“I’m not allowing you to go out with that pathetic nightmare.” Four said for the nth time in the past ten minutes. The two friends sat in Bronx’s closet, rummaging through the pile of clothes that they have pulled out of the racks.
“I didn’t have a choice.” Bronx defended herself, frowning at the sunflower dress she has picked up from the mountain of outfits and throwing it to the stack of rejected clothes behind her. “He literally declared he was going to take me out.”
Bronx bit her lip, not used to lying to her best friend. Her cheeks burned as the memory of her conversation with Luke replayed in her head like a song; sure, the boy looked like he was an extra in a late-70’s heavy metal music video, but, she has to admit, he was quite the charmer.
And don’t even get her started on that lip ring.
Four sighed as she grabbed a black dress from the mess of clothes. “Where’s he taking you?”
“He said it was a surprise.” Bronx got the dress with a smile and held it up to her face, covering behind it, in attempt to hide her flushed state from Four. “But he told me to dress casually.”
Four scoffed from the other side of the dress. “That’s casual?”
“I’m going to be photographed the moment I step out of this building; I have to look more than casual.” Bronx quickly stood up from the wooden floor of the closet and started to strip off her clothes. She then proceeded to putting on the rather short, overlay dress, its hemline reaching mid-thigh. She turned around gracefully, her hair swishing, and faced Four with an expectant look. “Well?”
“It’s so short I’m worried you’ll catch an STD if you sit on a chair in McDonald’s.” Four scoffed.
Bronx glared at her best friend but a smile threatened her lips. “Funny.”
“Who, me? I know.”
++
“Nice dress. Very short.” Luke smirked the moment Bronx opened her apartment’s door. He was still in his ridiculously unbearable skinny jeans but he managed to change from his plain white shirt to a black one.
“Nice jeans. Very tight.” Bronx countered sarcastically with an eye roll, but she could feel her stomach fluttering as Luke scanned her with his electric blue eyes, a color similar to hers.
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, honey, being skinny jeans isn’t the only reason why they’re tight.”
Bronx immediately reddened the moment she deciphered Luke’s sentence and nearly choked on her saliva. She instantly racked her brain for a comeback, trying to hide her flustered self.
“You’re getting fat, huh, Luke? I’ve got diet pills, drop by anytime.” She thought it was a good comeback, but her unconfident voice betrayed her.
Luke snickered and, to Bronx’s luck, fortunately shrugged it off and led the two down the hallway, to the golden elevator. He pressed the button. He stood silently, patiently waiting for the elevator doors to open, watching Bronx study his reflection on them.
He pretended he didn’t notice.
The ride down the elevator was silent as well, with Luke rapidly texting on his phone and Bronx fixing her hair with the use of the elevator’s reflective walls. The silence wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t awkward, either. It was just quiet and still, almost deafening, but bearable.
Bronx kept her eyes on her feet as she and Luke went out of the building, countless flashes going off and dozens of voices speaking all at once, shouting questions, asking if they were in any sort of relationship. It was crowded on the sidewalk as photographers pressed on with their questions, rudely yelling at their faces.
Luke was smiling the entire time, but did not address any of the questions, and neither did Bronx. They quickly walked down the road with people chasing after them, and Bronx could feel the air thickening due to the forming crowd.
The camera flashes did not help them at all maneuver through the city; it was eight in the evening and there were already enough dazzling lights from the shops and cars and street signs for Bronx to squint her eyes subtly.
“You alright?” Luke muttered to her but kept his eyes forward.
“Yeah,” she breathed out.
“Almost there.”
“Where are you even taking me?” Bronx chuckled lightly.
Luke glanced at her quickly. “Here,”
He stopped in front of what seemed to be a closed shop a street away from their apartment building. Bronx furrowed her eyebrows, confused why Luke took her to a closed bakery. She was about to question him when he took out a key from his pocket and stuck it in the door’s keyhole. It took a while before he finally opened it, and stepped aside once again for Bronx to enter first.
He shut the door behind him as soon as he came in, shutting out the impolite howls of the paparazzi, and turned on the lights of the store. Bronx squinted for a second before looking around, a smile instantly plastered on her face.
It was a bakery, and nearly everything inside was pink and white. White walls with pink borders, white wooden tables with pink placemats and flowers, white chairs with pink cushions. It was like a life-size Barbie bakery, and Bronx could feel warmth at the pit of her stomach.
“Where are we?” Bronx’s tone was more than amused as she gawked at the kitchen positioned at the very end of the shop; its counter was, of course, white with pink flowers in white pots.
“It’s literally called Barbie’s Bakery.” Luke chuckled as Bronx continued to look around in awe. “But,” the tugged on her hand and brought her to the back of the store, “we’re not here for pastries.”
“What?” Bronx snapped her head to look at him with disappointment.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” He smiled and opened the pink back door of the kitchen.
Cold air met their faces immediately.
The back door led to a garden, a secluded one, behind the bakery. It smelled like newly trimmed grass. Multi-colored flowers bordered the small lawn and a plaid picnic mat with a variety of throw pillows were placed in the middle, right across a projector with the YouTube homepage flashed. Strings of fairy lights that dangled from the roof of the bakery across the lawn to the white picket fence of the garden served as their roof for the evening.
“Didn’t know you were a YouTube fan.” Bronx bit her lip to stop herself from smiling.
Luke shrugged and sat on the picnic mat, putting a yellow throw pillow on his lap. He patted the spot next to him, inviting Bronx to sit. “Didn’t know you were a Barbie Bakery fan.”
Bronx rolled her eyes and sat down, grabbing a larger throw pillow and placing it behind her. She lied down, looking at the fairy lights above. There were hardly any stars out. A familiar picture on the projector caught her eye and she sat up rather abruptly, her head spinning.
“That band is really good.” She pointed at one of the recommended videos eagerly, the video’s thumbnail revealing a candid shot of four boys with instruments. “Look at me now I’m falling.” She hummed softly, faintly swaying, her hair swishing behind her.
Luke didn’t say a word; he kept his eyes on her as she continued to sing, her voice slowly fading, getting softer and softer after each word until the silence crept back, but she remained swaying to the beat of whatever song she sang, eyes closed, completely drowned in the melody playing in her head.
Bronx cleared her throat and looked at the blue-eyed boy expectantly, head tilted. “So, what are we watching?” She was surprised he hasn’t made an obnoxious comment since he picked her up at her apartment, and she could feel herself slowly warming up to him.
“Well,” he ran a hand through his hair and smirked. “Since you haven’t heard of my band, which I still think is a joke, I’m going to make you watch our music videos and show you what real music actually is.”
Spoke too soon.
