Sugar (Harry Styles)

1.

“You’re in over your head with this bakery,” the man in the suit said grimly. “You do understand that when the owner left you this place he was gravely in debt. I’m not quite sure if it’s worth taking on.”

“No. I have to. It’s what he wanted and I don’t want to say I didn’t try.” Harry said in a deep voice. His face was twisted into some kind of determined expression. He didn’t think he’d be sitting here at 24 and inheriting the bakery he spent the better half of 8 years working at. It was a small place but it was his second home. The idea that the place would disappear the same way the owner did was heartbreaking to the curly-haired boy.

Years ago his dreams were about singing for millions; being adored for his dimpled cheeks and emerald eyes. However one quick trip to the X-Factor auditions quickly dashed his hopes. He wasn’t the biggest fan of baking but he was good at it. He stuck with it because it was one of the few things he gained praise about. He liked the bakery. He liked waking up early to make the bread and sweets for his town.

When the owner died, Harry was in shock. Granted he was older but he didn’t ever think that someone could just keel over and die. Heart attacks were nasty and unforgiving. The funeral was a sad occasion for the town. It was always difficult when someone within a tight knit community dies. It was like losing a family member or close friend. You didn’t have to know them to really know them.

Harry was hit hard by the death. He had looked to the male as a strong father figure in his life. He had learned everything from him. To think that now the bakery was in his hands scared him. It had only been Harry, Michael and his wife Pamela. Now that Michael was gone, Pamela couldn’t carry on the baking in the same way that Harry could which left him as the heir. Wow. Harry Styles, a baker. Who would’ve thought that this was where he would be at 24.

“So that’s it?” Harry asked cautiously, “Thirteenth Bakery is mine?” He looked up at the lawyer in front of him and watched as the paperwork was placed in front of him. His signature slipped across the page and that was it.

He knew he had a battle in front of him but he was prepared. He didn’t want to let Michael or Pamela or down. Failing Bakery or not, he was going to live out his old friend’s passion. He wasn’t going to let him down without a fight.

As he walked back from Pamela’s house he pulled out the keys to the bakery. The front was simple, white paint and clean glass with a bright blue door. A sign hung above his head and he smiled it was a large number “13” symbolic of a baker’s dozen. He slipped his key inside the door and moved across the checkered tiled floor and into the back.

“I don’t know what you want me to do with this place, Michael but I’m gonna make it work.” He said quietly to himself as he moved around the backside of the counter and to a small office that was built off behind the kitchen. The bakery still smelled of goods from a few days ago: bread, cakes, sweets, scones… it reminded him of Michael and sent a pain through his chest and down to his stomach.

He knew he couldn’t run this place by himself; it was too big of a job. Pamela was done with the shop now that Michael was gone and he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t know how long he would last alone there. It was too much. There were things to do constantly and he needed at least one more person in order to make this work.

Sitting down at the computer in the office, Harry began to post up a request for experienced bakers in the Chesire area willing to work with him. He included details about the bakery and the types of things they confected there. He sighed, his hand sweeping over the curls that hung over his forehead.

“Here goes nothing.” Harry mumbled as he clicked a few places on the screen and there it was. He was asking for help. He needed it.

—

Have you ever reached your hands into the air, outstretched above you hoping someone would grab on?

Have you ever spoke words quietly to yourself when no one was around? It could’ve been just a prayer or a curse. Maybe it was a wish.

Have you ever felt like something was there but in reality it wasn’t? Like thin air felt thicker? It was hard to breathe but at the same time it came easier to you?

That’s because someone was listening. Someone up there heard you. The funny thing is that it doesn’t even have to be someone “up there.” If you call out loud enough someone will hear you. Someone will know you need something.

Sometimes people can read into things that others can’t. They can feel the pain, the hurt, the need behind their words. That’s what Daphne felt. She could hear Harry’s voice in her ears, she could feel the need behind each word. She had never met this boy before but there was something about the advertisement that called to her, begging her to respond.

There was always something special about Daphne. She was always in tune to those around her. People said she was just empathetic and cared for those around her too much. As true as those statements were there was something you couldn’t explain about Daphne. She was always followed, by men, by women. She had an attraction about her. Some people called it subtle sexiness, others called her a whore.

She was a beauty alright, but that didn’t meant she was going around and passing out the tea and crumpets to just anyone. Her auburn hair and gray eyes always seemed to ensnare people. She wanted to help people. It was her calling. She supposed she had her mother to blame for all the extra attention she got. She just wished she was around more; it was hard going through life without motherly advice.

Daphne couldn’t help but feel like maybe this advertisement was a sign that she was supposed to help this bakery and the person who wrote the advertisement, but also that a change of scenery was due. She had hopped around for most of her life, and now seemed like the perfect time to make one more move.