Was it a date? He said it wasn't. But we were alone together. That's basically a date, right? Or is it not a date unless you say it's a date? Or...
"Argh!" I grunted, rubbing my temples and staring at the ceiling, playing mental connect-the-dots with the bumps.
What time is it? 2:00? Ugh... damn it all.
I didn't think this would bother me. This whole "was it a date?" nonsense. I thought I'd be able to rest comfortably knowing we both had fun, and that's all that mattered. Hell, I was exhausted by the time we were done. If anything, I should've crashed. Instead, I've spent the last two hours mentally plucking flower petals.
It was a date. It wasn't a date. It was. It wasn't. Was. Wasn't. Was. Wasn't. The petals seemed endless.
I never said date when I invited him. It never crossed my mind. I just wanted to chill out with him, and maybe teach him something in the meantime. And it was casual for the most part. Nothing "romantic" until... the accident.
Tch... he really had me in a state. Couldn't think. Couldn't speak. All I could do was lay there. I honestly thought he was gonna try and...
...hmph. Don't be stupid, Jean. Why would he want that? Though, if he did... I'd probably melt. He'd have to hold me up. Even the thought...
"Heh..." I giggled. My cheeks feel so warm. I'm playing with my hair again too.
A girl can dream, I guess. But if I ever do get to feel his lips on mine, I'll be the luckiest girl in the world.
I sighed. I can't stop thinking about him being on top of me. It was so weird. Such a vulnerable position, and I didn't mind at all. Well, maybe a little. Half and half. Ugh... I don't know. What I do know is that when he looked at me the way he did, it was as if the boring peace we work tirelessly to achieve was made real.
"Wow. Your eyes. They're beautiful."
I remember it like it just happened. The memory made my heart tingle. It's not just a dream. And I didn't need to wear makeup for it. That one compliment made the weird feelings worth it.
...why can't I sleep then? If I had such a good time, and he did too, why am I so caught up on this "date" thing?
What time is it now? 2:10?
I grumbled. I wish my thoughts would shut up and let me sleep. Maybe it's because in the back of my mind, I know it can't be the first time he's complimented a girl like that. I'm sure he's complimented Dunkerque tons. After all, she's way prettier than me. A lot of the girls here are. I know Richelieu said otherwise, but she was probably just being nice.
Jean, this isn't healthy.
It's true, though.
Beating yourself up won't solve anything. You know this.
Then why didn't he think it was a date? We were alone together. Isn't that a date?
I sighed. Even if it was, he didn't consider it one. I guess that's the root of the problem, huh?
"Ergh..." I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and yawning. This sucks. I feel tired, but I can't sleep. Stupid Commander. Did you say what you said out of impulse? Or was it never a date to begin with?
No! Cut the crap! What happened to not relying on anyone but yourself for strength? You're not a weak, whiny, mopey, insecure little girl. You are Jean Bart. Don't wait around for shit to happen! Make it happen!
Hmph... I gave myself that pep talk with such confidence. And I'm pretty much right where I started. Go figure. Easier said than done, though. How am I supposed to make things happen when it could ruin my relationship with the commander? I guess sleeping on his shoulder ain't a bad start, as Richelieu said. It's just... if I do something, I can only imagine some other girl's done the same thing, and better. It's less special. Hell, I'm sure he's kissed some shipgirls already. Or they've done the same to him, or snuck one in.
...wait, no! What am I doing? I gave myself that pep talk for a reason! If I'm gonna be up all night, I should be productive! I've already got him to go surfing with me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. It's a start, but I gotta keep going! Yeah! I can't just sit around and mope!
The only question is... what do I do next? What can I do while the entire rest of the port's asleep?
Hm... well it's too late to surf, so I can't perfect tricks. Ain't wise to surf at night alone.
I guess... I could paint something for him? Is he even into art? I know there's some paintings in his office...
...nah. Even if he is into art, I wouldn't be able to paint anything good enough for him. Besides, I'm not comfortable showing anyone my work.
What else could I do?
Ugh... I don't know! What do guys like?!
Well... um... I-I guess he liked my swimsuit. Maybe... argh! No! I don't have the guts for that! I... no! Why did I even think of that?!
Damn it, I'm no good at this romance bullshit! Why does it have to be so complicated? Why can't I just be like my friends? As strong as Richelieu, as bold as Algerie, or as pretty as Dunkerque. Not to mention Dunkerque could just whip up a batch of sweets with a snap of her finger.
Wait, that's it! Food! The commander goes crazy for Dunkerque's sweets! Maybe I can surprise him with some treats of my own. I can just ask Dunkerque tomorrow to show me...
...crap. I can't just ask her to teach me. She'll definitely ask where the sudden interest came from. What the hell do I say then? I don't wanna lie again. Or blow my cover. I don't need someone else knowing about my crush.
I guess I gotta go incognito. But when can I do it? There's almost always someone in the kitchen chowing down on Dunkerque's plethora of treats. She always keeps the fridge stocked. And if nobody's eating her treats, Dunkerque herself is in there making them. That means the only time I'd have the kitchen to myself is...
...right now.
Oh God... am I really about to do this? Bake in the middle of the night? I mean, it's not like I'm sleeping anytime soon. And it can't be that hard, right? I've seen Dunkerque bake tons of times. Most of all, if it could make the commander smile...
Damn it all. Guess I gotta put some pants on.
----------------------------------------
What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? It's the middle of the night! I should be asleep!
Those were my thoughts as my feet carried me to the kitchen. I grit my teeth as I contemplated how I arrived at this point in my life. The mighty battleship Jean Bart too embarrassed to admit she has a huge crush. And now she's about to bake in the middle of the night because her thoughts are giving her insomnia. How rich.
Before I knew it, I arrived at the kitchen. I walked over and turned the stove light on, as to not blind myself with the kitchen lights. It wasn't much, but it would do.
Ugh! This is so stupid! Why am I doing this?! What if I get caught?! What the hell do I say?
I guess that's a risk I gotta take. I feel like such an idiot. Let's just find a recipe. I don't have to make the whole thing. A tiny sample batch would be a good start. Let's get to it. No time to waste.
I walked over to the shelf holding Dunkerque's myriad of cookbooks. But instead of going for a published cookbook, I grabbed Dunkerque's giant binder of recipes. If there's a recipe in this binder, it means Dunkerque enjoyed the hell out of it and has perfected it. And I know for a fact she reads this thing a lot. Hell, she was looking through it for the mint donuts I helped her with.
Good lord, this thing's heavy. I carefully and quietly place it on the counter and meandered through the tabs. Tea... drinks... dinners... breakfast... aha! Desserts!
Alright, now I just need something simple and quick. Shouldn't be too hard. Hmm... this thing is impressive. Every page is so neatly formatted and consistent. I'd expect nothing less from Dunkerque. Let's see what we got.
Gateau? No. Baking that's gonna take too long. Lemon tart? No, same issue. Although, thinking about Dunkerque's lemon tarts is making my mouth water. Chocolate? Ergh... no. That has to chill overnight, and it's already overnight. Truffles? Gotta chill too. Crepes? Too hard. Macarons? Maybe...? Wait, no. The recipe says they've gotta sit out for an hour.
Damn it, all of these will either take too long or are too hard. Or both. I'm gonna be browsing this damn recipe book all night at this rate. Won't have time for actual baking.
Wait. What about donuts? Those usually don't take long.
I flipped through the pages and... here! The recipe for those chocolate, peppermint-icing donuts the commander likes. I can almost remember how much he beamed when Dunkerque showed him a full platter of these bad boys.
Alright, I got a recipe. Am I really about to do this at... what time is it? 2:45 in the morning? Once I start, there's no going back.
...argh! Indecisiveness will get you killed, Jean! You're already here, you're wide awake, just start already! Besides, imagine the smile on the commander's face.
I sighed. Let's see... how many donuts does this recipe make? Ten? I don't need that many. Let's just do two as a test run. Less mess, less cleanup, and less of Dunkerque's ingredients gone for her to notice. Speaking of which, what do I need? Flour, powdered sugar, baking powder, eggs...
I searched the kitchen and gathered up all the ingredients I needed. That didn't take long. What did take a while was getting dishes and measuring tools out. They seemed to cling and clang about ten times louder than normal. The mixing bowls were up in the cupboard and I really had to be careful while getting those down.
Thankfully, I was able to get all the necessary equipment with minimal racket. Now I could actually start throwing things together.
I delicately and quietly scooped ingredients into a bowl, following the recipe. Good thing Dunkerque has measurements for everything, or else I'd be screwed. Cocoa powder, salt, baking powder, and some flour—
POOF
—ack!
The flour landed and kicked up a dusty cloud in my face and all over my shirt. I wafted the dust away and continued. I got a fork out and started stirring it together, stirring until it looked uniform.
Well, that was painless. What's next? Looks like the wet stuff. Eggs, whisked until... lightened? The hell does that mean? Beaten? Does it just mean beaten? Why doesn't it just say that?
Jean, you can get angry at the terminology later.
Right. I think Dunkerque always just beats the eggs? So I'll do that. How many do I need? For the tiny batch I'm making, looks like just one.
CRACK
Whisk it up, dump it in with everything else... alright, what's up ne—
...I was supposed to add sugar, butter, and buttermilk to the egg first? Damn. Well, I guess I could just add it to the dry stuff too as is? It's all gonna be mixed together at some point, right? It's all the same.
Hold on, melted butter? Don't I have to use the microwave for that? I can't use the microwave! The beeping's gonna wake everyone up!
Wait, I don't have to use it! I can just use a pan and a stovetop!
With a grin, I eagerly but quietly went for a small pan. I plopped the butter in, and within seconds it melted. Some nice thinking on my part. As soon as it was melted, I brought it over to the bowl I had the eggs in. Might as well mix what I can without the eggs.
Alright. Sugar, buttermilk, stir it all together... and add to the dry stuff. What's next? Hm... according to the recipe, I just mix this into dough.
Hmph... this isn't too hard.
But my burst of confidence proved to be short lived as soon as I started mixing and the flour spilled over onto the counter. Some fell on my pants too.
Carefully, Jean. We gotta go quick, but we don't have to rush.
Actually, I should get the oil going. I need it to be ready when I get the dough rolled out.
I somehow managed to get a good-sized pot out without too much ruckus. I filled it with what looked like just enough oil and then turned the heat on. Just on low, though. I don't need it to be hot right away.
Okay, back to the dough. I got a spoon out—quietly of course—and worked everything into some nice, chocolatey dough. Gotta say, for a first attempt, this doesn't look half bad.
It's becoming a bit unwieldy to mix with the spoon, though. Screw it, I'll just use my hands.
I kneaded the dough in the bowl for a good couple minutes or so. It was pretty mixed before I did away with the spoon, but I wanted to make sure it was as mixed as it could possibly be. No bits left behind, especially for such a small batch of dough.
Once my arms were starting to get tired, I stopped. Time to roll this out. I remember Dunkerque always tosses flour on whatever she works the dough on, so I did the same. Not sure how much to put on. The more the better, probably. Dunkerque's usually quite liberal with the flour.
Hold on, it says to let it rest for ten minutes? What time is it? Shoot, it's almost three. I'm running outta time. Well... what difference is a few minutes gonna make? I'm sure it's fine.
I rolled the dough out onto the floured countertop. At least, I tried to. It was damn sticky. I rolled it around to coat it in the flour. That seemed to help with the stickiness. I carefully got the rolling pin out and tried my darndest to flatten it out.
Argh... why won't this thing flatten? It just keeps springing back! What the hell? I've seen Dunkerque do this effortlessly!
I tried it for a couple more minutes, but I either didn't press hard enough and the dough sprung back to its original shape, or I pressed too hard and the dough stuck to the rolling pin. Suddenly everything was starting to go wrong.
Damn it, I can't get two donuts outta this.
As I thought about what to do next, my eyes wandered over to the pot of oil on the stove.
...are there supposed to be smoke wisps coming off the oil? I don't remember ever seeing that when Dunkerque makes donuts.
I went to check, and I could feel the heat without even hovering my hand over. Crap, I think the oil's too hot. Um... I-I'll just lower the heat, then!
I turned the knob down, hoping it'd be at a more reasonable temperature once I got the dough cut into shapes.
Don't panic, Jean. Just keep going. We're almost there.
I've still got this stubborn dough, though. Screw it, I'll just make one. It's just a practice batch anyway.
Now then, how do I cut it? I think I remember seeing Dunkerque just use a small bowl turned upside down, and then a shot glass for the hole.
I went over to the cupboard and carefully grabbed a bowl and then went to another cupboard for a shot glass. I think any of these will do. Maybe this one stacked at the top of this stack of shot glasse—
CLINK CLANK CLANK CLINK CLANK CLINK
I gasped, freezing in my tracks. The shot glass I was going for toppled over when I went for it, falling over and hitting the other glassware and knocked over the glass below it.
Shit, please tell me nobody heard that!
I waited, staying absolutely still for a solid thirty seconds. I didn't hear any footsteps.
Phew. Damn it, Jean. Be quick, but be careful.
I managed to retrieve the shot glass without making another loud noise. I brought the dishes back to the dough, which had inevitably crept back into its original shape.
I sighed. Fine. I just gotta be quick then.
I flattened the dough out as best I could before quickly placing the bowl upside down on it, trying to catch it before it could spring back.
Ugh, what gives?! Why is this dough so damn stubborn?! Dunkerque can cut these donuts like nothing's there! Is she secretly a titan or something?! It's taking so much to press this bowl in!
With some elbow grease I felt the bowl puncture the dough. Eh, screw it, this is probably fine. What does the hole in the center even do anyway? Just a waste of dough, if ya ask me. Besides, I gotta make the most of the dough I have. This was supposed to yield two donuts, after all.
Let's just get this frying so I can go back to bed. The lack of sleep is starting to catch up with me.
Shoot, the oil's still smoking. Ergh... whatever. I can't wait any longer.
I got some tongs out and picked up the piece of dough I cut out, and carefully put it in the oil. It started bubbling a lot, but it wasn't loud. That's a relief.
Wait, why is it sinking? Is it supposed to do that? Crap, did I do something wrong? It's gonna burn if it stays down there, right?
No, Jean. Just leave it. I-I'm sure it's okay.
I waited for another minute, and my doubt got the best of me. I fished it out with the tongs, taking a second to examine it. Hmm... it doesn't look terrible, but it darkened really quickly. Dunkerque usually fries these for a couple minutes or so, but this thing will burn if I leave it in for a few more seco—
"OW!!! FU—MM!!"
I threw my hands over my mouth to muffle my cursing. My fingers were stinging. I didn't see the small drops of oil dripping down the tongs to my hand
CLANK CLANK
The tongs fell on the counter, dropped from my burnt hand.
Shit! That was so loud! Did anyone hear?! Please God, tell me nobody heard that!
Damn it, my fingers hurt! Did I get the donut out? Looks like I did, but it looked almost burnt from how hot the oil was.
Ow... I need to wash my fingers under cold water now. Then I'll clean up.
I turned the stove off and turned on the sink. I couldn't turn it on full blast because that would be too loud, but even a mild stream gave me instant relief.
Ugh... why, in God's holy name, did I think this was a good idea? This was doomed from the start. Dunkerque, like all masters of their craft, makes it look easy. I'll just ask her to teach me another day. Why didn't I just decide that before?! I'm such an idiot! I've got nothing to show for this except burnt fingers.
I didn't even get to the icing, the only part I kinda know how to do.
Oh well. At least I got out of this with nobody knowing about it, and I can pretend like it never hap—
"Jeanie?"
"Gah!!!" I yelped. I turned around and in the kitchen doorway was Dunkerque in nothing but a nightgown and slippers. "D-Dunkerque!!! I-I—!"
"Shh! Keep your voice down," Dunkerque said in a hushed voice.
"S-Sorry..." I said. Damn it all!!! Damn everything!!! Why, of all people, did Dunkerque have to show up!?!?!
I winced as my burnt fingers started to sting again, having pulled them out of the water when I was startled. I put them back, feeling instant relief.
"Jeanie, it's 3 in the morning. What are you doing up so late?" Dunkerque asked. She rubbed her eyes and took a quick glance around the kitchen, seeing all the ingredients and equipment I had out. "Are you... baking?"
Well... I can't really lie about this. She can see it for herself.
"Y-Yeah...?" I said.
Her eyes wandered to the counter where the recipe was.
"Is that my personal cookbook?" she asked.
I just nodded, still keeping my fingers under the cool running water. I could feel how red my cheeks were as she came around the counter to look at the cookbook.
"This commander's favorite donuts?" Dunkerque said.
Shit! Why is this happening?! Why didn't I just go back to sleep?!
Dunkerque looked back at me, giggling and shaking her head.
"Jeanie, if you wanted to learn how to make these, all you had to do was ask," Dunkerque said.
"I-I know..." I said in defeat.
"So why are you up then?" she asked. "It's not healthy to stay up late."
Crap, what am I supposed to tell her? I wanted to impress the commander?
"I... um..." I stammered.
"Hmm?" Dunkerque said, looking at me curiously. "I'm not mad, Jeanie. I'm just confused."
"I-Insomnia," I said. "I-I couldn't sleep."
She didn't look convinced.
"There must be more to this," Dunkerque said. "You're the last person I'd expect to be baking when she can't sleep."
I knew she'd call me out on that.
"Um... I... I wanted to... uh..." I continued.
Words! Say words, Jean!
"M-Make something for the commander."
Dunkerque's eyes widened.
Wait... shit! Don't say that!!!
"N-Not like that!" I said. "I-I just... um... w-wanted to thank him for being nice to me this past week. I-I figured I could make him something and... b-bring it to him tomorrow! I-It's not because I... um... n-never mind. Just a friendly gift. That's all."
Dunkerque looked at me for what felt like an eternity. Meanwhile, my heart was pounding. Did I say too much! I must have!
"The commander, hmm?" Dunkerque said. "You wish to impress him?"
"I-I never said that!" I blurted, immediately remembering that I had to be quiet. "It's... just... a friendly gift. Nothing more."
Dunkerque didn't look convinced. Her face was smug, as if she was onto something. Or as if she figured something out.
Just stick to the friendly gift thing, Jean. What, a girl can't give something to a guy as a friendly gesture?
...I did wanna impress him, though.
"Well, to be candid, I don't think this will be suitable for a 'friendly gift'," Dunkerque said, showing me my nearly burnt excuse for a donut. Eh, who am I kidding? It doesn't even look like a donut. More like a slightly charred beignet. She broke it open, revealing that it wasn't cooked all the way through. The middle was totally raw as if it had been intentionally stuffed with raw dough.
"Ergh..." I grumbled.
"Oh, don't fret, Jeanie!" Dunkerque said. "Nobody expects you to be perfect the first time you try something. There's some terribly difficult recipes that even I mess up." Her attention was drawn to my fingers under the running water. "Did you burn your fingers?"
I pursed my lips and nodded. "Oil dripped down the tongs. I wasn't paying attention."
"Oh, you poor thing. That must've been why you screamed," Dunkerque said.
Ah. So that's what blew my cover.
"Let me get you a damp cloth," Dunkerque said. She fished out a small rag from a drawer and ran it under the water, wringing it out and handing it to me to wrap around my fingers.
"Merci," I said, sighing. "You make baking look so easy, I thought I could do it on my own without help. But I ended up with that... thing."
Dunkerque giggled. "I know you value your pride, but it's perfectly acceptable to ask for help with subjects unfamiliar to you. After all, that's how we learn and grow as people, is it not?"
"Hmph... I guess you're right," I said.
Dunkerque smiled. "All things in moderation, Jeanie. Even pride. Now then, are you really interested in learning how to make the commander's favorite donuts?"
Not a fan of how she phrased that. I said too much. But... if I don't draw attention to it, maybe she won't either.
"If nothing else, I'm curious," I said.
And I wanna make the commander smile.
"Would you be interested in helping me bake for our tea party tomorrow?" she asked. "I can take you through step by step. Including the subtle things that can make or break your final product. And what better test audience than Richelieu and Algerie, hm?"
"Hmm... ya know what? Why not," I said.
Dunkerque beamed. "Oh, I'm so excited now! And don't worry, we can put a couple aside as a 'friendly gift' to the commander."
She winked, and I could feel my cheeks blush.
"Um... y-yeah, sure," I said. "Thanks."
She giggled. "You can be so cute sometimes, Jeanie!"
She gave me a hug, which I grumbled at. Or at least I tried to before a yawn interrupted me. Dunkerque yawned too.
"Let's go back to bed now," Dunkerque said. "I'll walk you back to your room."
"Shouldn't we clean up first?" I asked.
"We'll need all of this in the morning, so I think we can just leave it out," Dunkerque said.
"Fine by me," I said.
"Come," Dunkerque said, leading me out of the kitchen.
So embarrassing. All of that, and all I have to show for it is some burned fingers. I need to figure out how to get rid of insomnia without making a complete ass outta myself.
Soon we were back at my room. Good thing, too. The lack of sleep is starting to come down hard.
"Oh, and by the way..." Dunkerque said.
"Hm?" I said.
"The commander's quite wonderful, isn't he?" Dunkerque said.
"Guh...!" I grunted. "I... um..."
Dunkerque had such a smug look on her face.
"Dunkerque, do not tell anyone about this, okay?" I said. "If anyone asks tomorrow, I just wanted to learn after lending a hand so often."
Dunkerque giggled. "Don't worry. My lips are sealed."
"G-Good," I stammered, feeling myself blush.
"Bonne nuit, Jeanie," Dunkerque said.
"Bonne nuit, Dunkerque."
The door closed, and I let out a long sigh as I walked over and flopped into my bed, not even bothering to pull the covers over me.
Ergh... should've never left in the first place.
----------------------------------------
Longest wait for a chapter is over. Sorry about that. I hit a motivation and idea snag and couldn't get anything written. I'm gonna try some techniques and practices going forward to help productivity, of course not at the expense of quality (or quality as far as I can deliver). I've got some ideas I'm excited to write about, so I hope it turns out well. Thanks for reading, as always! Cheers!