The very next day I was already back outside Everett's house.
I tugged at my collar and ran a hand through my hair. Checking my watch, I realized I had perhaps come too early. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to decide whether to ring the bell or whether to come back later.
The door swung open and Everett glared at me. "What are you doing standing out there for so long?"
He was wearing light blue denim shorts and a white T-shirt that looked good against his olive skin. His hair looked like he had tried hard to brush it, but it still stuck out wildly. It sort of reminded me of a cute hedgehog.
"I just got here," I protested.
He rolled his eyes. "I saw you through the window dude. Come on in."
"Have you decided what we're baking today," I followed him to the kitchen, "or do we have to find a good story first?"
"I already found one! I was reading all night."
"You stayed up all night reading recipe stories?" I asked in amazement.
"Er, that amongst other things. Anyway." Everett brightened. "We're making cupcakes!"
"Oh okay, I've done those before."
"We're making a hundred cupcakes."
"Okay, I have not done that before." My jaw went slack. "Why a hundred?"
"The cafe is hosting some kid's birthday tomorrow," he explained. "There's a whole party happening on the rooftop area."
"Are we making themed cupcakes for it?" I asked uncertainly.
"Ahh." Everett pondered. "They said the party was going to have a fairy theme or something; it's for a six year old. But they said I can just make chocolate cupcakes. I'm putting ganache in them."
We stepped into the large kitchen area. It was fully set up with bowls, mixers, and everything, and stocked with a ton of ingredients. I gladly noted that there were several large ovens.
"What temperature should we preheat these to?" I asked.
"Oh I don't preheat the oven, I just put the stuff in and then turn it on."
I frowned. "You can't do that, the baking time would take longer than what's mentioned in the recipe."
Everett stared at me blankly. "The baking time is always longer though. I have to hang around and keep checking it every five minutes."
"Because you never preheat—nevermind, I'll just put it to around 325º F."
I twisted the knobs around and selected the cupcake setting. Everett started placing the cake liners in the muffin pan.
"We could make some fondant," I suggested, "and create some flowers and fairy wings to decorate the cupcakes. And we can use the edible shiny little gold balls."
"You know how to make those?"
"Not the fondant," I admitted. "But if we find a recipe I can create the decorations."
"I can make fondant, but anything I try to make out of it looks terrible."
I grinned. "I imagine it would."
"Hey!" He smacked me lightly. "You don't have to agree!"
I laughed, checking the recipe to measure out the exact ingredients of everything. Ignoring Everett's suggestion to just 'put whatever is there,' I divided them equally into several large bowls. He dragged out a carton of eggs as I started whisking the dry ingredients.
"Ugh, this is my least favourite part," Everett moaned, suddenly smashing an egg against the side of a bowl before dropping it in.
"Wha- why are you doing that," I asked in shock as he started painstakingly fishing out the bits of shell from the cracked egg.
"It takes sooo long, sometimes the whole day even," he complained, his hands in the yolk.
"Just throw that away and break another egg properly!"
"They all break like this."
"They're not supposed to—"
Everett gasped suddenly, snatching his hand away. "Ow!"
"What happened?" I asked, moving to take his hand.
His fingers were thinner than I expected, with a faded burn along the knuckle of his pinky which I assumed was a careless baking accident. His palms were rough, littered with lines that made an intricate pattern. They reminded me of the dappled shadows created by sunlight streaming through leafy trees.
"It pricked meee," he wailed as I dragged him to the sink. "They should, like...create an egg and shell separator thing. I saw an egg separator once and got really excited, but it was only to separate the yolk—and even that didn't work because the yolk and white are already mixed together when you crack it," he babbled.
I was certain he shook the eggs around before cracking them. But that seemed like a whole other conversation to get into.
"Maybe leave the eggs to me," I suggested as I squeezed some detergent onto his palm and then ran his hand under a cool stream of water.
He gazed at me with huge bright eyes that made my heartbeat falter and come to a halt. "Thank you, Clementine."
"Yeah uh...no problem."
I dropped his hand like hot lava. He didn't take his eyes off me as I felt my face starting to warm up.
"Allergic to something?" he murmured, his voice suddenly soft. It's deeper than usual cadence was making me hot all over.
"Just random allergies," I hastily reassured.
We were still standing by the sink, inches away from each other. From this distance I noticed that he was slightly taller than me. His curly mop of hair stuck out and added to the impression.
His face was so close to mine that I was sure he could hear how fast I was breathing. My palms felt sweaty; I was glad they weren't still touching him.
I gulped, taking a step back. "I guess I should uh...crack the rest of those eggs. You can mix the flour and stuff, but make sure you use a low setting."
Everett shrugged, seemingly unaffected. We got back to work and finished up the batter and ganache, for a bit more than a hundred cupcakes. I decided I was glad that there was so much to be done, and that I didn't really have time to daydream.
Because, for a moment there, I had almost wanted to kiss him.
A/n: reading lots of onc books? You might enjoy this story by guywortheyauthor
It's sort of like if Wednesday and Enid were lovers, but also dungeons and dragons characters, and the dungeon master keeps trying to kill them off.