“Mom, I’m taking one of your health shakes!” It’s her latest thing. I don’t know what they put in these shakes, but my mom’s been moving around like she’s on fire for the past week. She’s rearranged the living room like five times, cleaned out the garage from the rafters to the floor; swiping every nook and crevice. I could eat off our garage floor.
I walk to work at “The Fantastical and Fashionable Cupcake Shoppe” and spend a little too much time in the back before deciding on Princess Aurora for the day. The dress makes me feel extra feminine, with all its pink flowiness. The Ariel dress caught my eye, but I’m not ready to deal with any more redheads just yet.
It’s fun arranging the cupcakes behind the glass and putting them in a designated order of my choosing per Fernando’s policy: “Whoever gets to the shop first in the morning gets to arrange the cupcakes.”
Fernando’s muttering draws me to the back of the shop. His wife pops around the corner. “Stop! Fernando is in a funk. I hate it when he gets this way. He says he needs inspiration. Maria Antonia’s absence makes him…” She looks at me in frustration. “El’ esta’ triste.”
“He is sad!” I say in too happy of a tone, but I can’t believe I remembered Spanish from my freshmen year.
“Inspiration. Inspiration. Give me a sec.” I dig through my purse and pull out my mom’s angry girl, Alanis Morissette CD and wave it around. “Here, try this”. The music plays. Fernando smiles at me. He bops his head a little. “Alanis will lift your spirits!” I proclaim.
Blue frosted cupcakes with little shell pieces line the countertop, waiting to be displayed. The shades of blue in the frosting mirror Fernando’s depressed mood.
“I’m sorry, mi amor. My heart breaks like little shards of glass. I miss my Maria. I don’t know why she had to go to another food restaurant. Wasn’t mine good enough for her?” Fernando bemoans to his wife, and I wish the music were louder.
My eavesdropping ears burn with embarrassment. Sheesh. I thought I was dramatic. It must be the artist in him. He continues to putter around the ovens. About thirty minutes later, he brings out the last cupcake for display. It looks like a beach with all of the sparkly crumbles, but there’s a continuous counter-clockwise swirling red line shaped like a bulls-eye target.
“Mira, Katie. It’s a cinnamon spice cupcake with a touch of cayenne.” He holds it out to me. “Here. You name it. It’s your job since you are arranging the cupcakes today.” His emotion stumps me as I try to think of a name.
He looks at me quizzically. “Aren’t you going to taste it? That will help you name it.”
I take a bite. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. It’s a perfect combination of warm, spicy yet sweet goodness with a little cayenne Zinger on the end. “Fernando! This is cupcake perfection! Let me think… you’ve got blue cupcakes with broken shells and then this cupcake. What can I name it to keep the theme going? I’ll name it… “The Treasure of Alanis”.
His sadness turns to gladness. “I approve.”
I scurry off to the display case for one final attempt at the perfect arrangement. My day passes quickly, and I don’t have much time to daydream about Oliver and me in the closet.
I Snapchat JuneBug and send her a picture of the bandana. “Can I keep this without being a stalker? It’s romantic, right?” I still haven’t made up my mind about my Mudpie Mojo. He can sure kiss, but he has a girlfriend, and she’s awfully young…
JuneBug sends me a GIF. It’s a picture of Glenn Close and a bunny in the pan on a stove. “Not stalkerish at all.”
“Harsh, JuneBug. I don’t cook bunnies. Besides, he kept the glove in Little Women. His pining was romantic.” I hit her back.
“Seriously, Katie. Get in the 20th century already. No one watches Little Women anymore. It’s ancient.”
“Little Women is a classic. Just because something’s old doesn’t mean it isn’t worth watching, and just because something is new doesn’t mean that it is.” I hit Send.
“Calm down, Mr. Rogers! You can keep your old movies. IDC. They’re outdated and strange, IMO, but what you watch is your prerogative. JBO.”
“JBO?” I reply.
“JuneBug out.”
“Oh. LOL.”
It’s the end of the workday and I’m ready to go home after working 6:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m. I start my walk home by cutting through the back parking lot. Someone clears their throat. Oh swoon. It’s Oliver, and he’s leaning on a classic old Jeep Scout like Jake Ryan in Sixteen Candles, which should be totally cheesy, but it isn’t. It’s hotter than hades. My weak knees betray me. My mouth waters at the sight of him. My sweat glands turn on like fire hoses. Katie. Get It Together. I throw a hand on my hip. “What are you doing here? Are you, like, following me?”
He smirks. “Nope. You’ve got something that’s mine—I want it back.”
I feign innocence. “Oh, and what would that be?”
Now he looks annoyed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe my lucky bandana.”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t go around pulling closet shenanigans, you wouldn’t lose things; now would you? If I see a…lucky bandana floatin’ around, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’m tired and I’m going home.” Boredom better be on my face instead of the cheesing smile that warms me clean through. My heart pitter-pats as I wait for his response, which is to blink a few times with his lips pursed shut.
I totally won that exchange. I start back on my path toward home.
“So it’s like that, huh? You just going to ignore the fact that we kissed?” he calls out.
Unbelievable. Awk-ward. I wheel back around. “What? Was it a big deal or something? I mean it was enjoyable and all. I’d say you’ve had plenty of practice. I’m guessing it meant as much to you as it did to me—very little.” His frown of annoyance grows. I poke the bear. “I mean, it was a nice way to pass the time. Little red needed something to holler about, and she deserves everything she got, but I don’t like being used. I deserve better than that.”
He actually looks a little hurt by the time I’m finished. Oh well. He’ll get over it. He can go find his other girlfriend if he wants special attention. “Guess I’ll shove off then.” He opens the Jeep door to climb in.
He’s not having the last word. “Be my guest.” I spin back around and walk away. I will not look back at him, though I feel his heated stare. I’ve never been more aware of another person in my entire life, and I’m not sure I like it.