A Short Story by Emma Lea
I stood to the side of the dessert table, smiling benignly…or what I thought was benignly. It was probably more of a pained smile or a grimace or something similar if the way people were giving me a wide berth was any indication.
I hadn’t wanted to come, but then that was nothing new. I much preferred my own company to that of the current crowd. But I couldn’t miss Janey’s baby shower. She was my best friend if someone like me could have a best friend. I was pretty sure most of the women—and a good proportion of the men—considered Janey their best friend too. She was just that kind of person. The type of person who everyone loved, unlike me. I liked to think of myself as an acquired taste. That was better than assuming the alternative; that I was a boring person with nothing to contribute to any conversation…ever. Crippling social anxiety will do that to a person. Being an extreme introvert didn’t help matters in the slightest.
After far too many awkward interactions with other humans, I’d taken my stepmother’s advice to heart. ‘Just stand there and look pretty,’ she would always tell me after a spectacularly failed attempt at being social. Once I was old enough to make my own decisions about whether or not to venture out into polite society, I chose not to. Except for this. Except for Janey’s baby shower because she was my best friend and had been for as long as I could remember and I would do anything—even brave the evils of mixing with other people—for her.
I’d even attempted to contribute to the party by bringing the required ‘plate.’ Which was why I was standing guard by the table and not finding a less conspicuous corner to hide in.
A woman I knew peripherally approached the table and I watched as she reached for the chocolate cupcakes sitting on a raised cake plate in the centre of the table. Jane had placed them there herself, which just made the whole thing even more embarrassing.
I shook my head at the woman, hoping to warn her off. Her hand paused on it’s way to a cupcake, and she looked at me and raised a questioning eyebrow. I shook my head again.
‘I heard the caramel slice is to die for,’ I said, thankful that my voice actually sounded normal. I didn’t use it much, and sometimes it came out rusty sounding, or it cracked in the middle because of my nerves.
The woman changed the direction of her hand and took a piece of caramel slice instead, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Is there something wrong with the cupcakes?’ a deep voice asked in a rough whisper from beside me.
I jumped, incredibly grateful I didn’t also scream in fright, and turned to see the most beautiful man I had ever seen smiling down at me. No, I mean, seriously. The. Most. Beautiful. Man. In the whole entire world. He was tall, and a shock of dark hair fell over his forehead, his azure coloured eyes sparkled with mirth, and his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile revealing a deep dimple in his cheek.
‘I…I…um,’ I swallowed and tried to slow my racing heart. ‘I didn’t see you there,’ I managed to squeak out. Yep. I squeaked. Like a mouse.
‘Sorry,’ he replied, but I didn’t think he was sorry at all. He seemed delighted to have gotten such a reaction out of me, but then again, with his God-like beauty, he was probably used to women falling at his feet. ‘Mark,’ he said, holding out his hand to me. ‘Mark Bradshaw.’
‘Em…ah…Emily,’ I stammered, hesitantly sliding my hand into his.
His much larger hand engulfed mine, and I felt the tingles all the way up to my shoulder.
I stared at him, my mouth was probably hanging open in a most unattractive way. I wasn’t aware of it, or anything else for that matter, other than the way his hand felt wrapped around mine.
‘So, the cupcakes?’ he asked, turning his attention back to the table.
I slid my hand out of his and folded it and my other hand behind my back, tearing my eyes away from his beautiful face to the chocolate cupcakes sitting oh-so innocently on the table.
‘What about them?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been watching you,’ he said, shooting me a sideways glance before turning back to the table. ‘And you’ve warned every single person away from taking one of those cupcakes. Are you planning to take them all home with you? Are they poison? Do they contain the elixir of life and you’ve been tasked with protecting them until The One True Hero comes to relieve you of the burden?’
By the time he stopped speaking, my jaw was nearly on the floor. He said it so casually. He’d been watching me. I was invisible to most people, not in the incorporeal way of a ghost or another supernatural entity. Still, I was just the kind of person who didn’t get noticed. That was my superpower. I was the Invisible Woman, or I would be if I had a superpower and, well, if superpowers were a thing.
Sadly, they weren’t. I was just a regular old wallflower and most people’s eyes simple glazed past me without notice. But not this man.
‘Um…what?’ I asked when I realised I’d been quiet for too long.
‘What’s wrong with the cupcakes?’ he asked again, flashing his dimple at me. That thing had its own superpower, and it was the ability to strike me dumb in the brightness of its glory.
I mentally shook my head and dragged my eyes away from the dimple and back to the abomination sitting on the table.
‘They’re put-back-down cupcakes,’ I said, not looking at him in case I got caught in the tractor beam of his dimple again.
‘Put-back-down cupcakes?’ he asked curiously as if he was actually interested in what my comment might mean.
‘You’ve never heard of put-back-down cupcakes?’ I asked, feigning surprise that he didn’t know about the miraculous ability these particular cupcakes had.
He shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t say that I have,’ he said slowly before turning to me, his gaze capturing mine. ‘What are put-back-down cupcakes?’
‘Oh, well, you know, you take a bite and then put them back down,’ I replied. When he just looked at me, puzzled, I rolled my eyes and sighed. ‘Because they’re so awful. You take one bite and put it back down until you can quietly dispose of it in the nearest rubbish bin.’
He laughed, and the sound broke over me like a wave, but not like a wave at the beach that swamped you and pulled you under and left you choking and coughing because the saltwater got up your nose. No, his laugh was like a wave of melted dark chocolate—the God of chocolate—that swirled over and around me wrapping me up in a burrito made of chocolate…hmm…chocolate burrito…someone should invent that.
‘And how do you know this?’ he asked, once he managed to get control over his laughter. ‘Did you taste one by mistake and then took it as your moral duty to make sure no one else succumbed to their allure?’
I shook my head and then dropped my chin and squeezed my eyes shut. ‘I didn’t have to,’ I said, not looking at him.
‘You can tell just by looking at them?’
I shook my head again. ‘I made them,’ I whispered.
‘What was that? It sounded like you said you made them?’
My shoulders slumped, and I nodded. ‘I did. I made them, and although they look lovely, they’re all style over substance.’ Like me, I thought but didn’t add. Mark must already think I was some sort of lunatic, he didn’t need to have all my insecurities dumped on him as well.
‘Style over substance?’
‘You know, like Paul Hollywood always says on The Great British Bake Off?’
He shook his head. ‘Never heard of him.’
‘Oh, well, he’s this chef, baker actually, I think, and he’s a judge, and he has a thing about food looking good but ultimately being a disappointment when they’re tasted. Like my cupcakes.’
Mark looked at me like he was trying to see into my very soul, and I looked away from him. I didn’t want to make this encounter awkward, not that it wasn’t already uncomfortable, but it was the least awkward interaction I’d had with a member of the opposite sex in, well, ever and I wanted it to stay that way for a little bit longer.
‘Besides,’ I went on, the words bubbling out of me without my permission. ‘There’s supposed to be some super-amazing pastry chef coming today, and because I don’t know who that is, and because I would be mortified if said pastry chef tried one of my cupcakes, I decided it would be just better to warn everyone off them.’
‘A super-amazing pastry chef?’ Mark asked, smiling.
My heart sank, and my stomach roiled. ‘Oh god,’ I breathed. ‘You’re him, aren’t you?’
Before he could answer, I fled. I was done. I was never leaving my apartment ever again, not even for Janey.
🧁🧁🧁
There was a knock at my door, and I groaned. There’d been a knock at my door every day at the same time for the last two weeks, and every day, it was the same thing. A single, perfectly formed, cupcake. My mouth started to water, likely a pavlovian response to the knock on my door, and I pushed away from my desk.
Not that I rushed to the door or anything.
Much.
Who was I kidding? Those cupcakes were the best thing I’d ever put in my mouth and if it meant moving away from my computer to answer the door to get one, then, of course, I would. I’d even started to anticipate them, my mind wandering to predict what flavour combination it would be, instead of being focused on the work in front of me.
I swung the door open, eager to get the cupcake but stopped when I saw someone other than the usual delivery man.
Of course, I knew who had been sending me cupcakes daily, even if he hadn’t sent a card or note or anything with them. Who else would send me cupcakes except for the famed pastry chef who I’d warned off eating my abominable cupcakes?
At first, I’d thought he was making fun of me, and I’d eaten the cupcake out of spite. That hadn’t lasted past the first bite. Seriously. The guy was a magician, or a God, just like I’d assumed the first time I laid eyes on him. He was a cupcake God and his superpower was most definitely seducing unsuspecting women with his baked goods.
And now he stood in front of me. My eyes ate him up greedily. He was just as beautiful as I remembered. I thought maybe my memories of him had been embellished, but there he stood, in the flesh, just as perfect as he was the first time I saw him. And he had a bakery box in his hand. Not just a single cupcake box, but an entire bakery box and my mouth watered.
‘May I come in?’
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, like an idiot instead of inviting him in, or, you know, tearing the bakery box from his hands.
‘I needed your opinion,’ he said, a smile playing around his lips.
‘My opinion?’ I asked, confused, or maybe I was still recovering from the shock of actually seeing him again.
He lifted the bakery box a touch and smiled shyly. ‘I needed your expert opinion on whether or not these were put-back-down cupcakes.’
My eyes jumped from the box to him, and I lost a moment when our eyes collided.
‘Seriously?’
He dropped his head and looked uncomfortable for a bit before looking back at me. ‘No. I needed an excuse to see you again. I thought sending you cupcakes every day might entice you to come into the bakery, but since you haven’t taken the bait, I thought I would come to you.’
‘You wanted to see me again?’
‘You ran out of the baby shower so fast, I didn’t get a chance to get your number.’
‘But you’ve been sending me cupcakes…’
His cheeks coloured, and he bit his lip. ‘I might have asked Janey for your address.’
‘And she just gave it to you?’
‘No, she needed more convincing, but once I assured her I had no nefarious intentions, she gave it to me.’
‘But if you wanted me to come into the bakery, why didn’t you just ask?’
‘I thought the cupcakes were doing the asking for me,’ he said sheepishly.
‘What changed your mind?’
‘I told Janey that you hadn’t fallen for my diabolical plan and she called me an idiot and told me to just come and see you.’ He held the bakery box up again, and I got a waft of vanilla and sugar and chocolate and all the things that weakened my knees…or maybe that was just him. ‘So can I come in?’
I stepped back, opening the door wider in invitation and he smiled, flashing his dimple—an utterly unfair move on his part—and stepped past me into the apartment. I took a breath as he brushed past me and decided it was him that I could smell. Maybe working with all those delectable flavours somehow infused into his skin and made him smell like a cupcake.
God, if that was the case, then I was in deep trouble. His plan had indeed been diabolical. He’d trained me with cupcakes, got me addicted to them and then came to me smelling of the very things I craved. He was a master. A God. Or, you know, a devil in blue jeans.
By the time I came back to my senses, he was standing in my kitchen, dwarfing it with his size, and plating the most incredible looking cupcakes I’d ever seen.
‘You’re worried about these being put-back-down cupcakes?’ I asked.
‘Style over substance and all that,’ he replied with a shrug.
‘You can’t be serious,’ I said. ‘These are amazing. All the cupcakes you’ve sent to me have been amazing.’
‘I think you’re pretty amazing,’ he said.
‘You don’t even know me.’
‘I know enough to know that I like what I see so far.’
‘Style over substance,’ I replied softly.
‘You are the last person I would ever suspect of being style over substance,’ he said, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear.
‘It’s all a carefully constructed illusion,’ I replied.
‘I disagree,’ he said. ‘You intrigue me. I want to get to know you better. I want to know everything about you, what you like and don’t like, what you’re thinking, what makes you smile, what makes you sad. I want to know everything.’
‘There’s really not that much to see or know,’ I replied.
‘Again, respectfully, I disagree.’
He’d drawn closer to me as we talked until he was standing so close I could count his eyelashes. His proximity should have set my anxiety alight, if anyone else had gotten that close to me, I would be a shaking, hyperventilating mess. But Mark had somehow gotten around my defences.
‘So what do you say?’ he asked.
I tilted my head up to him and searched his eyes. I felt safe with him, I had from the first moment we’d met. There was something about him, beyond his god-like appearance and the way he smelled like my most favourite sweet treat. It was as if my very soul recognised him on a deeper level. A level so deep I couldn’t even comprehend it.
‘I think I’d like that,’ I replied breathlessly. ‘I think I’d like to get to know you better too.’
‘I’d really like to kiss you now,’ he said, his voice a dark rumble.
‘I think I’d like that too,’ I replied just before his lips brushed across mine.
🧁The End 🧁