Pawn (Louis Tomlinson AU)

Chapter 1

"Beatrice, stop shoving your face in the cupcakes and actually work for once!"

My head snapped up in surprise, yet I wasn't too surprised of the words that came from Ed's mouth. It was typical, I occasionally sneak a cupcake every.. hour. So what? No big deal, we make like, a dozen batches each quarter of the day.

"Sorry!" I yelled back, not actually sorry. While holding the cupcake's tinfoil covering in my hands, I admired in delight at how the cream-cheese frosting was a perfect eggshell white color, and the way the red sprinkles were so evenly scattered along the brim. Looking left and then right, I slowly lowered my head to take another bite when..

"What did I say?!" Ed's voice boomed before his hand went to smacking me on the head roughly, causing the glorious red velvet cupcake to go splat! on the ground.

"Ow!" I yelped, feeling both betrayed and astonished as I rubbed my scalp gently and eyed the poor, now demented cupcake that laid smashed on the floor. Spinning around, I came face-to-face with Edward, my boss, and apologized immediately, even though my head was still pounding.

"They're just so good," I whined. "You're a master at baking, Boss."

"I know," Ed smiled cheekily, bowing slightly in honor. "I'm the master."

I nodded in agreement, mimicking such smile. Ed may not be the best boss there is out there, but he's definitely one of the finest bakers around town, and that's a fact.

How I even got a part-time job is a wonder. I mess up more times than a kid does during math class when they play those all around the world flashcard games, and Ed's experienced every last one of them up to now.

"So can I have another?" My mouth rushed out, blurting the words before I could even process. Slapping a crumby hand over my mouth, my eyes widened as well as Ed's.

Ed's smile faded, "No, you idiot! Now hurry and clean the damn tables, would ya?"

I huffed, tucking a loose hair behind my ear. I muttered a "Yes, sir," and snatched a clean, damp rag from the counter. I swiped the rag over the light blue tabletops and then the padded seats, ridding them from crumbs the previous users left and I did that for the next twenty minutes.

My wrists ached. My body ached. I just wasn't in the greatest shape to be working for half the day, especially when I hadn't showered earlier. I touched my hair gingerly, feeling the oil dab my fingers. I scowled.

I sat in the small break room, sipping nonchalantly on a paper cup filled with coffee, my phone in the other hand. My knees bounced as I scrolled through my Twitter feed, reading the clever, witty tweets that popped up every time I refreshed.

I laughed at possibly every one. I mean, I'm not a hard person to make giggle or chuckle. It's pretty easy. Actually, it's pretty natural. If a person I like says or does something completely stupid and/or idiotic, I'll laugh until daylight comes.

And if I'm in pain.

Once, I got my finger jammed into a desk drawer when my friend said it was rude to snoop. Instead of overreacting, blowing bombs and punching her square in the jaw, I laughed out loud in either pain or actual laughter, I didn't know at the time.

My pointer finger was bleeding, a bright rose red and my skin was hanging off my nail by the edge. My cuticle was definitely never going to be the same, and that's probably what made me cry (along with the actual pain) in the first place.

Probably.

So, I cried.

No, I bawled my eyes out. But I had a smile still on my face that was growing crimson. Call me crazy, but the scary, maniac grin wouldn't seem to leave and replace with an open frown. My sobs came out in bunches, and then came my chunks of laughter in-between. My friend's mum thought I had lost it when she came up to see the matter, and ended up seeing me laying on the ground, laughing my arse off, with tears rolling down my cheeks at the same time.