The following few days pass in a blur.  It’s all the same—Tiny Baker, Tiny Baker, Tom, Tiny Baker.  We spend a lot of time together, but he hasn’t slept over since the night of the Father’s Day Festival.  I’m not sure if it’s a conscious decision on his part, but I try not to read into it.  I’ve been too busy to really dwell on anything.  My life has returned to baking all day, and then falling into an exhausted stupor at the end of the day.  I’ve had two interviews for a new head chef, but neither of them were very promising.  I’m starting to get a little desperate, and I’m beginning to wonder if I should just start planning my retirement in Maryland. 

I have started planning out the rest of the summer, and I’m desperately trying not to panic. Business has tripled since the Festival, and I am struggling to keep up with everything.  I have orders to fill, and I’m planning on how I’m going to get hundreds of desserts ready for the Summer Celebration.  Mandy has offered to help, of course.  My part time pastry chef, Susan, has been lovely enough to offer her services.  She usually keeps a crazy schedule, working at the bakery in the wee hours of the morning.  It works best with her other job.  I’ve only seen her a handful of times the whole summer.  She has already said she will be able to come in more, and help with the Summer Celebration baking.  Even Tom has promised he will help, and I’m taking him up on his offer. 

I’m also working around taking the trip to London with Tom.  It’s only a few weeks away, and I need to make sure I will be able to handle leaving the bakery alone for four days.  Tom had originally pushed for us to stay for a week, but he knew I wouldn’t be able to leave the bakery that long, so we settled on four.  Most of that time will be spent traveling, but it is the best I can do.  I’m pretty excited for it.  Mandy and I are going to go into Baltimore in a few days and go shopping for a dress. I’m ready to splurge, and look absolutely amazing for the charity event.  Which probably means I should stop eating so many croissants.  And sampling the chocolate frosting I made for my German chocolate cake. 

The cake is for dinner tonight.  I know it is one of my uncle’s favorite cakes.  I haven’t seen him, or my cousins Laura and Flip in so long. Since my relationship with my mother has lightened considerably, I’m not completely dreading an evening spent with my family.

“Remember that time at Henry Gray’s house?” Tom asks suddenly, breaking through my thoughts.  “You ate all that chocolate cake and we did shots of 99 Bananas, and then you passed out on one of his lawn chairs.” Tom pipes up from the corner.  He’s desperately been trying to frost some peanut butter and dark chocolate cupcakes, and he’s been making a mess for the past 15 minutes.  He holds one up, looking a bit unsure.  It’s a disaster.  Cupcake frosting can take a bit of artistry, and I’m not sure he’s got it in him.

“Don’t remind me of that night.” I groan, rolling my eyes.  “That’s…lovely, TW.” I nod toward the cupcake.

“Don’t insult my art, Charles.” Tom huffs and puts the lopsided cupcake down on the tray.  It’s not pretty, but it’s hilarious, so I let him keep going.  Maybe I can sell those for half off.  Or just give them away for free to starving children, or stray dogs.

“We were all wasted that night, it wasn’t just me.” I box up the chocolate cake, and put it in a plastic bag to go.  Tom is coming with me to dinner, and it makes me a little nervous.  I’ve been fighting butterflies all day, which has led to me only eating half a bagel early this morning and about two pots of coffee since then.  I’m a little jittery, and I’m not sure it’s a great combination.  I’m like a caffeinated, twitchy robot.

“I went skinny dipping that night. You were already passed out.” Tom laughs under his breath. 

“No, I wasn’t.” I look up at him and give him a wicked grin. His mouth drops open a bit, but then he laughs.

“You minx.” He chuckles.  Henry is a mutual friend of ours in Los Angeles.  It had been Memorial Day weekend a few years ago, and we’d all gone drinking and then back to Henry’s amazing hillside house for a cookout and swimming.  I had ended up mostly passed out on his lawn furniture, while the few remaining friends went swimming at half past two in the morning.

“It was all a blur anyway.  You’ve got a nice ass, though. Perky.” I wink at him, and then start laughing.  Tom’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head, and then he hoots with laughter.  A second later, he shoots off the stool and starts chasing me around the kitchen, his hands covered in chocolate frosting.  I squeak out a high pitched yelp and take off, holding out a spatula in front of me.

“Don’t! Don’t come near me! I’m armed and dangerous!” I laugh, trying to put the table between us.  I wave the spatula like a sword. Tom grins, his hands out in front of him like some sort of chocolate covered zombie.

“Come here.” He demands.  I shake my head, and then try to run around the table. He’s too fast for me, and I slide a bit on the smooth kitchen floor.  He seems to hit the same slippery spot right after me, and he comes toppling toward me, both of us yelling.  We crash into each other and Tom grabs onto me with both hands at my waist.  We knock heads, and I smack him inadvertently in the chest with the raspberry cream covered spatula. 

We stand still for a minute, both our heads stinging from our foreheads knocking.  He reaches up and rubs above his eyebrow, leaving a smudge of frosting.

“Ow. Your head is really hard.” Tom groans, and I giggle.  I take a half step away, and see that his front of now covered in bright red icing.  My sides are smeared with chocolate frosting and we both look at each other apologetically.

“No running in the kitchen.” I say softly. 

“Oh…I do what I want.” He says breathlessly, his voice low.  I laugh and reach forward, gently wiping the frosting off his forehead. 

“We’re a mess.” I hold my hands out in front of me.  Tom grins and reaches down, taking my hand in his.  He’s still covered in icing, and his fingers leave chocolate marks on my hands.  He lifts my hand to his mouth and then slowly puts the tip of my ring finger in his mouth.  I bite my lip, my eyes glued to him. He is watching me, like he always is, and I can barely hold his eyes. Oh, pastry puffs.  Puff pastries. Something, something… my mind goes blank. 

He nibbles on the tip of my finger and then takes it in his mouth, licking the frosting off of it.  I swallow hard and step closer.  Tom leans down and kisses me.  It’s a delicious, hungry kiss.  Our mouths open, and I feel his tongue slide against mine. Oh god, he’s going to kill me.  He tastes like chocolate and peanut butter and reasons why good girls don’t go to heaven.  I press against him, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

May the sugar gods strike me dead, I don’t care if we’re both covered in confection.  Tom slides his hands around my middle and then lifts me up in one easy movement.  He sets me down on the table behind us and I open my legs and pull him against me.  Tom shifts against me, pushing into me and the table and the table shifts backwards with a loud screech.  We laugh against each other, but only for a split second before we are kissing again.

“You taste like chocolate.” He whispers against my mouth.  I smile.

“I think that’s you, actually.” I kiss the corners of his mouth, slowly, carefully.  Tom holds still, letting me kiss him.  I make my way from his lips, to his cheek and then against his jaw.

 “You drive me crazy.” His voice is so low, it is more like a vibration against my skin than an actual noise.  I tense against him, feeling every nerve in my body stand on alert.  I hesitate as I kiss his neck.  My stomach flips and the air in the room sort of crackles around us.  We have kissed many times now.  I have felt his desire for me.  But he’s yet to say anything like that.  It is a bold, naked statement.

We are still straddling this odd, wordless territory of no man’s land.  It as if we are still just best friends and nothing has changed except we occasionally make out.  It’s not a bad thing, but we don’t talk about it.  Unlike everything else in our friendship, we don’t talk about this recent development.  I want to talk about it, but I’ve been scared to.  Afraid of the outcome.  Kissing him is easier. Much easier.

I kiss his neck and Tom groans, tilting his head back and to the side slightly.  His skin is smooth and soft.  I can feel the muscle and sinew just under his skin, and the way he tenses as I touch him. He braces himself on the edges of the table, his arms locked by my thighs.  I run my hands over his shoulders, and the muscles in his arms. 

“Stay with me tonight?” I ask in one quick breath, my voice barely audible.  Oh shit, what am I saying? My heart thumps hard against my chest.  What am I asking him? I've lost my mind.

It’s another first.  Although we’ve slept next to each other countless times, it’s always just sort of something that happens.  I’ve never asked him, he’s never directly asked me.  Tom pulls away slightly, looking at me.  His eyes are clear, that amazing gray blue, and his brow is furrowed.  I soak in the sight of his face.  Those tiny lines that make a map of years and experiences.  The strong cheekbones and his flushed skin.  He swallows, and we are suddenly reading the same unwritten page.  Reading between the lines and understanding every word. 

He nods ever so slightly, and stays quiet for another 30 seconds.

“Absolutely.” His voice is serious, heavy.  It makes me want to shiver and curl against him.  Instiead, I lean forward, silently asking him to kiss me.  I lift my head to him, finding his mouth and pushing my hands through the soft short hair at the back of his neck.  We stay like that for a few more minutes, until we hear Mandy in the front bakery, talking loudly to some customers that must have come in. 

Tom pulls away first.  It comes to my attention that I have frosting all over my sides, Tom has a huge red blob on his chest, and I’m sitting on my stainless steel work table in a pile of flour.  I jump off the table, patting at my butt. 

“Sorry.” He presses his hands together, putting them by his mouth. He’s apologizing, but he looks pretty pleased with himself.

“I’m a mess.” I pull of my apron and shake my head at Tom.  He dabs gently at the raspberry stain on his shirt, but we both know it’s pretty useless.

“I should go home and get cleaned up before dinner.” He chuckles. “But you…you should definitely, absolutely stay exactly as you are.” He puts his hands up, as if framing me in a picture. I shove him on the chest, and he grabs me by the wrists, laughing.  He pulls me into him and starts jokingly smacking me on the ass, making little clouds of flour puff around us.  I’m wiggling against him, and bent over with laughter when Mandy opens the door and comes waltzing in.  We freeze, with Tom mid slap, and Mandy just stares and blinks a few times.

“Am I…interrupting something?” She asks, taking in our disheveled, frosting covered states.  Tom drops my hands and pushes me away, then stands with his hands behind his back, like a school boy just caught breaking a rule.  I cross my hands over my chest and shake my head.

 Mandy can’t even pretend to hide the wide grin on her face.  I shake my head again and shoot a dirty look at Tom, who is barely containing a laugh.

“No.  Tom just…Tom was…” I can’t come up with a suitable reason for why we are so messy, and Tom was swatting at my butt.

“Tom was just smacking Charlie on the bum.” Tom answers for me, giving Mandy a big, cheeky grin.  A surprised laugh bursts out of my mouth and I roll my eyes at Mandy, who is still staring at us and grinning.

“Tom was being an ass.  I need to go get ready for dinner.” I say, walking toward the office to get my things.  Mandy scampers after me, blocking the door once I am inside the small room.

“Is something going on between you two!?” She asks in a loud, excited whisper.  I shove my apron in my bag so I can wash it at home, and I pull my hair quickly back into a messy bun.

“No, of course not, Mandy.” I grab my bag and start turning off the computer.  Mandy clears her throat, clearly not buying my lame lie.

“Why do you have a floury ass?!” She snaps. I cough and frown at her.

“I’m a baker, it happens.” I say it as if it’s every day that I wear most of the ingredients I use as opposed to actually using them. Mandy taps her foot a few times then huffs and puffs.   I have no idea what Tom is doing but I can hear him singing out in the kitchen.  He’s singing really loudly, and somewhat off key. Mandy glances over her shoulder and giggles at something he’s is doing.

“He’s adorable.” She whispers, looking back at me. 

“Hmm?” I blink at her, a bit owlish.

“Jesus, Charlie.” She groans and shakes her head at me.  “What are you two doing tonight?”

“My mother is having a big family dinner.  So we are going to that.” I groan softly.   I really need to get home so I can have enough time to get ready.

“Oh? Both of you? Like a date?”

“Do you often go on dates to awkward family dinners, Mandy? If so, I need to talk to Marcus for you.” I try to walk by her, but she juts a hip out, blocking my way. Today she’s wearing big clunky combat boots with cut off shorts.  She looks pretty bad ass and I don’t try to push past her.

“After dinner you guys need to come to the Ink Pot.  Marcus’ band is playing there tonight. You keep saying you’ll come!  It’s a big deal tonight.  It’s a battle of the bands and it’s the semi-finals.  If their band gets through this round, then they have a chance of playing at the Summer Celebration.” She clasps her hands together, excited.  I sigh and smile at her.

“That’s really cool, Mandy.”

“So you’ll come then?” She asks.

“Come where?” Tom pops his head into the office, leaning past where Mandy is standing, blocking the door even more.  Well, fudge, I might as well just make myself comfortable.  I’m not leaving anytime soon.  I set down my bag on the table and I scowl at Tom, who is grinning at me.

“Marcus’ band is playing at the Ink Pot tonight.  I’m trying to get Charlie to come.” Mandy explains, looking expectantly at Tom. “You should come too, Tom.  Marcus would love that.” Tom’s eyes light up and he smiles.  I can already tell he wants to go.  I want to go as well, and I suppose it’s a good a time as any.

“Oh? The Luckies?” Tom asks.  I didn’t even know the name of Marcus’ band. Mandy nods her head enthusiastically. 

“We could come.  After dinner, Charlie?” He looks at me, his eyes eager.

“Yeah, after dinner.” I agree. It will be good to finally see Mandy and Marcus, someplace other than the bakery.  And I’m sure I’ll need a drink or two after this family dinner.

“Yes! Thank you! It’ll be so fun.” She exclaims, patting Tom on the arm. “Have a great dinner!” She turns then and runs out of the office and back toward the bakery.  “I’ll see you guys tonight!  The Luckies go on at 10!”

Mandy disappears into the front of the bakery, and Tom stays standing at the door of the office.

“Sorry about that.” He looks up at me from lowered eyes.  I put my hands on my hips but I can’t help but smile at him.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.” I lick my lips, and taste sugar.  Ugh, it’s everywhere!

“I’ll see you tonight.  I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” He pulls his shirt out from his pants, and for a split second, I think he’s going to start disrobing right in the office.  Instead, he just tucks his hands into his pants and smiles at me.

“I’ll see you tonight, Tom.” I sigh, and then grab my stuff.  I need to get out before he has a chance to get me into another awkward situation.

**** 

Dinner is at 6:30, and after I finally make it home from the bakery it is after 5.  I rush around, jump into the shower and get ready as fast as I can, but I take way too much time.  I need to wash my hair and shave and use the exfoliating scrub that smells like vanilla beans.  It would have been nice to have time to breathe for a second, but perhaps it is for the best.  If I breathe, then I will remember that I invited Tom to stay over the night.  Then I will start thinking about whether I should be wearing the skimpiest, dumbest sexy underwear I own (it’s totally impractical and expensive) or if I should just be normal and wear my regular lace cheekies and a pretty bra that doesn’t dig into my boobs.  Decisions, decisions.  And should I do my hair? Should I wear make up?

I feel like I’ve been living on a foreign planet for the past 29 years, and suddenly I’m being introduced to earth, and people, and men named Tom, and I feel overwhelmed and lost.  Does not compute.  I’ve been on many dates before.  And this isn’t even technically a date.  But, I don’t usually feel nervous before them.  Right now, I’m practically vibrating with nerves.  I spend at least half an hour running from the bathroom then upstairs to my bedroom, then back down to the bathroom, trying on different outfits.  It’s ridiculous really.

At 6:15, I curse everyone I know or have ever met, and I grab the first outfit I tried on half an hour ago. I pull on a dusty rose colored skirt that’s short and shows off my legs, and a comfy, loose fitting boat neck t shirt.  It’s more feminine than I usually go for and I sort of feel like a cute, casual ballerina, but I like it.  I throw on a pair of flats and pull my hair back into a tight, high bun.  I scoop all the clothing lying around my room into a pile and I shove it back into my suitcase and my make shift dresser. Done.

I grab my phone, which has been sitting on the kitchen table beeping for the last ten minutes, and I check my messages.  It’s from Tom.  It’s a picture message.  I open it up, and immediately start laughing.  The photo is just of his face, and he’s making this huge, cheesy grin.  His hair still looks wet from the shower, and it’s slicked down, molded to his head.  He looks ridiculous and silly and I can’t help but laugh.

Can’t wait to see you for dinner tonight, darling. This is my excited face. He texts. 

I smile, close my phone and grab my things.  I don’t want to be late.