Baking With Boys |✔

39. Sweet Bun

Bella nudged me. "Let's go."

"Where?"

She tilted her head towards the door, where the rest of the contestants were going out. "The round will be over soon. Standby position."

"Oh, okay." I flattened my hair with my hand, in case they had rebelled while I was sleeping. I even added a couple of face stretches, to make me seem more awake.

The fourteen of us took our position in the shadows of the filming crew. I could see Brandon's outline close to the kitchen counter, but nothing more. The clanks of utensils and the sweet scent of baking filled the hall. But today the atmosphere was different. The banter, the small arguments, and bursts that filled the space each round was replaced by occasional grunts and individual curses. It made me aware of how efficient our teamwork was. And how incomplete it felt to work alone.

"Time over!" Matt announced, snapping me out of my trance. I tiptoed to catch another glimpse of Brandon, but the heavy camera equipments blocked the view.

"Contestants, please join your team members." I went back on the balls of my feet. The line didn't move fast enough. One by one, all of us entered back into the kitchen. Delighted sounds and embarrassed laughs filled the hall. My feet gravitated towards Brandon, and I exhaled when my eyes fell upon him. He had a shy smile on his face. When our eyes met, one of his hands went up, and smoothed down imaginary flyaway hair on his head. His apron was a mess, splattered with orange juice and glaze. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the patches.

I raised my eyebrows, a small smile playing on my lips. He mirrored my motion in response, and then giving a shrug, broke out into a grin. He motioned from his head to the plate in front of him. I followed his line of sight.

"Oh." The sole syllable left my mouth. I circled around the counter, taking my place next to him, yet my eyes stayed glued to the extravagant delicacies in front of me.

Brandon had outdone himself.

He chuckled, flicking my forehead back with his index finger. I hissed, rubbing the spot. He added, "Wipe the drool off."

There wasn't any, but I humored him with attempting to wipe off the imaginary drool. The cupcakes glistened under the studio lights, a sun-kissed orangish glaze making them mouth-watering. Another batch had coffee-colored frosting on them, and yet another one with the wispy orange frost. It was all mixed and matched like a high-end tea party set, waiting to be chosen and devoured.

"I have a few you can taste." He bent down and took out a tray filled with extra cupcakes. I did a double take. He explained, "We had a whole bowl of batter."

I took the one he offered me. It wasn't as if we could present the dish without knowing the taste ourselves. How would I understand their critique then?

That's how I convinced myself, and bit into the sugary sweetness. The fluffy frost melted in my mouth. I had chosen the coffee flavored frost cupcake, and the frost was surprisingly sweet. Sweet enough to balance out the strong coffee flavor and make it seem mild in comparison. The cupcake itself was soft and light, breaking down easily as it hit my tongue. Orange blended with the coffee, the bitterness, the citrus hint and the sweetness, making an explosion of flavors in my mouth. It was a while before I could open my mouth, relishing in the sensation.

"I think we should smuggle them out."

Brandon muffled his laughter. "Were they that good?"

I nodded, smiling. No words were needed. I frowned when Brandon kept staring. With amusement, I asked, "What?"

"You've got a bit of frosting on your lips." He pointed to my lips.

I playfully punched him. "You should have told me sooner." With the cupcake still in my right hand, I swiped my left hand around the corner of my lips, but nothing came up. "There isn't anything!"