Sugar Rush || Completed

{ 16 } snickerdoodles

Despite what you may think, walking a couple of miles home completely covered in smeared cupcake icing isn't that bad. It's kinda nice to walk in the setting sun and have a constant aroma of sugar and vanilla around you. If there are any cupcakes left that weren't smeared on a human body (and luckily for me that was the case), it's great to eat them while walking. Typically, it's nice to walk with a friend either talking obnoxiously loud or just enjoying each other's company while munching on cupcakes. Unluckily for me, I had Luis for company. I wouldn't call Luis a friend exactly and silence that was between us wasn't exactly comfortable.

Instead of eating anything, Luis picks icing off himself, desperately trying to clean himself off. His face is set in a tired scowl. Unlike me who's dragging my wagon behind me, Luis has both hands free, all to just clean off his shirt and face and hair.

"Why are you wasting time trying to clean off the icing? You're gonna get to your bakery soon," I say before taking the last bite of the cupcake I was holding. I didn't plan to take another one because I had already eaten five and even bakers have their sugar limit. I rest my hand gently on my stomach and continued walking. "It'd be easier to clean up at Sugar Rush."

"I'd rather not walk the remaining two miles completely covered in sticky icing."

I raise an eyebrow at him incredulously. "How have you managed to be a baker without getting covered in flour or icing?"

He doesn't bother to look at me. He continues to wipe off icing off his shirt. "I don't know what kind of bakery you run, but at Sugar Rush, we're coordinated enough not to get ingredients everywhere."

"Rude." He smirks. Satisfied enough with his shirt, he puts his hands in his pockets. His forehead has a little crease in it making his whole face frown.

"Whatever, I could care less about your sticky situation." I grin to myself at the lame pun. Luis doesn't have enough decency to appreciate it as he just sighs.

"Did you get my pun? Because sticky-"

"Yes. I got it." Luis snaps back.

I raise my eyebrows in mock hurt. "Wow, I almost wish for the times where you'd say something almost sincere and call me carino." I pause, but not long enough for Luis to notice. Did I really just say that?

"Do you now?" He's walking ahead of me now so I can't see his facial expression. Judging from the surprised tone, I'm guessing he has a smug grin on his face.

"You clearly didn't get my sarcasm just like you didn't get my joke earlier."

Luis turns around to look back to me and I give him an awkward smile. He walks backwards for a bit, examining me, before giving a nonchalant shrug and turning back. "Whatever you say cariña."

My brow furrows. At this point, it's useless to actually be mad at him calling me that. I can compare it to a pesky older brother using a nickname that you hate from your childhood. In that type of situation, you know that the nickname is there to annoy the heck out of you. Not sure why Luis calls me sweetheart in Spanish all the time. I doubt it's because he sees himself as my older brother.

We walk in more silence for a couple more minutes, me regretting why I didn't just leave my wagon at the conference to pick up at another time and Luis walking with a slight sway in his step, before Luis breaks the quiet.

"Just so you know, we do make messes when we bake at Sugar Rush," referencing to what I said earlier, "It's a lot more fun that way."

I cast a sidelong glance at him. He has a small smile on his face, unsheltered and genuine. "When I was a kid, I was always in the kitchen. I always saw food as an art form, flavors on a plate are food's equivalent to colors on a canvas. So that made me that artist kid with sauce stains on the shirt covering his chubby body."

Based on our previous dialogue, I could have responded by calling out his sudden profundity. But I didn't.

"Baking came to me because it was given to me. It was something I received out the intense love someone had for me. It was given to me in the form of a cookie from the neighbors. It was given to me in the form of batter from my grandmère every Monday. It was given to me in the form of an Easy Bake oven for Christmas even though I knew grandmère couldn't afford it that year after being let off. And I treasured it, because I didn't want it taken away from me. But sometimes, that isn't always the case, and you've got to hold strong of what's left and make it grow." I take in a shaky breath. I still missed grandmère so much after her passing. And remembering how much she helped to make my life happy when my parents, her daughter, couldn't, it opened up a whole new wound. "Grandmère would want me to continue making messes in the kitchen." I finish with a breathy laugh.

"I don't doubt it," Luis says, giving me a comforting smile.

Our looks back into the past left us meditative all the way back to our respective bakeries.

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