The Nerd Owes Me Cupcakes [Editing]

Chapter 8: Denial Hit Me Like A Brick (Part One)

Chapter 8: Denial Hit Me Like A Brick (Part One)

"He loves you. He loves you not. He loves you. He loves you not. He loves you. He loves you not. He loves you!" Kelly, exclaimed cheerfully plucking the last petal off of a daisy.

"Wait, you missed one. He loves me not" I smile plucking off the pedicle and throwing it into the recycle bin beside me.

"Way to go. Ruin a flower's hope of living." She muttered, sarcastically taking out a pan of freshly baked whole wheat doughnuts out of the oven.

I digressed. "So, are you taking Vince to the wedding as your plus one or Aven?" I asked, changing the topic into an even worse topic because I knew I would get a similar question in return.

"Could we not talk about this right now? Like I said, my life is stupid." She sighs resting the tray onto the table

"The wedding isn't too far away. We should talk about this." I insisted.

"Okay, have you bolted up the courage yet to ask Carter?" She smirked in pleasure leaning against the refrigerator.

"On second thought, I'll go see if Rita needs any help." I scratch the back of my neck nervously and exit through the two doors.

"Those tarts are definitely worth the wait, deary. Just like mother used to make em" An old lady in her late sixties gave a warm affectionate smile to Rita tapping the glass frame.

"They do take an awfully long time to make, Ms. Cattrina." Rita laughed, brushing her falling fringe out of her face.

"Good day, ma'm. Hey, Rita. I was wondering if you needed any help." I said trying not too rudely interrupt their conversation

"Actually, I'm glad you asked. Tables; four and five haven't gotten their orders yet. Mind taking care of it for me?"

"No problem." I replied before tiptoeing to grab a pencil and notepad from off the hanging shelf beneath one of the menu boards.

I opened the small door that separated the counter area from the dining area. I decided to start at table four first since table five would bring up horrible memories; if you know what I mean.

"Welcome to Claire's Confections. Where not only the workers, but the pastries wear a smile. How may I help you?" I repeat the usual creepy slogan to the female customer that has her face buried in a teen magazine.

But then the familiar purple beret gives her away. It's Madison Fall. I swear she has like a variety of different color berets. But like I introduced before. Madison Fall. Also known as Lincoln Vale's communicative "Gossip Girl". She has a way of twisting facts. Transforming them into unrealistic rumors that I'm surprised people actually believed.

"I've always wondered about your bakery's slogan. How can your pastries wear a smile? Do you make them out of people that--" She starts but then laughs it off.

"Sorry, I tend to ramble on." She apologizes. "A lot."

"Its okay." I say, readying my notepad and writing utensil.

"I'll just have an apple turn over. Nothing too heavy." She smiles, brushing a strand of her straight cherry red hair behind her ear.

"That's one non heavy apple turn over. Anything else?" I ask her, scribbling down the order even though I could just remember an order as simple as that.

"That's all. Hey, can I see your hand writing?" She smiles, straightening up in her seat trying to glimpse my notepad, but I move it away a little.

"Why?" I ask her curiously

"Uh- no reason in particular. It's just--" She pauses. Her gaze at the bakery entrance. Suddenly she begins hiding her face with her beret, looking down at the table.