Piece of Cake | Ashton Irwin [au]

Two

“I don’t think you should make it so big,” I cut in. “There isn’t going to be a lot of people at the wedding, so making a large cake is illogical. Why not three? Maybe just even two tiers? I don’t want you to have to spend more money than needed on a huge cake.” I try to compromise with her.

Ashton glances briefly at me from the corner of his eye and a light curvature of his lips forms. “How about this, I can make a three tier cake for you and charge you the price of a two tier? Your friend here is right about having a large cake. It would be a waste to make one so big that wouldn’t fully be eaten.”

Okay, that’s very generous of him, but that still doesn’t make me like his peachy attitude.

Serena contemplates her options. “Would you still be able to design it the way I want if we do take off a tier?”

“I can make it even better,” he assures, confident in himself.

Oh, you think you’re such a charmer with your persuasive words and generosity? Egotistical bastard.

“Alright. I’ll do that then,” Serena says happily and I roll my eyes at how easy it is for her to make her decision. If we were out eating, she would take at least fifteen minutes to choose a damn entrée.  

“Let me go get the sample tiers so you can see how tall it will be. You can look at the sketches that I have in here for any other ideas you may have while you wait.” He pushes his sketchbook to Serena before finally giving me the time of day. “Ruth, will you help me carry them over here?” I thought he could handle the store on his own?

“Sure,” I respond, scooting my chair back and following Ashton to the kitchen.

The kitchen is completely opposite to that of the front of the bakery. White walls and chrome metal counters and appliances fill the room and the sweet scent of pastries is replaced with flour and sugar. It’s a dull environment to work in if you ask me. On the long middle island, a small section of the counter is covered in powdery flour with a piece of rolled-out dough that has several holes cut into it. On the flat pan lined with parchment paper next to the dough, the cut-out pieces are strategically places next to one another filling the entirety of the pan. I guess this is what he was working on when we got here.

I continue to follow Ashton to the back wall of the kitchen to a large storage shelf by one of the conventional ovens. On the shelf are baking pans of various sizes and shapes as well as white Styrofoam and cardboard tier shapes. He reaches up and grabs the largest circle tier and tosses it over to me; my fast reflexes catching it with no trouble.

“So you don’t like me?” Ashton grins to himself while stretching his arm up to the top shelf to grab the next tier. Shit. “You should work on lowering the volume of your whisper, and if you’re going to talk about someone make sure that they are completely out of earshot.” Double shit.

I find extreme interest in the Bundt cake pans as I wait for him to pull down the next tier. I’ve only had two other embarrassing moments prior to this: the time that I burped during a phone interview and when I used ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ in an advertisement for an author that I was hired to make for. This just may top both of those right now.

“It’s not nice to call someone an asshole when you don’t even know them,” he adds, tossing down the next tier which lands to the side of me. I bend over and pick it up off the ground, placing it on top of the large on I am holding.

“It’s also not nice to assume that someone is getting married when they’re not even in a relationship,” I deadpan.

He laughs and I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing with him because it’s so contagious. “I’m pretty sure being called an asshole trumps being mistaken for getting married.” I stay silent, knowing that he’s right which pisses me off. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He teases.

God, he really is an asshole.

“You know, you’re not really helping yourself change my opinion of you,” I say, moving the tiers onto the cold, metal counter.

“I’m only messing with you so calm down, woman.” Ashton brings down the smallest tier and places it in my hands.

“Don’t call me woman.”

“Then don’t call me an asshole.”

We stare at each other, my face stern while his amused. I want to be mad at him, but it’s that goddamn cocky smirk that gets to me. The corners of my lips curve up involuntarily as I try to suppress the need to smile. I cave and end up bursting into laughter which Ashton gets a kick out of.

“Deal.” I agree to his terms. Even if I can’t call him an asshole aloud, I can still think it.

He stares at me, a smirk no longer present but rather a genuine toothy smile on his face. The way he looks right now isn’t that of a jerk. No, he actually looks like a decent person. If he looked like this all the time, maybe I wouldn’t be so harsh on him.

Ashton ends our staring contest. “We better not keep Serena waiting,” he says while lifting the two tiers that I had placed on the counter.

“Did you really even need my help?” Here I am, holding this small, light tier which could easily be placed atop the other two and it would still be easy for one person to carry, and yet he still asked for me to help him.

“Not really. I just wanted to talk to you. Plus, if you didn’t help me, I wouldn’t have been able to hear your laugh.” Even as I face forward as we walk back to the front of the store, I can feel his eyes on me, sending chills down my spine. I ignore him and walk out of the kitchen, placing the tier in my hand on top of the other two as Ashton stacks them on the table in front of Serena. It’s still pretty big and will definitely be too much for the wedding, but at the price that he’s charging, it’s a steal.

Serena stands up from the chair to get a better view of the sample cake. Her smile grows wide and her eyes light up with glee. “This is the perfect size!” she exclaims and I flinch at how loud she is. “I really want to go over a design plan with you right now, but I just got a call from my florist who told me that my mom is trying to change the order so I really need to go clear things up. When can we meet again to go over the design?”

“Come by the shop Thursday morning. I don’t work again until then.” Ashton ambles over to the front counter and grabs two business cards from the stack sitting there and hands one to both of us. “Just give me a call before you come in so that I can get things ready and give us more time to discuss the plan. I also need for you to fill out this form with your contact information so that I can get a hold of you when needed.” He hands Serena a pre-made form that she quickly fills out.

“We’ll see you on Thursday, then,” she smiles brightly and waves him goodbye.

Ashton catches on to what Serena had said and gives me the same ‘I’m a decent person’ look like he did in the kitchen. “I’ll see you then,” he directs to me.

I divert my eyes away from his and give a small smile that practically says, ‘yeah, whatever dude’. The little bell by the door rings as I hold it open for Serena and follow her out of the bakery without looking back. We don’t even get five feet away from the bakery before my phone goes off in my pocket.

I pull it out and look at the new text message from an unknown number. As my eyes scan the words on the screen, there is only one person who I can think of who would say this to me:

“There’s always room for one non-asshole.”

I take the business card that Ashton gave us and read the phone number written on it as well as the one from the unknown number from the text and to my dismay, they match.

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A/N:

I kind of like asshole Ash. And baker Ash. Ashton in general.

So yeah, second chapter woo!! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please vote, comment, and share this story because I love you and you’re good people :P I’m joking, but it would be nice if you could. I like to hear what you have to say so please give me your thoughts as well as your predictions for the next chapter. Who knows, I might actually incorporate it in the story!

Thank you guys for reading! I love you lots! –Rebecca xoxoxoxoxoxoxo :)