Choux Cream Cake

Burn

I arrived at work in the morning, same timing at 9 am. I started the daily housekeeping as usual- only this time, the trash was empty, the floors had already been swept, and the tables had already been wiped.

What?

I couldn't see anyone in the vicinity, I looked around once more- searching for the cleaning ghost apparently haunting my cafe. Then, I heard a whirring come from the kitchen. I pushed open the door to see the baker, dressed in a plain white button down, black slacks, and the green apron, rolling dough. There was an orange glow from the oven, baking...something. He turned around at my sudden entrance, “Aew, N’Perth, good morning,” he gave me a gummy smile, showing off his bunny teeth. Somehow, my morning already felt great.

“Did you… clean the cafe?” I asked, walking in to sit on the table opposite him. I faced the wide expanse of his back and my eyes couldn’t help but wander.

“Ah, yes, I came in early because baking is a long process, so it needs to be prepped beforehand, I thought I might as well help while no one was here yet.”

“Yea, it would have been too much of a miracle for P’Plan to come in anytime before 10 am…,” I stopped, “Wait, how did you even get in- Oh, right, I haven’t installed the lock yet,” I scratched my head in embarrassment. I was getting around to it, I swear. We’ve survived for three months without one, haven’t we?

I caught a glimpse of his hands lifting the clump of dough from underneath, his long fingers digging into it, the tendons of his arm moving under his skin, mesmerising. He dumped the dough into a bowl and wrapped it with cling wrap. “You really should get a lock, soon,” he said as he walked into the fridge and left the bowl inside.

He approached and stood leaning on the edge next to me, he turned to me and asked, folding his arms, “I’ve been curious since yesterday… if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” Of course, I was wondering when he’d ask.

“I’m 25,” I looked at him, “I own the place but my parents paid for it even when I told them I’d take a job to pay for the rent.”

He nodded slowly, “I see… that’s quite impressive.”

I scoffed, “Don’t you think it’s a bit snobbish? I had the place basically handed to me.”

“But you’re running it yourself, right? Your parents don’t handle the cafe for you, they don’t know how to make coffee, they don’t handle the customers, they don’t earn your revenue, do they?”

“Hm, I guess I never looked at it that way before.” I always got shit for being ‘rich’ when the rich ones were my parents, so much that I actually almost hated my status. So when he said that I was taken aback, because people like him were quite rare. I looked at him, his apron was powdered with white along with his hands. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the meaty tendons of his forearms, months of rolling and pressing dough very apparent. Yet, his fingers looked delicate, graceful. He noticed me looking, and rushed to the sink to wash his hands. Cute.

Ding

The oven lights turned off, and he was still running his hands through the water. I got up from the table and walked towards the oven to help him get the tray out. I pulled the oven door down, and reached in, the hot metal stung my fingertips. “Ah!” my hand jolted out of the hot oven, I didn’t wear oven mitts and burned myself- like a real dumbass.

He rushed over and grabbed my hand, “Are you okay? Why did you do that?” He inspected my fingers, and despite the quiet sting I felt from the burn, all I could focus on were his soft hands. “Two of your fingertips are slightly raw… it should be fine but if you’re going to work you’ll need to bandage it,” he looked around, “Where do you keep your first aid kit?”

“Ah it’s outside, under the counter.”

“Okay,” he didn’t let go of my hand as he pulled me through the doors and into the bar outside. He made me stay at the ledge while he scavenged for the first aid kit that was under the bar counter. He took out a small wrap of gauze and medical tape and placed it onto the bar, then he took my hand again and wrapped a thin double layer of gauze on each finger and secured it with tape. It was secure enough to not hurt and thin enough to not be obstructive.

“Thank you,” I was being taken care of in my own cafe, it made me embarrassed. He was still holding onto my hand, the warmth of it and the close contact made my heart beat just a little faster.

He took a second, then, he looked at me, “You know what my mother said?”

“What?” he leaned forward and gently laid his lips on the bandages, making me blush furiously.

“Kisses make the pain go away,” he smiled sweetly- it made my heart go all sorts of soft and jumpy. My cheeks went pink and I turned away, flustered, a smile slowly spreading on my face.

He put my hand down and kept the first aid kit, then, he walked away, “Take care of yourself na, N’Perth, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” He just left me with my heart rate raised like that, the audacity. That was the first time I’d felt so shy in so long, the familiar feeling of dopamine filling my system- it felt refreshing.

10 AM came rolling around and P’Plan arrived, dressed in his brown long-sleeved button down polo and black slacks, pink hair still very vibrant and glaring. He walked towards the bar and leaned over, he stared at me. “Hey,” I looked up, “Why… are you smiling?”

“Was I?” I touched my cheeks, massaging them- I hadn’t noticed.

“Yea, dumbass, you looked so creepy from outside… smiling like some freak staring into space and wiping your counter,” I whipped the towel at his face.

“I can’t be happy sometimes?”

“Khun Perth, khap, I have known you for almost a decade and that smile was the ickiest I’ve ever seen on you,” he shivered, exaggerating his disgust.

“N’Perth? Can you come in to test the pastries?” P’Saint stuck his head out the door. At the mention of eating, I immediately perked up and transferred all focus to him.

“Yea, sure, definitely,” I dumped the cloth onto P’Plan’s face and walked towards the kitchen door. When I walked in, I heard a faint grumbling from outside, something like, “I’m not getting paid enough to be mistreated like this.” Whatever.

I tasted the pastries and I was convinced his hands were magic- they all tasted amazing, I couldn’t get enough of it, it was such a hard decision which to sell. We thought it was best to sell three items to test the crowd- the choux cream puffs, the cheesecake, and the chocolate muffin. I helped him arrange the baked pastries onto the tray, then I clipped on a label for them at the front along with the price, the trays would be placed next to the beverages in the refrigerated casing.

The rest of day went by pretty standard, people noticed the new pastries and ordered them, patrons eating in looked pretty satisfied with the taste. I found myself looking back to the kitchen during my service from time to time without reason. Perhaps, I was just getting accustomed to the new presence, a new person. I hadn’t made any new friends since I’d graduated, so he was my first new friend in a long time, maybe that’s why. Maybe there was some reason I was looking at my bandaged fingers and smiling, but I couldn’t find it.

At closing time, I saw the casing had just one choux cream left. I put it in a to-go box and brought it home. When I bit into it, memories flooded my mind but I felt no pain. Soon, those thoughts were replaced with puffy marshmallow cheeks, slender hands, and a sweet smile.