Baking Rivals
Baking Rivals
Often, I questioned why I owned a bakery. Maybe it was because I enjoyed sweets, maybe because I’d always wanted to run my own business. Not entirely sure. Nonetheless, it was worth it. I earned the gift to do what I loved with the person that made me want to pull the tiny hairs out of my neck.
“What are you doing Ida?” I asked my sister. She sat on the counter next to one of our ovens, scrolling through an app on her phone. The oven timer’s repeated beeping was irritating. It’d been five minutes.
She looked up. “What does it look like?”
“Definitely not your job.” I cocked a hip against another counter. “Take the pies out please.”
Ida’s eyes rolled. She hopped off the counter and removed the pies in their tins, putting them on cooling racks. “Happy now?”
I shook my head, a smile forming. Being that Ida was twenty, and I was twenty-six, her younger thought patterns always made me laugh. The way she acted reminded me of when I was her age. Just as snarky, if not worse.
“Sure.” I grabbed the cherry and pumpkin pies and served them to two separate tables. “Hope you folks enjoy,” I said to both tables’ customers.
The pumpkin and cherry pies were our bakery’s specialties, what we were known around the town for. I created the recipes back in middle school. Everyone in my family loved them, and since then, I've wanted to own a bakery, experiment with my craft. By the time I was twenty-two, I’d saved up enough money and I bought this building. I turned it into a place customers visited and loved.
I fist-bumped one of our cashier’s and returned to the kitchen. Ida continued to stay on her phone. “Work,” I scolded with a small laugh.
She groaned.
“What are you even looking at?”
Ida helped up her phone, a picture of our town on her screen. “This year’s festival. I’m applying for a spot at the competition.”
“Why?” I asked, brows creasing.
Normally, we were on the list no matter what. We were so well known throughout town that we never needed to sign up. More often than not, when someone wanted something sweet, they’d journey to us.
Ida pulled her phone away. “I was checking the guest list and saw we weren’t on it. So, I started applying. I’m almost done, don’t worry. I’ll bring the cakes to the display soon.” She pointed her thumb behind her to a pink and black frosted cake,diamond-shaped fondant all over its base.
“I’ll do it.” I took the cakes to the display case at the front of our building, then yielded back to the kitchen. “Why weren’t we on the list?”
“Hell Zachary, you’re asking me like I have all the damn answers. Shut up!” she exclaimed. “Let me finish.” Her face reddened.
Every time she yelled at me, I laughed a little on the inside. Her little temper tantrums had been funny since she was a child.
Refocusing on something else, I used a roller to spread out our homemade puff pastry. After I finished, I put them in the oven. Turning around, I faced Ida, who now stared at me with a beaming smile.
“I’m done!”
I chuckled. I knew she never meant harsh words, so I never took them seriously. She’d get over what was happening eventually. “Who else was on the list this year?”
She opened her phone again then held it up to me. I grabbed it and scrolled through the different names of people while Ida voiced them. “Some random people from the town who bake at home, our bakery, some restaurants that serve desserts, and Charlotte and her friend’s bakery.”
Charlotte. Fucking Charlotte.
Charlotte Brown owned the other bakery in town. She and her friend opened their shop a few months after Ida and I opened ours. Our business was very successful until theirs came. Some of our best customers started going to theirs as much as they came to ours.
Some weeks, stealing business from them was easy. Many customers ventured to our shop because we had better tasting sweets like our pies, cookies, and pastries. But then the customers would talk amongst themselves on how much better Charlotte’s cakes were.
Why did she open her company in the same town, just on the opposite side, as me? Who the fuck knew. But what I did know was that she was losing this year’s competition.
Every year, one of us won. One year, I’d win, and the next year, she’d win.
Last year, she and her friend won, and they held up the sign while standing outside my bakery to gloat at Ida and I. Fuckers.
That wasn’t happening again. This year, I’d take home the victory and place that marvelous sign outside our bakery. We’d have the bragging rights as the best bakery of the year. Not Charlotte.
“What day is the festival again?” I asked.
Ida scrolled through the town’s Facebook page. “The twenty-eighth.” Seven days away. “Zac, it’s literally on Thanksgiving. You know this.”
Too much, I was in my thoughts. And still brain-farted. “Don’t chastise me. After we close, we’re gonna start prepping the goods.”
I started to strut away, making Ida swerve around to face me. “Why so early?”
Usually, we made our goods two to three days before the festival, but nope. “We’re going to make the best pies, cakes, muffins, everything, early. We’re going to make them perfectly then freeze them.”
“Ugh,” she drew out, “You asshole. Why you gotta be so annoying? Changing plans last fucking minute.”
“You’ll be fine,” I told her and left the kitchen to tend to the customers.
~
The day of the festival came quickly. Over the last seven days, Ida and I baked the best pastries ever. So good, we have a perfect shot at winning.
We set up our stands much like the other competitors. Dozens of stands filled with desserts lined the street. Some were run by people who baked at home, restaurants with desserts, and… Charlotte.
Across from Ida and I, her and her friend Mateo, I thought his name was, set up everything they’d brought. Her green eyes sparkled while she spoke to Mateo, directing him on where to place a few pies. Her brown skin glowed like the sun did at dusk. Faux locs over her head were pulled back into a low ponytail, giving access to view the small freckles on her neck that flowed to her cheeks.
As if she felt me staring at her beauty, she turned to her side, peering into my eyes.
Neither of us moved an inch. I wouldn’t be the one who broke first. Slowly, a smirk split her face. She glanced down at her baked goods for less than a second then back to me. My eyes fell to the food. A few of the cakes were decorated with whipped topping instead of whipped cream. Some of the puff pastries had meat in them. The different pie flavors looked like pumpkin, cherry, lemon, and a few others.
Fuck, I bet they tasted delectable.
I’ve never tried any of Charlotte’s creations, despite her bakery being around for a few years. I had a fear that her treats truly were better than mine. That, or she’d poison the one I happened to order, and my company would have to end because I died.
Even though the fear rested in my head, my heart wanted to try one. Maybe in a few years, once I’d nailed down all of the future wins of this competition and secured my loyal customers back. I could visit her establishment, try one of her pasties, and gloat about how mine were so much better.
That was for the future. Today, Charlotte was the enemy. Today, I’d beat her in this competition, I’d earn the bragging rights this year. She won last year, and that’s not an option this year.
My eyes pulled back up to hers. Her smirk was still plastered. She mouthed You’re going down.
I squinted my eyes, pursed my lips. God, she was so annoying. And yet so stunning. As I took a step to round the table, Ida grabbed my arm. “Don’t fucking go over there.”
I turned to look down at her. “Why not? She’s saying we’re gonna lose. I want to throw it back at her.”
“Then you’re an idiot for wanting to engage. Sit down.” Ida pointed to our chairs.
“You know what?” I asked. “I’ll be an idiot.”
I pulled my arm out of her grasp, stomping on the street to Charlotte’s stand. Her arms crossed as I approached. That smirk never ceased. I hated how much I found her to be cute. I said, “Hello Charlotte,” once I stopped at her table. To her friend, I tilted my head then greeted them. They nodded back. Mateo turned to set up more sweets, letting Charlotte speak for the both of them.
She sucked in a breath, her chest expanding. “Zachary.”
The baked goods lining the table smelled, looked even better up close. Drawn on some of the cakes were tiny pictures of orange, yellow, and red turkeys. One of her pie flavors was dark chocolate, but on top were tiny pretzels dipped in chocolate stuck to small pumps of whipped cream underneath them. Some scones were topped with jelly of different kinds.
I wanted to try them so badly. My heart practically begged me to ask her for one.
But instead, I lied and said, I pulled my arm out of her grasp. I stomped over to Charlotte’s stand, my shoes padding against the street. Her arms crossed as I approached, smirk never ceasing. I hate that I found her to be cute. Stopping right in front of her table, I said, “Hello Charlotte.” To her friend, I nodded once then greeted them. They nodded back, letting Charlotte speak for the both of them.
She sucked in a breath, her chest expanding. “Zachary.”
The baked goods lining the table smelled and looked even better up close. Tiny pictures of orange, yellow, and red turkeys were drawn on some of the cakes. One of her pies was dark chocolate flavoured, but on top were tiny pretzels dipped in chocolate with small pumps of whipped cream underneath them. Some scones were topped with jelly of different kinds.
I wanted to try them so badly.
But instead, I lied and said, “Nice pies, Charlotte. Did you use a mix, or did you actually bake them yourself this time?”
Her head tilted. “Oh, Zachary, your sarcasm is as stale as your last batch of cookies. At least my pies don’t look like they were frosted by a toddler.”
“Funny you mention toddlers, because your baking skills are about on par with a preschooler’s play-dough creations.”
“At least I don’t need a recipe for everything.” Her lips pursed. “Some of us have actual talent and creativity.”
I laughed. “Talent? Creativity? Is that what you call burning half your cake two years ago and covering it up with extra frosting?”
She scoffed, then pinched her lips in thought. “Better than your ‘signature’ lemon tart that tastes like dish soap.” A snicker left her. “Maybe you should stick to washing dishes instead of baking.”
My gut twisted. “You know what, Charlotte? I’m tired of your constant jabs. Just because you won last year’s competition doesn’t make you the best baker here.”
“And I’m tired of you acting like you’re the only one who knows how to bake,” she said. “Newsflash, Zachary: you’re not as great as you think you are.” She took a step closer.
I took one too, not showing how nervous I was. How much this conversation made me want to claw my eyes out. “At least I don’t sabotage other people’s ingredients to get ahead.”
Her jaw dropped open. “Sabotage? That’s rich coming from someone who ‘accidentally’ knocked over my cookie tray last week.”
“That was an accident, and you know it.” My eyes rolled. “Unlike your deliberate attempts to mess with my oven settings.”
She exclaimed, “Maybe if you spent less time blaming others and more time perfecting your recipes, you’d actually win something.”
Other competitors and townspeople were watching us. We weren’t insanely loud but definitely noisy. I couldn’t give a damn though.
I said, “Maybe if you weren’t so insecure about your own skills, you wouldn’t feel the need to cheat.”
I had no idea where all of this came from every time I interacted with her. Whenever we were in the same vicinity, we acted like this. It was tiresome, but I committed.
Charlotte’s fingernails bit into her arm’s skin. “Cheat? You’re delusional. This competition is about skill, and clearly, you can’t handle the heat.”
“Oh, I can handle the heat just fine. It’s you who can’t handle the competition.”
“We’ll see about that when the judges taste my treats and realize who’s the real baker here.”
“Bring it on, Charlotte,” I challenged. “May the best baker win.”
A smirk etched onto her face. “Oh, I intend to.”
“And when I do,” I pledged, “maybe I’ll let you take me out for a celebratory drink.”
Her brows raised. “Confident, aren’t we? Fine, but only if you promise not to gloat too much.”
“Deal. But don’t be surprised if I end up enjoying your company more than the victory.”
“We’ll see about that,” she said. “Just don’t get too distracted by my charm.”
I fake hurled. “You wish. Let’s see if your baking is as good as your flirting.”
“At least I don’t need to flirt to get attention,” she said. “Unlike someone who can’t go to a competition without batting their eyelashes at the judges.”
When the hell did I even do that? “Excuse me? Just because I’m friendly doesn’t mean I’m flirting. Maybe if you weren’t so uptight, you’d understand the difference.”
Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. That was low.
She gawked. “Uptight? Maybe I just take this competition seriously. Unlike you, who seems to think it’s a social event.”
Heat sprawled in my chest. “You know what, Charlotte? I’m done with your accusations,” I yelled, nearly. “Just because you’re bitter about losing two years ago doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me.”
“Bitter?” Her eyes squinted. “I’m not the one who wept like a child after losing last year’s competition.”
Shit, my lip curled. My fingernails dug into my palms as my fist tightened and loosened. I looked away for a second. “That was a low blow, Charlotte. You know how much that meant to me.”
A look of something flashed across her eyes. However, she was too deep into this to apologize. “Maybe if you spent less time flirting and more time baking, you wouldn’t have to cry over spilled milk.”
I might have imagined it, but tears lined her bottom eyelids. Did she hate this like I did? “You have no idea what you’re talking about. This isn’t just a competition for me. It’s my passion, something you clearly don’t understand.”
Charlotte whispered, “Oh, I understand passion. But I also understand that you can’t win by charming your way through everything.”
The next words I said shouldn’t have been aloud, but I’ve never been the brightest star and thought before my saying something. “And you can’t win by being a heartless robot.”
Stop it, Zachary. Stop saying horrible things and being an idiot. Even though I said it, that sent a punch to my stomach.
“Maybe if you showed a little emotion, you’d actually connect with people.” That wasn’t true, I thought. She didn’t need to show more emotion if she didn’t want to. Why was I such a dick?
She spat, “Maybe if you stopped pretending to be everyone’s friend, you’d realize not everyone is out to get you.”
Where did that come from? “Pretending? You think I’m pretending?” I asked. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”
“Maybe I don’t. But I know one thing: I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to win.”
I scoffed. “And that’s why you’ll never understand what it truly means to truly love what you do.”
My entire heart crushed into pieces. I turned around, stomping back to my table, wiping a few fallen tears with the back of my hand. What the hell did I just do? Feisty Charlotte was adorable as all hell, but angry Charlotte. That was a side of her I never thought, or wanted, to bring out. I shouldn’t have said any of that to her. Hell, I shouldn’t have fucking walked over in the first place.
I hated arguing with her. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but it never felt right. She wasn’t someone I wanted to throw insults at, yet that's what happened between us whenever we were in the same area. I wished it didn’t.
Ida scolded me when I returned and sat down in my seat, but I didn’t let a word she said fester. I reveled at how my body reacted to Charlotte being upset, about making her upset. The sadness behind her eyes, her anger rolling off her in waves. How fucking stupid was I?
Ida smacked the back of my head. “Ow,” I yelped.
She sat down next to me. “Don’t pull some shit like that ever again.”
~
Thirty minutes passed, and it was time for the competition. The judges (consisting of our town’s mayor, some members of the council, restaurant owners, and random civilians of the town) floated around every booth, tasting the different treats.
Each judge had to try three things. At our table, some of the judges tried pieces of our vanilla cake, pumpkin pies, and lemon meringue cookies, and a few of our other specialties. Others tried different flavours of each pie or cake. Some tried our different kinds of puff-pastries and cookies.
Either way, every single one of them left licking their fingers, slightly moaning in satisfaction.
“This was amazing. Especially the cookies. Great job you two,” our mayor, Mikaela, said.
Ida returned, “Thank you so much.” I nodded with her.
She walked away and visited another booth. Another judge decided to try us. Across the street, I locked eyes with Charlotte. My heart cinched in my chest. She squinted her eyes at me. I returned the gesture. I let out a huff of air, and Charlotte mocked me, breathing exaggeratedly.
Charlotte was attractive as hell, but her attitude ignited a fire under my ass that I wanted to extinguish. I hated her mockery. Not more than the argument previous, but it was a damn close second. She wouldn’t win this year.
One side of my mouth cocked into a smirk. I mouthed, “You’re going down.” Thankfully, the judge was bent down, tasting the sweets. They wouldn’t see Charlotte and I delving into the stupidity we called our rivalry.
The judge in front of Charlotte was doing the same and didn’t see her stick her tongue out at me. My eyes rolled. The judge leaned back up and spoke with Charlotte, breaking our eye contact. While they spoke, I examined the sweets on her table. They looked so fucking delectable. The frosting was perfect, the placement of decorations pristine. The richness of chocolate filled my nose while I argued with her earlier.
What did her treats taste like? Were they as sweet as they looked, or were they savory? My mouth watered at the thought.
Did she wonder what mine tasted like?
Based on our previous argument, I’d guess no. But I wanted to try hers even though I insulted them.
After the judges finished trying everyone’s treats, they had an hour and a half to decide on the winner.
Ida and I traveled around the festival, stopping at the different attractions and stations. A few townsfolk set up tables for arts and crafts. Another station was for wine tasting. Red, orange, and yellow balloons could be bought anywhere. Towards the end of the street, live music performances played. Their sound also filled speakers further away. The festival had tons more to offer.
My sister flicked her tiny paint brush at me. Purple paint splattered on my face. I raised my larger one and threw some yellow paint back at her.
She gasped. “What the hell was that for?”
“Why’d you fling paint on me?” I laughed.
Ida groaned as she tried to clean her clothes with a paper towel. “To get your attention. You fucking spaced.”
“So you put paint on me?”
“Duh.” She wasn’t able to get the paint out. Her eyes hardened as she said, “You asshole.”
My eyes rolled. “Alright, whatever. What is it?”
“My partner is here.” She jerked her head to a restaurant nearby. Anh, my sister’s long-time partner, stood in the doorway. They held an assortment of Ida’s favourite flowers. They smiled at my sister. She said, “I’m going to go hang with them.”
My heart warmed when my sister beamed. She’d been friends with Anh since middle school, and during high school, they finally got together. It was only a matter of time. They made my sister happy, I couldn’t be more thankful for that. Her sassy tone was annoying, but her happiness was more important.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Have fun. Remember to be back at the booth by seven.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Don’t worry, I know.” After her hug, she sprinted to her partner. They kissed one another’s cheeks, temples, then mouths. It was disgustingly cute. They walked out of my line of vision, enjoying the festival.
I was alone now. Wiping the sticky paint off my face, my gaze darted around the other parts of the festival. The smell of turkey, pies, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, and more made my mouth wet.
Thanksgiving was the best time of year. I had many fond memories of extended family coming over when I was younger to celebrate the holiday with my immediate family and I. We all ate delicious food, played fun games. Thanksgiving was like magic.
My eyes stopped moving. They landed on a woman sitting alone at a table with food in front of her.
Charlotte.
Her lips were pursed, arms were crossed. On her right knee rested her left foot. She tilted her head from side to side, but her eyes weren’t open. Her food, a turkey leg and roasted veggies, was untouched. The chair across from her was empty but pushed back. Did her friend leave too?
I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I had the urge to go over to her. I couldn’t though, right? That would be a bad idea. We argued earlier, and I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. She wouldn’t want to see me right now. It wasn’t right. And we were in this competition. If I started acting nice, she’d question me and my motives.
But all of those thoughts rolled over me like a tide when I stood and marshaled over.
The closer and closer I got, the more my heart pounded in my ears. Her beauty unmatched others. Her pink, plump lips. Her long lashes fluttered over the tops of her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, her green pupils glowed in the setting sun. The woman could argue, but her magnetism pulled at my heartstrings.
I planted my feet beside her table. Charlotte’s eyes traveled up my body, meeting mine. They hardened.
I cleared my throat. “Is this seat taken?”
Brows furrowing, she looked at the chair then back at me. “Well, clearly it’s not. What? You come to make fun of me ‘cause I’m alone?”
My chest cinched at her anger. Occasionally, I thought her firefly personality was a lot, but something in me wanted to hear more. Perhaps, I was a masochist.
I shook my head from side to side. “No, not at all.” I threw my hands up in surrender, but lowered them when she squinted her eyes. “My sister went off with her partner. I saw you were sitting here by yourself and thought I’d come see how you were doing.” I offered a smile.
“You want to see how I’m doing?” she asked. An annoyance was in her tone.
I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. I won’t bother you.”
Charlotte looked me up and down once more. Somehow, by the grace of God, she dipped her head to the chair. “You can sit.”
“Thanks,” I whispered. A red flush crept up my neck as I sat down
As much as I wanted to sit with her, this new found silence made me regret my decision. Neither of us spoke for minutes. Momentarily, a waiter came over and asked if I wanted to order anything. “I’ll just take some water. Thanks,” I answered.
After they left, I cleared my throat for the fourth time in five minutes. Charlotte’s lips remained pursed. Her body swayed back and forth to the beat of the nearby music. My knee bounced.
What was there to say? Who was to speak first? I never imagined the tension between us was this thick. We’d always feuded over baking. Now the opportunity to speak freely presented itself, and here we were, not a single word shared.
A few more minutes passed. The waiter handed me my water. “Thanks,” I whispered. Charlotte darted her eyes to my drink. Glancing upward, we locked eyes. I held her stare. I didn’t dare waver for a moment. She tilted her head to one side. I tilted mine to the other, not breaking the staring contest
She blinked first. I kept a laugh to myself, but I couldn’t help the smirk that plastered. One end of her mouth lifted as well. She couldn’t fight it either.
Finally, one of us broke the silence. It was Charlotte. “So. What will you do with the sign if you win? Gloat to Mateo and I?”
Water sucked through my straw as I took a sip, the cold beverage rolling down my tongue, my throat. I lowered my drink to the table, holding Charlotte’s gaze. I shook my head. “I don’t really want to talk about the competition right now.” I was more interested in just being people right now, not competitors..
Charlotte raised a brow. Then she ducked her head once.
“How are you enjoying the festival?” I asked.
“It’s alright.”
I raised a brow this time. “Just alright?”
“Yeah.” She nodded again, muttering, “I don’t really like being around lots of people.”
And I had to be an asshole and say rude things about that part of her personality in our last argument. “But you come here every year.”
Charlotte shrugged. “I kind of have to.”
Competition. Not talking about the competition right now.
I said, “Is there anything you think you’d like to do here? Even if you don’t like the people?”
“I didn’t say I disliked the people,” she said, tone stern. “I just said I don’t like being around people. There’s a distinct difference.”
A soft chuckle escaped me. “And what’s that Charlotte?”
She tensed at my name on her lips. To be honest, her name convoluting off my tongue sent shivers through my chest.
She said, “The people of this town are nice and I like most of them.” Most. Did that most include me? Or was I one of the ones she didn’t like. Hell, why would she like me? “But I just don’t like such crowded areas. See? A difference.”
“Okay, I see your point.” I grinned. “But there isn’t a certain place you want to go? A certain station or area you want to visit?”
Her lips squished to one side. “I haven’t thought about it.”
I couldn’t believe I was about to ask this. My brain screamed this was a bad idea, but my heart said something different. “Do you, maybe, wanna” I cleared my throat, “hang out with me until the judges arrive?”
I wanted to show her how much there was to love this festival that only appeared once a year. Also, I wanted to spend a little more time with her.
Charlotte eyebrows shot up. Her eyes widened. “Are you,” she started, “for real?”
“Yes?”
“Why?” she asked. Her arms remained crossed, her fingernails biting into the opposite arms’ skin.
I knew this wasn’t a good idea. Crimson heated my cheeks. “Because I…like talking to you.”
My heart was pounding so fast. Could she hear it? Hopefully the sound of the town’s people drowned it out.
Couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but talking with her, even if this was brief, was nice. Charlotte had a calming aura to her. Her eyes drew me in. I wanted more. Even moreso, I wanted to learn more about her. Of all the time I’d known her, I was aware she didn’t like lots of people, but I didn’t know the difference between her not liking people or crowds. What more was there to learn about her?
Would Charlotte be creeped out though? That all of a sudden, her competitor, rival baker wanted to hang out with her? I sounded like an idiot.
Her bottom lip drew between her teeth. She was quiet for a few more seconds. My heart was wrenched, regretting my question, but then Charlotte said, “Sure.” Her lips turned up in a small smile.
“Wait, you’re serious?”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, look, you asked me. Are we going around the festival or are we not Zach?”
No one has ever called me Zach before. For some reason, it sounded perfect coming from her.
I nodded quickly, my smile beaming. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Charlotte and I left the table, leaving some cash behind, and strolled to some areas of the festival. Pumpkins picking was to our left, pie eating competition to our right. In another area, we arrived at the art station my sister and I visited. Across, there was a parade that started a few minutes ago. People on floats threw tiny turkey plushies to the audience. Giant inflatables of turkeys and chickens were above.
As Charlotte watched the floats go by, I snuck a peek at her. Her mouth was mostly in a line, but the ends lifted. Looking back up, I said, “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
She shook. It was almost like my voice reminded her I was here. “Yeah. They’re pretty.” Looking over her shoulder, she asked, “Can we try pottery?”
I swiveled my head to where she was looking, eyes landed on the spot. Happy children made pottery with their parents, and the parents smiled in return. My heart warmed. When I was little, my parents and I did the same.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
Without thinking about it, I placed my hand on the small of her back. She looked behind at my hand then up to my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” My cheeks flushed. “Just guiding you.”
Lips pursed, her eyes squinted. “Okay.”
Phew. I didn’t know why I put my hand there either, but I swore Charlotte was going to gut me.
I led her over and we got seated at two wheels. A person brought us bowls of clay and water. “Enjoy,” they said. We thanked them, putting on our aprons.
“Ready to get schooled?” Charlotte asked, her lips in a smirk.
I tied the apron’s strings behind me. “What? You’ve done pottery before?”
“Oh Zach,” she giggled, “I’m what’s known as a master.”
I made a little hmm sound. “Yeah, yeah, talk your shit. I bet I can make something better.”
“Have you ever done pottery?” She raised a brow.
“Actually yes.” The memory of my parents returned. “I visited this station with my parents a lot when I was younger. Even now, some years I come here”
Both brows raised, her eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t know that. Seems like maybe I will have some competition.”
A grin split our faces. I said, “You’re on Charlotte.”
We got to making our pieces.
I crafted a bowl with a few squiggly lines. In one corner, my finger marked a lucky four leaf clover, something my parents taught me to always believe in. I continued perfecting the bowl’s structure. My foot left the wheel’s pedal once I was finished.
I turned to Charlotte. She was still making what looked like a mug. I asked, “So? What got you into pottery?”
She glanced at me then back to her mug. “I used to love it back in high school.”
Not sure that answered my question, but it was an interesting tidbit. “Why did you start? What got you into it?”
She paused. Likely, she was deciding whether or not to even tell me. I understood if she didn’t want to. We weren’t meant to like each other anyway.
Surprising me, Charlotte replied. “When I was a kid, I always had an interest in making my own mugs or bowls. I can’t really recall why, but I just did.” She took her foot off the pedal. Her hands carved more shapes into her creation as she spoke. “In high school, I joined the school’s pottery club and then did pottery for four years.”
I looked to my bowl then back at her mug. The details were more precise, everything made to perfection. Were her baked goods the same way?
I asked, “Did you do anything else in high school?”
“Baked,” she chuckled.
A chuckle left me too. She’d been baking almost as long as I have. No wonder we both won all the time or took each other’s customers. We both had time to perfect our own recipes.
“What did you do in high school?” Charlotte asked.
She was interested in some of my past too? Maybe she only asked to make conversation, but it was nice to think she actually was curious.
Charlotte added more wavy lines to her mug, all parallel to the previous ones. She added dots to each top of the wave. Was there a significance to this pattern? Was it only decoration? I wanted to ask.
Instead, I answered, “Baked,” with another chuckle. Charlotte’s cute giggle fluttered through me. So cute.
After finishing her decorations, she turned to fully face me. I did the same. I wanted to know more about her. My heart raced when Charlotte said, “I kind of figured.”
We chuckled again. I didn’t know it would be this easy to speak to her. Speak with her. Every time we’ve talked, there was always an argument over who was better. But this was nice, simple. Neither of us worried about the competition right now, nor our bakeries. We were only people. I liked it a little too much.
I asked, “Why did you make a mug?” eyeing her pottery.
She raised a brow, a smirk formed. “What? Am I not allowed to?”
“Just curious,” I chuckled, shrugging. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Her head nodded slowly. “I will.” We held a stare for a few seconds. Those seconds shouldn’t have felt like ten minutes. Her eyes were glistening, perfect. Then she spoke again. “This is an exact replica of another mug I made.”
“Really? Why’d you make another?”
She looked at the mug. The ghost of a smile hid behind her mouth. “My parents own the other, so I thought I’d make myself one.” Her eyes came back to mine.
“That’s really neat.” Who said neat anymore? My idiot self. “It’s a beautiful mug by the way. I like the designs.”
Her cheeks reddened. Her eyes and smile grew soft. “Thanks.” I nodded. Charlotte tossed my question back. “Why’d you make a bowl?”
I glanced at my creation then back at her. “No real reason to be honest. Just thought about a bowl, so I made one.”
“I see,” she said. “I like it.”
“Thanks.”
Together, we paused. Staring into each other’s eyes so much, I thought I could get lost in her breathtaking ones.
“I can take these from you both.” The person who gave us the clay earlier returned. Charlotte and I snapped out of our staring contest. We looked to the person and handed them our creations. They said, “These artifacts will be available to pick up in our store in a few days time.”
“Thank you,” I said, standing from my seat. Charlotte stood as well. We removed our aprons and the person took them away along with our mug and bowl. I turned to Charlotte. “Ready?”
“Where are we going now?” Her head swiveled as she looked around the festival.
“We can just walk around then decide on something.”
Her eyes held mine for a moment. “Okay.”
That was what we did. Charlotte and I walked around, spotting different stations to try but ended up not choosing to visit.
“Is this your favourite time of year?” I asked, easing away from the silence.
She looked up to me. “I enjoy Thanksgiving, and I love this festival.”
“But?”
Charlotte blushed. “But I love New Years more.”
“Interesting,” I said, tilting my head. “Why New Years? I’ve never heard anyone say that.”
“It’s cathartic,” she said, looking up at the sky, “but something about throwing a year behind, especially a bad year behind, feels astounding to me. It’s a fresh start.”
I nodded. Very interesting, this woman. Her answer made me want to ask another question, but before I got the chance, she asked one.
“Is this your favourite time of year?”
“Yeah. I love Thanksgiving.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. Charlotte crossed her arms, likely for the same reason- the wind was picking up speed.
She smiled. “What about it do you love?”
“This festival, spending time with those I love,” I leaned in to say, “baking pumpkin pie.”
We laughed together. Our sound attracted the attention of a few townspeople, and they stared for long seconds. Was it strange to see two rivals enjoying each other’s company? I thought not.
Charlotte asked, “This may be a strange question.”
“Hit me with it.”
“When you’re not baking, what other foods do you like to make?”
I paused. Most of my favourite foods were baked goods as they've been my life since I was young. Normal food was great, but sweets? Come on. “Not sure if I have one. Maybe ramen.” I enjoyed eating Japanese food. A good ramen every once in a while was great.
“Really?” she asked, face beaming. “That’s my favourite food.”
My turn to beam. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Guess that’s another thing we have in common.”
I wondered what else we had in common. “See, now I’m curious. Favourite colour?”
Charlotte said, “Grey.”
Damn it. Not the same. “Sadly, mine’s green.”
“Why green?” she asked.
Why was my first thought because your eyes are green? That would be stupid to say. That shouldn’t be the reason. Before I met Charlotte years ago, green was my colour of choice. Although, I liked looking deep into her eyes. Seeing her emotions flash through them.
I replied, “No reason really. I just like the colour. What about you? Why do you like grey?”
She didn’t answer, only stared into my eyes. Then realization struck through me. My eyes were grey.
That wasn’t the reason she liked the colour, likely another reason. It couldn’t be because of me. That’d be strange. We didn’t like each other, let alone like a colour because of the other’s eyes.
But why did my heart want her to like the colour grey because of my eyes?
She finally said, “It’s pretty to me.”
Slow, I nodded. We continued to walk and ask questions, finding out what more we had in common. Throughout our talking, our laughing, I learned that we both liked watching trashy-reality TV, disliked anything horror related, had simple upbringings, were the eldest, had annoying but funny younger siblings, and more.
Besides our favourite colours, we were pretty much the same person.
I didn’t know why I liked that so much, why my heart skipped a beat whenever we learned something from the other person.
Despite our strange rivalry, spending this time with Charlotte was nice. Time flew, and I didn’t realize it ‘til an hour passed. We still had half-an-hour left. I enjoyed this time with her. I laughed more with her than I have in a while. Charlotte wasn’t only the business owner I feuded with. She was really interesting. I found myself wanting to learn every single detail about her that I could.
After laughing at a joke I made, Charlotte said, “You know? I never knew you were this nice.”
My heart grew. I stopped walking and faced her, she mimicked me. In a shy voice, I said, “I didn’t know you were this sweet.”
Charlotte’s bottom lip drew between her teeth. For a moment, there was nothing but her in my vision. Everyone, everything faded. All I could see was her beauty, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see anything else. This view was perfect.
“Slow dance time!” A loud voice blared from across the street. The world returned, unfortunately. Charlotte and I turned in the direction of a black man with a microphone in hand and an acoustic guitar strapped to his body. “For all those who wanna dance with someone special, now’s your chance, baby!”
He and his band mates began to play a song that was smooth, sensual, and slow. Couples started to pair off and dance with each other. Charlotte looked back up at me the same time I looked down at her. A smirk grew on her mouth. “Wanna dance, Zach?”
My eyes darted to the crowd then back to her. “I don’t know.” I scratched the back of my neck. “I’ve never slow danced before.”
One of her brows raised. “What? You too chicken to try?”
My mouth fell into a gape, the ends stayed lifted. I guffawed. “Of course not.”
“Then come on!” Charlotte grabbed my hand and pulled me with her. We stopped towards the middle of the crowd. She said, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”
“You say that after you bring me to the center?” I laughed.
Her hands ran up my chest, fingers locked on my neck. The skin prickled. “Well of course. It was a trap.”
She giggled, and I couldn’t help one either. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. So close, our chest flushed together. My mouth was by her temple. Her eyes were right above my neck. We swayed to the beat of the music. Even though I’ve never done this, with Charlotte it felt like I did this multiple times. She guided me perfectly. I never stepped on her foot, nor did she step on mine.
“Thank you for dancing with me,” she said, voice low enough that only I heard her. She lifted her head to meet my eyes. “I really wanted to do this.”
“It’s no problem. Thanks for taking a chance on me.”
We laughed.
We then stared into each other's eyes. Neither of us dared to look away. Her mouth stayed in a smile. Mine did too. Her eyes sparkled like I was the best thing she ever saw. I bet mine were the same.
What was this feeling for her? Or should I say feelings? My heart always quickened around her, my mind scattered. My hands ached to touch her. I had her in my arms now, but it didn’t feel like enough. Everywhere was what I wanted. Throughout this time, I’ve wanted to get to know her deeper.
This wasn’t what rivals were like. This couldn’t have been dislike. Right? Was this dislike or was this what happened when you…liked someone? I didn’t know. Did I like Charlotte? My rival?
I did. I liked Charlotte a little too much.
We danced together through the myriad of slow songs, not sure how many played. Not that I fucking cared honestly. I cared a lot more about dancing with Charlotte, more about her arms around me. Her fingers tangled with my hair. Her eyes glistened in the setting sun. I smoothed a hand up and down her back. My mind screamed to push her closer, but we were already tightly knit. Too close, and I’d be squeezing her. Hurting her was something I no longer wanted.
Charlotte breathed in deep. Her chest rose at the same time mine did, and they brushed against each other, a spark of electricity trickled across my skin. God, I wanted more of her.
Our faces were inches closer to one another's. My gaze darted below to Charlotte’s mouth. Her lips opened, falling into a gape, and I swore my pants got tighter. My eyes pulled back up to hers. I inched closer, wondering What if I kissed her right now?
I didn’t get the chance to because the music stopped. Reality returned as much as I didn’t want it to. The black front man yelled, “Okay folks. Slow time’s over. It’s time for funk!”
Charlotte and I jolted at the new, blaring funky music. We looked over to the guy then back at each other. “I guess it’s over,” I said, voice low. I couldn’t help the disappointment I felt. This moment would have lasted forever, and it would’ve been alright with me. Better than alright in all honesty.
“Guess so,” Charlotte said. Her voice was almost as small as mine.
Neither of us let go for a few seconds. Reluctantly, I tore my hands away. At my sides, my hands clenched, wanting her body in them again. In more ways than one. Charlotte then removed her hands, folding her fingers together.
“That was fun,” she said. A small smile graced her beautiful face.
I smiled back. “Yeah. I-I agree.” I asked, “Should we head back to our stands?” I checked my wrist watch. “We have fifteen minutes.”
Charlotte nodded fast. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We should.”
“Alright.” I jerked my head in that direction. “Let’s go.”
We walked side by side. I fought the urge to reach out and hold her hand. Escorting ourselves back to the competition, neither of us said more than a few words to the other person. I thought of conversation starters, then thought of how the conversation may play out. But nothing was right.
Charlotte and I stopped at her table. Even though multiple judges came by and tried different amounts, her sweets still looked delectable. The decorations on the cake remained. The dabs of cinnamon sugar gracing one of her pies made it more beautiful than if it was by itself.
That’s something I noticed more about Charlotte the more I spent time with her. Everything had specific attention-to-detail. Pieces of seasoning, fondant, piped frosting, sprinkles had precise placement.
Couldn’t help but like that about her.
On a whim, I asked, “Can I try a piece of your cherry pie?”
Might have imagined it, but a sparkle of something flashed across her eyes. She answered, “Sure.” The ends of her lips tugged upward. “If only I get to try something of yours.”
My heart pounded. “Yeah. I’d love for you to.”
Charlotte cut a piece, laying it on a napkin, and handed the dessert to me. I reached out to grab it. The tips of my fingers brushed against her hand. An electrical spark shocked through my hand all the way up my arm. My breath shook, Charlotte’s did the same. God. She was too beautiful. This desire running through me needed to quit.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
A slight nod to her head was her reply.
I pushed the end of her cherry pie into my mouth. I chomped down on it and chewed for a few seconds. The flaky crust she used mixed with the tartness of the cherries was so perfect, I audibly moaned. “This is so good,” I said, covering my full mouth with the back of my hand. “Oh my God.”
Charlotte’s cheeks flushed red. “T-thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that. Coming from my competition, I thought you’d spit it out and tell me it’s ass.”
I took another bite and shook my head. “Definitely not. I’d be lying if I said I hated this. This is fucking incredible.”
Her eyes sparkled again, her bottom lip drawing between her teeth. I wanted to swipe my thumb against it, feel the skin of her mouth. Fuck, stop it brain.
I finished the piece and asked for another. With a laugh, she gave me slice number two. After I finished, she said, “You have crumbs on your face.” She pointed to the right side of her face.
“Oh,” I mouthed, swiping at my face. “Did I get it?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Got it?” I asked after attempting a second swipe.
She only shook her head again, her smile stretching into a grin.
I tried once more. “This time?” I said, annoyed.
Charlotte’s brow raised. “You’re really not good at this.”
“Well you try getting crumbs you can’t see!” I scoffed.
She guffawed, a throaty sound, right from the chest. It made my heart feel like it was floating above the heavens. She said, “Here, let me help you.”
Stepping closer, she stood a few centimeters away. Her hand swiped the crumbs right by my mouth, and when she dabbed again, her eyes pulled up to mine. Our mouths fell open at the same time. My pulse thudded in my ear. Her chest brushed mine when she breathed. The tips of her fingers grazed my skin while she removed whatever crumbs were left. Goosebumps were left behind.
I needed more of her touch.
Unfortunately, she pulled her hand away, muttering, “I’m sorry.”
I was crushed. My heart sank, lips faltered into a frown. “Don’t be. It’s alright.” I love it when you touch me, Charlotte, I wanted to tell her. But I didn’t want to scare her away. This was the first time either of us got along. I couldn’t ruin it with feelings I didn’t understand. Ones of yearning for her. Instead, I asked, “So, what do you wanna try at my booth?” signaling to my treats via a head tilt.
We walked over to my table. She eyed each dessert before answering. “I wanna try your chocolate cake. That’s my favourite.”
“Really?” I asked as I cut her a piece. “It’s mine too.”
Her brows raised, a smile came into view. “Another thing in common.”
“I’m curious what else.” My tone may have made the statement come off as a joke, but I was being serious.
Cutting a slice and handing her the plate, I said, “Here’s a piece. Hope you like it.”
“Thanks,” she said, and she took a bite. As quick as my reaction, she had the same reaction I did to her pie. Small moans, eye rolling, couldn’t stop eating it. “Oh my gosh. I can see why our customers love you. If you bake like this for cakes, I bet you put your foot in those other pastries. Jeez, this is so good!”
Red-hot crimson crept up my neck. “Thank you, Charlotte. Not to mimic you, but coming from my rival, that means a lot.”
She nodded, cheeks full. She spoke with her hand in front of her mouth. “You can thank me by giving me another slice and giving me one for Mateo.”
I chuckled. I cut up two more pieces and put some clear wrap over both cakes on their plates. She took them and set them down on her chair at her booth, then walked back over. “That seriously was really good.”
“I appreciate it. At least now we know why we have so much competition. We both have great treats.”
“I wouldn’t call mine great,” she retorted, a smirk forming. “I’d say mine are perfect and yours are great.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” I laughed a bit. She cracked up with me.
When our laughter died, I spotted a piece of dark brown on the side of her mouth. “You have a crumb right here.”
Her eyes looked down, I guessed trying to see the crumb. “Well, I’m not going to try and fail just like you did.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Can you get it for me?” she asked.
I nodded, reaching my hand out and swiping the crumb off with my thumb. Heat filtered from her skin through my finger. It shook me like the other moments we’ve touched. I pulled my hand back. “There you go,” I whispered.
She said, “Thanks.”
I nodded again, then flicked the crumb to a nearby trash can.
Charlotte and I stared into each other’s eyes more. I wasn’t entirely sure why we always had these random, silent moments between us, but I was starting to enjoy them. Just gazing into her eyes was like gazing into her soul. The beautiful soul that I spent time with at this festival. The one I ached to learn more about.
The beautiful soul I was falling for.
“Charlotte,” I whispered the same time she whispered, “Zachary.” It made us laugh together, blushes were on our cheeks. Charlotte pointed at me. “You first.”
I said, “Okay. Charlotte…” I inhaled a huge breath, but it came back out shaky. I could do it. I could tell her what I was feeling deep inside. I wanted to tell her while we were dancing. Now’s the time. Don’t back out Zach. “I-”
Cow bells rang. Damn it, the cow bells rang.
“Everyone return to their stations!” the mayor yelled through a megaphone, “The judges have made their decision! Everyone return now!” Individuals around us scattered. Mateo, Ida returned with their partners.
My heart plummeted. This was over. Charlotte and I were done hanging out. I didn’t even get to tell her.
Charlotte’s eyes grew sad. Was she as upset as I was?
Before she got a chance to turn and walk away, I grasped her hand. The contact with her skin shot an arrow in my chest. “Can we talk afterwards?” I needed to get this feeling out of me, put the ball in her court. I wanted to ask if there was a chance for us.
Her eyes twinkled again, smile returned. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
I nodded. My cheeks pinkened. “Perfect. I’ll see you after.”
“Okay.”
Hesitantly, I released her hand.
The judges strolled down the street. Two of them held up the infamous sign that the winners got to place wherever they wanted. The reddish-orange background had the word Winner in bright yellow.
I eyed Charlotte. She met my gaze across the road. Not so long ago, earlier in fact, we battled with words, said things we shouldn’t’ve. We scoffed at each other, rolled our eyes. We hated each other every year because of business and a prize I wasn’t sure was worth it.
If Charlotte won again this year, I wouldn’t care. Doing fun activities with her, getting to know her, having her open up to me about whatever was a lot more important than bragging rights about whose bakery was better.
The mayor spoke again, and all eyes directed to her. “After tiring ourselves out, and trying to pick an overall winner, we collectively agreed that there is more than one winner this year.”
More than one winner? That has never, ever happened before.
What if I was one of the winners? Pulse thundering, I thought, Old habits die hard. Even though I’d be happy with Charlotte taking the prize, winning still felt good.
I glanced over to Charlotte. She must’ve sensed it because looked back. Against my brain, I winked at her, and she blushed. Her eyes darted away, but the small smirk on her mouth caught my eye.
“We’ve chosen,” the mayor started. She took a breath then announced, “Zachary Miller and Charlotte Jenkins. Congratulations on the two of you being this year’s winners of the Thanksgiving Baked Goods Competition.”
My mouth gaped, eyes widened. Turning to her, I watched Charlotte’s facial expression change too. I bet we were thinking the same thing: We both won? How? This was something I wouldn’t have expected. Okay, maybe I was an idiot because we were both expert bakers, so why wouldn’t it be us?
Bystanders watching the competition clapped, other competitors did too. The mayor and the other judges put their hands together.
I heard it all, but those people weren’t my primary focus. Charlotte was. I couldn’t believe she and I won. Previously, it’d been her. Then before her, it was me. Then each year would go back and forth. This time, the judges couldn’t even decide on a winner. Now having tried something from her, I could see why.
A smile split my face. Charlotte’s eyes beamed; she smiled brighter, displaying teeth. Her cheeks were still flushed.
I raised my hands and clapped for her. Congratulations, I mouthed.
Thank you, she mouthed a return, clapping now. You too.
After a few more claps, we walked around our booths and headed to the judges. The two holding the sign handed each leg to Charlotte and I. We turned around and faced the other competitors, showing off our victory.
Everyone continued to be supportive. I looked across the sign at Charlotte and gave her another wink. She returned it. The only question now was: who’s bakery was taking this sign?
~
Shortly after the competition concluded, the civilians of town started filing out of the festival. People returned home, packed up their booths, grabbed their kids' hands to take them back to their cars.
Charlotte and I didn’t get much of a chance to speak after earning the award. People caught us at different times, asking me how it felt to have won again and to share than win with my baking rival.
I answered as honestly as I could: “To share the win with Charlotte was an honor. She is an excellent baker, and I’m happy to be on her level of mastery.”
“I’m gonna head to the car with Anh,” Ida said, holding a large cake stand while Anh held a few empty pie tins. “Meet you there?”
I said, “Yeah, I’ll finish gathering up the stuff here.”
She nodded then walked away with her partner. No doubt, they’d make out in or against the car while waiting for me. Didn’t need to see that when I arrived, so I was thankful that Charlotte and I planned to talk once this was over.
I stole a glance at her. She was folding up the table cloth then stuffing it into her bag. Mateo put the leftover pieces of their different kinds of pie and cake into one tin. Bold choice.
I wrapped up cleaning and packing everything on my end. Charlotte looked up once she was finished too, and she caught sight of me. She smiled and waved. I waved back, a smile forming on my own mouth.
I darted my gaze between a nearby building then back to her. Tilting my head, I mouthed, Can we talk there?
She bobbed her head quickly.
Mateo grabbed everything he could, including the sign. Charlotte said something to him before he left. Charlotte grabbed the rest of her things and walked over to me. “Hi.”
“Hey,” I said. “Congratulations.”
She pushed at her faux locs dramatically and said, “Oh. Why thank you. I guess congrats too.”
“You guess?” I laughed. “I’d expect a bit more enthusiasm there, Charlotte.”
She giggled. “Maybe I’m a little annoyed we both won.”
“Are you?” I was serious, but a giggle hid it.
“Of course not.” She shook her head, her smile never leaving. “Seriously, congrats Zach.”
“Thank you.” As we walked over to the building, I asked, “So. Who’s taking the sign? I think I should.”
She scoffed. “Of course you do.”
“You had it last year.”
“And? That only proves the sign looks better in front of my bakery.”
Now I scoffed. “Oh yeah, right. Two years ago, it looked soooo good in front of my bakery. It’s coming with me this year.”
“Keep telling yourself that, and you’ll be crying when I keep it.”
We laughed. I much preferred and loved this version of banter.
Leaning against the side of the building, I dropped what was in my hands. Charlotte dropped her things too, leaned against the bricks too. I said, “I really can’t believe we both won.”
“I can. I figured I was going to win, but when they said they picked two people, I immediately knew it was the both of us.”
“You were that confident, huh?” I chuckled.
“You tried my pie,” she said, a smirk on her face, a shrug to her shoulders. “You know why I won.”
Shaking my head, I chuckled again. Charlotte laughed a little.
I whispered, “You’re really awesome, you know that?”
She didn’t joke this time. A blush rose to her cheeks as she said, “You are too.”
We continued to smile at each other. Neither of us said anything for a few beats.
She was so beautiful in the setting sun. Her voice was music to me. Her eyes pierced my soul, in the best way. Charlotte took my heart and never returned it.
And I wanted her to know it.
“What were you going to tell me earlier?” she asked, voice just above a whisper.
“That I like you.”
When she didn’t respond right away, I gulped. Her mouth fell into a gape, her breath turning into smoke in the decreasing temperature.
“Spending time with you today has given me new found feelings,” I admitted, “I want to learn more about you. I want to explore these feelings I carry for you.” I leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I want to touch you.”
Charlotte shuddered. Her breathing shook.
I stood straight but took a step closer. “I know we’ve been at odds for years. But I want that to stop. Hell, it already stopped but I never want to go back to that. I only want to move forward and be friends with you. Possibly more, if you’d like that.”
The ends of her mouth lifted. “I like you too, Zach.”
“Really?” Be still my heart.
“I want the same,” she said, nodding. “I want to learn more about you too. I like you a lot and hope something happens.”
Before I gave it another thought, I wrapped her in my arms, burying my face in her neck. Her body was warm, soft, and she smelled like berries. Charlotte’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer. I removed my head from her neck and sat my chin on her head.
This was a feeling I never wanted to end.
Charlotte pulled her head from my neck and looked up into my eyes with a grin. “There’s definitely one thing for certain I want to learn about from you?”
“And what’s that?” I caressed her cheek.
“This.” She raised onto her tiptoes. Her lips pressed against mine in a soft kiss. Scratch what I’d said before. This was a feeling I never wanted to end.
My mouth opened, and she followed my movements, deepening our kiss. My hands slid down her back then up again to hold her neck. Her hands swept up my back to my hair. Goosebumps rose on my scalp. She tasted of chocolate. She smelled delicious.
When I pulled away, my heart was pounding so hard, I thought I might die from a heart attack. Still, I asked, “Will you go on a date with me, Charlotte?”
Her smile widened. “Of course. Of course I will.”
Our eyes searched each other’s again before I planted my lips back on hers.
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