Love and Cupcakes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
A sequel to Anmitsu. On a rainy day, a young couple's conversation runs to sweets - and the sweetest of truths.

Submitted: June 06, 2008

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Submitted: June 06, 2008



“You know, it’s pretty ironic that we’re in the middle of summer – and it’s raining buckets outside.”

I chuckled at that while he set the tray on the table. He settled his gangly length into the armchair across mine and smiled in his usual sleepy-eyed fashion.  Outside, the blazing summer heat had given way to chilly rain; inside, however, we were warm and cozy.

“I don’t understand why you keep insisting that we go out to tea,” he commented as he watched me stir a small packet of sugar and a measure of cream into his cup. “It’s not like we can’t hang out at your house.” He cocked his head to one side. “Your mom and dad like me, after all.”

“Yes, because they miss having a son around,” I replied as I handed him his tea. “After my brother was ordained, they sort of miss having a young lad around the house.”

It had become a habit for us to meet each other for tea on Friday nights, ever since that Friday afternoon when he asked me out for anmitsu and he called me by name for the very first time. Over the month and a half that passed since then, I felt myself being drawn closer to him. I would wonder if he felt the same way about me. Being the pessimist that I am, however, I pretty much thought that he probably didn’t. Nevertheless, I enjoyed those Friday evenings and his subsequent visits to my house on Saturday afternoons.

He sighed and began picking at a slice of cake with his fork. “You do bake better things than this, Driesl,” he reminded me. “I was sort of craving for those lemon cupcakes of yours.”

Mutely, I rummaged through my bag and gave him a small box of the said cupcakes. He raised an eyebrow at that.

“I knew you’d hint about the cupcakes,” I explained. “So I made them last night.”

“You didn’t!” he exclaimed as he popped the top off the box.  Almost at once, the citrusy fragrance of the cakes filled our space.  Eagerly, he began peeling the paper off one particularly toothsome cake.  He sank his teeth into the treat and sighed almost ecstatically. “You stayed up to make me these!” he exclaimed around a mouthful of cake.

“I didn’t.”


I yawned and blinked sleepily at him. “I couldn’t sleep,” I said. “So, I got out of bed at midnight and baked some cupcakes for you.”

He stared at me, touched and dumbfounded at the same time, his mouth frozen in mid-bite.  He set the cake down, reached across the table, and took my hand.

“Dris,” he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “You aren’t doing this because you’re feeling sorry for me, are you?”

It was my turn to raise eyebrows. “Whatever gave you that idea?” I snapped.

“I mean, everyone knows I’m a geek and I’m more than a little awkward in social situations, and…”

I pressed a finger to his lips to shush him. “Who told you that?” I asked him, my voice every bit as quiet as his. “You’re not geeky and you aren’t awkward either.” I lowered my gaze as I drew away. “I’m the one who should be saying that, Nick. I mean, why would you want to hang out with a fat old maid like me.”

I felt his fingers tilting up my chin, making my eyes meet his. Where I expected derision or pity, there was only tenderness.

“Because I want to,” was all he said and he kissed me soundly, his lips tasting of lemony sunshine and the warmth of summer.

For those of you who want to make the cupcakes, you can find the recipe here\"\".

© Copyright 2018 Marga Manlapig. All rights reserved.

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