Cupcake

“So,” Rhys said, “you want to keep watching North & South?”

I sighed in relief. “Sure—but only if you want to.”

He tilted his head. “Sounds good. Though I’ve got to be honest, I’d rather watch that kids baking thing you were in. Too bad you don’t have that.”

Mom walked into the room at that moment, carrying a glass in her hand, presumably to get water, but she stopped in her tracks at Rhys’s words.

“Oh my,” she said with a wide smile. I knew it could only mean trouble. “Did someone just mention the kids baking challenge?”

I quickly shook my head. “Nope, you must be hearing things, Mom. Old age will do that, you know.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t say that. And I know I heard something.”

Rhys, the traitor, raised his hand. “I was just saying how much I’d love to see it, Ms. Duncan.”

“It was nothing,” I said.

“Nothing?” Mom scoffed. She set down the glass and put her hands on her hips. “Ariel Duncan, I can’t believe you’d say such a thing. You were incredible, and you had so much fun. Don’t you remember?”

What I remembered was that I had been right on the cusp of my awkward stage. I had a gap between my two front teeth because I hadn’t had braces yet for goodness’ sake. Was I cute at nine? Heck yes. But I didn’t exactly want Rhys picturing me like that.

“All right, it’s settled,” Mom said. “Now we have to watch.”

She found the video and had it cued up before I could object.

“Rhys, prepare yourself for all the amazingness that is my daughter.”

“Mom,” I said. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes, it is.” She gave a curt nod then turned to Rhys as the opening credits rolled. “I’m not just saying this because I’m her mom. Ariel was such a little cutie, and so talented, too! Ooh, she could cook up a mean dessert even then.”

Ugh. Lord save me from proud mamas who liked to brag on their kids and share embarrassing videos.

“Can’t wait, Ms. Duncan,” Rhys said, and I could tell he was amused.

Mom sat in the middle of the couch between Rhys and me. And as the three of us watched the thirty-minute-long pilot episode, she kept up a running commentary.

“See?” she said when I first appeared onscreen. “Ariel was one of the youngest bakers there and, in my opinion, the best. It’s no wonder they chose her. And who wouldn’t love that face?”

Rhys’s eyes were smiling. “She was very cute.”

A blush stole up my cheeks.

“I know,” Mom said. “The cupcakes she made are about to wow the judges. Look.”

She was right, of course. I knocked that first challenge out of the park. The cupcakes were baked to perfection, tasted oh-so-yummy, and my decorations were on point. One judge even claimed it was one of the best she’d ever tasted.

“So talented,” Mom said again.

The kitchen timer went off as we were in the middle of the second episode. Rhys looked completely into it, so I got up, removed the cake from the oven and set it on the counter to cool. As I walked back into the living room, I saw nine-year-old me frantically trying to finish her dish. I remembered this part, too. The end result was a gorgeous plate of sugar cookies and me with flour in my hair. The look on my face as I’d gotten eliminated was still as happy-go-lucky as ever—though I’d cried a ton afterward.

Mom shook her head. “Oh honey, you know I still think that little boy Ruben should have gone home. His brownies were undercooked!”

I sighed. “I know, you say that every time.”

“And your dish was gorgeous,” she continued. “You were as amazing then as you are now.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Well Rhys, what did you think?”

My mom and I looked at him, waiting for his answer.

“I agree with you, Ms. D,” he said. “Your daughter is something else.”

Mom patted my thigh and stood. “Yes, she is, Rhys. I’ll leave you two alone now, since my work here is done.”

With that, she went back to her room.

Rhys was looking at me, but it was hard to meet his gaze.

“Why didn’t you want me to see that?” he asked. “You were awesome.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah well, I was also about to hit my awkward stage. This is so embarrassing.”

“How?”

“It’s hard to explain,” I said. “I’m proud of making it onto the show, I am. And Mom’s right; I did love being a part of it. But…having you watch it is like letting you read my diary or something. Totally awkward, not to mention personal. You know?”

When I finally met his eyes, the intense look in them made me pause.

“Wow,” he said. “I feel like I should share something with you now.”

My head was shaking before he even finished. “No, that’s okay, Rhys. You don’t have to.”

“It’s only fair. You shared something personal with me, so I want to do the same.”

After taking a deep breath and releasing it, Rhys nodded as if he’d come to a decision.

“You know the appointments I go to?”

“Rhys, seriously, you don’t—”

“They’re to see my therapist,” he finished. He rubbed a hand across his neck nervously. “No one except for my family even knows that I go to one. But I do.”

I gaped at him. This was his big secret? The talk I’d witnessed between Rhys and his mom about doctors probably should’ve tipped me off, but for some reason, I hadn’t put two and two together. Rhys was so well-adjusted. He played sports, was popular, and got awesome grades. I just…yeah, I hadn’t seen it coming.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked.

I realized then that Rhys was watching me. He had been all along, waiting for my reaction. Trying to lighten the mood, I shrugged.

“A therapist. That’s awesome,” I said. “A lot of people have those.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“No.”

“Don’t you want to know why I see one?”

“Only if you want to tell me,” I said.

Rhys studied my face a moment then shook his head. “I thought you might freak out. Think I was crazy or weak—or both.”

“Why?” I asked. “Seeing a therapist isn’t a bad thing.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the judgmental eyes and ears in our high school,” he said.

Touché.

“I started going to therapy because I was bullied.”

“You were bullied?” I asked.

He nodded. “Every day in middle school. The other guys used to tease me because I was small. They’d push me around, call me names, steal my books. I was a late bloomer, didn’t hit a big growth spurt until I was almost in high school. So yeah, it was rough.”

I wasn’t going to lie; it was hard to picture Rhys as small. He was larger than life now, both on the field and as he sat next to me on the couch.

“The therapy helped,” Rhys said. “And I still go now because in high school there’s all this pressure. Make good grades, be the best at sports, get into a good college, get a scholarship so you can afford college, look like you have everything under control. It can be…a lot.”

“I get that,” I said. “I used to go to therapy, too.”

Rhys’s brows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah. It was for a different reason, body issues mostly, but that’s the thing you’ve got to remember: everyone is struggling. Some people are just better at hiding it.”

A beat of silence passed before he gave me a half smile.

“I’m glad I told you,” Rhys said.

“Me too,” I replied.

“Seriously, it feels like a weight’s been lifted.” His face relaxed, and I could practically see the tension melting off him. “This is amazing. I didn’t realize how much I needed to tell someone until now.”

I sent him a smile. “Glad I could help.”

“You really did, you know,” he said. “Secrets can be heavy.”

Trying to lighten the mood, I shrugged. “I honestly thought you had a secret girlfriend or boyfriend for a while there.”

Rhys blinked. “You thought I had a secret girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend,” I said.

He smiled a real smile as he shook his head.

“Princess, only you would think something like that,” he said.

“Yeah well, I blame it on the movies.”

“I’m glad I got to see you in that baking challenge.”

For some reason, I was, too, but I wasn’t going to admit it.

“Whatever. We so should’ve watched North & South.”

“Okay,” Rhys said. “Let’s do that now. I don’t have anywhere to be—for once.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “It’s your number one, so I’m curious. Who is this Mr. Thornton? Your voice got all mushy when you talked about him. It kind of made me jealous. I have to know more.”

We started from the beginning, and by the time the cake was cooled and frosted, we were through the first two episodes. I cut the cake then had Rhys taste it. His eyes were wide as he swallowed. That was followed by a groan of pleasure.

“I know,” I said.

“Princess, this is delicious,” Rhys said. “My mom’s going to love it—when I bake her the actual birthday cake, of course.”

I blushed. “I hope so.”

“And hey, I’m definitely coming back to watch more North & South,” he said. “I need to see how it ends.”

“The ending’s the best part,” I said.

“I would come tomorrow, but I have a game.”

“I know,” I said. “I was thinking about going.”

“I’d love it if you did.” He gave me a soft smile.

We were silent a beat, then…

“About the whole date thing,” Rhys said, and I held my breath. “There’s no pressure. You get that, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” I said.

“I’m strong, Princess.”

I knew that.

“You don’t have to avoid me,” Rhys said. “If the answer’s no, then—”

“No,” I said, grabbing his hand to stop him. “The answer’s not no. I want to go out with you. It’s just…”

Rhys stared at me while I searched for an answer.

“Just…what?” he said.

“I, well, I have this big competition coming up, and I have to get ready,” I said in a rush.

Rhys looked surprised. “Really? What kind of competition?”

It wasn’t totally a lie, so I decided to just run with it.

“It’s a baking competition for charity.” I lifted a shoulder. “Me and some other bakers will duke it out. We already know the theme, but they give us a time limit. At the end, we’re judged on taste and decorating ability.”

“Wow, that sounds cool,” he said.

“It is. If you win, $1,000 goes to the charity or cause of your choice. I compete for Blue Skies Elementary, the school where my mom teaches.”

“Can people come watch?”

I swallowed. “Yes, there’s an audience. They sell tickets and use some of that money for the prize. It’s televised by one of the local stations. Mom and Toni usually come to cheer me on.”

Rhys gave me that half smile. “Maybe I could come this year.”

“Maybe,” I said, thinking it was unlikely.

The competition was weeks away. Homecoming would be done way before then, and I wasn’t sure if Rhys’s interest in me would last that long. The thought caused an ache somewhere deep in my chest.

“So, you’re not avoiding me?” Rhys asked.

I shook my head.

“And you’re not saying no to the date? You’re just preparing for this competition?”

“Yep,” I said.

What I didn’t say was that I’d prepped for it all summer. I could do the bake-off with one hand tied behind my back; that was how ready I was. But Rhys didn’t need to know that.

“Okay, that’s good,” he replied. “Especially since this was basically a pre-date.”

A surprised laugh escaped. “A what?”

Rhys gave a shrug. “A pre-date. We cooked together, ate food, watched a movie.”

“Mini-series,” I cut in.

“Hm,” he said. “So yeah, like a date without the kissing.”

Without thought, I lifted to my toes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It wasn’t enough though. So when he turned, I brushed my mouth against his for another.

“I think I like pre-dates,” I breathed.

He leaned down and said, “Just wait until the real thing.”

After one last kiss that lingered a bit longer than it probably should’ve, Rhys left, and I couldn’t stop wondering: if this was a pre-date, what would the real thing be like?