heard anything from them. I was double checking to see if they would let me know if I didn’t get accepted, because sometimes publishers and literary agents couldn’t get to everyone. I did notice on one of their social media pages that they mentioned being swarmed with applications and I didn’t know if that made me more or less hopeful of my chances.
Evan was eating his Mexican takeout from his usual spot. No bourbon yet, but I knew it was coming after he was done with his final enchilada. I looked up from my laptop, expecting to see something on the TV. Instead, I saw my fiancé's almost excited face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the expression on him.
“My parents and Grandma Detta have been talking. It’s not official or anything and I have no idea when it would start, but we might have a job for you in the company.”
I kept my face as neutral as I could muster. I thought I at least had until I graduated or got married before we were going to have this conversation. The thought of working for corporate, of turning into a miserable shell of myself like Evan, filled me with dread.
“Oh?” I asked.
He nodded excitedly as he chewed his food. After a sip of the soda that had come with his meal, he explained, “Marketing is always looking for new sales strategies. The conference talked about having a social media presence and keeping a daily blog. You write all the damn time, might as well get you doing it for something actually useful.”
Attempting to ignore his backhanded compliment, I tried to be open-minded. I would be doing what I was going to school for, and it was probably the only way Evan would accept my passion...for now, at least. It was also a way I could get away from all the nasty people who would probably still talk about how the corporate job was gifted to me months after I left.
“That was nice of them.”
