❝ I drowned in every aspect of you ❞
Ivy sees the world through coloured panes of glass, the carvings and grace of the thing we call life.
Reece sees the world through a small frame, a daily cycle with no eye for charm.
When summer camp goes wrong...
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acrasia; noun; lack of self-control
IVY —
Maybe baking wasn't for me, Maybe Lee was right. I should've listened to her before I wound up here, covered in flour and eggs staring at Reece who was attempting and failing to tie his apron. His fingers weaved through the small strings, failing attempt after attempt to tie them in a simple bow.
I was stuck with a toddler as a partner.
I tried to argue against it, I really did.
But after countless minutes arguing with Patricia the lead baker, I was stuck with Reece as a partner.
"You have to understand that we will not work well together." I pleaded, leaning against the counter.
"I'm hearing a lot of this." She said, mimicking a mouth moving with her hand. "And not a lot of baking." She ended off.
My face dropped. I turned around to look at Reece, who looked more than pleased about my failure.
He was such a strange soul, yet the more I was around him, the more intrigued I was. I paid close attention as he tried to measure the flour we had been given, nearly spilling all of it on the counter below. He sighed in disbelief as the flour-dusted his clean apron.
"This shit is dumb anyway." He said tossing the now-empty measuring cups aside.
"Maybe you're just not smart enough to bake, it takes skill you know," I said raising my eyebrows at him.
He glared at me, but instead of snapping back, he grabbed the measuring cup and aggressively scooped up more flour.
He was dressed in a black hoodie, one of which seemed like the entire world's collection of black clothing. But tied around his neck was a lovely pink apron, which believe me, was not easy to convince him to wear.
Confident in his skills he attempted one last time at flattening the top.
The flour spilled yet again onto the already covered counter, leaving a cloud of dust.
"This is bullshit, how do you find this entertaining?" He said stepping away, shaking his head in utter confusion.
I didn't, but I found his struggling much more entertaining.
I grabbed the measuring cup and sifted the flour into it slowly, then using the side of a knife I slowly scraped off the excess leaving a perfectly leveled cup.
Quickly, I shot my head around and smiled at him tauntingly, as I lifted the cup in pride.
His expression stayed the same, not phased by my snarky action.
Smaller arguments filled the rest of our time.
"It clearly says Baking soda, why are you holding the baking powder?" I snapped. The recipe was in my hands.
