"I don't know about this."

My dad was supposed to have left ten minutes ago. Yet, he was watching me pull out all my baking stuff in the kitchen.

It was foolish of me to think, after dropping the bomb that Nate was coming over, my dad would go off to work with no problem.

"Did you miss the part about us getting into Bake-A-Palooza?" I asked, grabbing eggs from the fridge.

"Did you miss the part where his family is a bunch of criminals?" He asked, folding his arms over her chest. "I should've known he was trouble after seeing the video of him fighting."

The doorbell rang and my dad didn't hesitate to answer. A sense of dread enveloped me. This would not be pretty.

When I got to the foyer, I was surprised to find Nessa and Daisy. "What are you two doing here?"

"Moral support," Daisy said cheerfully.

"And taste testing," Nessa added. To my dad, she said, "I thought you had a wisdom tooth extraction this morning?"

My dad glanced at his watch, eyes bulging. "I have to go. Charm, if that boy tries anything funny-"

"Don't worry Mr. C, we'll kick his ass," Nessa said.

Satisfied, my dad finally left for work. Minutes after his car left the driveway, Nate and Lorenzo pulled in. Kara, Landon and Liz were with them.

"What is going on?" I asked Nessa as everyone got settled in the living room. "Why are they all here?"

"Like we told you, moral support and taste testing," she said, navigating me to the kitchen. She grabbed Nate on the way. "Now, you two go make us something yummy."

Honestly, having all our friends there helped with the anxiety I'd felt all morning at the thought of being alone with Nate. Nessa was always thinking ahead.

The TV turned on in the other room, our friends arguing over which Spider-Man was the best. It sounded like Tom Holland was winning.

With them distracted, it was easier to say the things I'd stayed up all night thinking about.

"If we're going to win the competition, we have to be on the same page," I told him, organizing mixing bowls and measuring cups on the island. "And not just with baking."

He came around to the other side of the island, giving me his full attention. "Okay, I'm listening."

"How much did you know about your mom and uncle's plan?" Asked as I slid a recipe card across the island to him. No reason we couldn't talk and work at the same time.

That day I decided to try a layered cake. We wouldn't know what we had to bake until the competition, so I wanted to cover all our bases. Nate needed to know how to properly level and ice a cake.

Without hesitation, he began grabbing ingredients for the cake batter. He had become a lot more confident since that first day we attempted baking together.

I caught myself smiling as he threw ingredients into the mixing bowl. He no longer looked at me to ask if he was doing it right. He hardly checked the measurements at all. I wondered how much practicing he did on his own.

"Nothing, really," he said, finally getting to my question. "Only that your aunt owed my uncle some money."

Just like that, the peaceful bubble we were in popped. Reality had a really annoying way of making itself relevant. "And you thought them destroying my aunt's bakery was a good way to solve that problem?"

He turned the standing mixer on. The sound I once loved grated on my nerves. Was he trying to drown me out?

When he glanced in the direction of the living room, I realized that, unlike me, he remembered we were supposed to keep what really happened to Cake Me Up secret.

"I didn't know about that part," he said with a pained expression. "I didn't think about what they'd need the key for. I just went with it."

That last part was more to himself than me. His voice was heavy with remorse. I wanted to reach out and touch him, let him know he wasn't alone, but I kept my hands on my side of the island.

"I do what people tell me to and don't think about the consequences," he admitted, adding milk to mixing bowl, "or if it's something even I want to do."

"So, you gave them copies of the keys?"

"No," he said, his gaze coming back to me. "I started thinking about the consequences." His voice lowered, barely audible over the whirring mixer as he added, "Too little, too late."

♡ ♡ ♡

We baked. And baked. And baked some more. After the layered cake, which was iced pretty decently by Nate, we made brownies, a Swiss roll and, of course, cupcakes.

The sweet tooth our friends came over with was satisfied and then some. They all lounged on the living room furniture in sugar comas while Nate and I cleaned up the kitchen.

After our chat earlier, we kept the topic to baking. And when there was nothing to say, we worked in a comfortable silence.

The last time we were in my kitchen together, we were stepping all over each other. It went a lot smoother that time. Both of us wanting to give the other their space. That greatly decrease our productivity, though.

We wasted so much time trying not to accident bump into one another. That wouldn't fly during the competition when we were racing against the clock. If we walked around like we were scared of each other, we'd definitely lose.

If we lost, it was going to be because the other team was better, not because Nate and I were afraid to accidentally touch.

That's why I had to bring up the question that had been on my mind for weeks.

"How did I play into the plan?" I asked, wiping a spatula clean with a dishrag. Standing shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen sink was the closest we'd been all day.

Nate turned to me, brows bunched together, as I handed him the sudsy utensil to rinse. "You didn't."

"Right," I scoffed. "You expect me to believe you actually like baking."

I felt his intense gaze on the side of my face as I wiped a bowl clean. "I like you."

The slippery dish fell from my hands, splashing soapy water back at me. Did he really just say that?

"Nate," I said, retrieving the dish I dropped and giving it a proper wipe down. "You don't have to pretend anymore. I'm not going to say anything about what really happened to Cake Me Up. Or if you're only being nice out of guilt, you can stop."

When I tried to hand him the dish to be rinsed and dried, he didn't take it.

"Pretending?" The hurt in his voice made my stomach twist with guilt. I immediately wanted to take back my words.

My insecurities and self-doubt took over and I couldn't shake them. I dropped the soapy bowl into Nate's side of the sink and grabbed a towel to dry my hands on. The kitchen was suddenly suffocating.

"You still think, after everything, that I'm faking my feelings for you?" He asked, eyes following my every move.

I couldn't bring myself to look at him as I busied myself with draping the towel back over the handle of the stove.

"I think...it's all very convenient," I said, finally looking up at him. His eyes were hard, jaw set. A statue who looked cold to the touch. "You spent weeks obsessing over your ex and now, when your family is blackmailing my aunt out of her insurance money, you like me?"

His brows furrowed, lips parting with unspoken words. "You can't really believe that. Not after that night we spent in my room."

I didn't know what to believe. All I knew was that I couldn't handle having my heart broken again and Nate had all the tools to shatter it.

"You mean the night Cake Me Up burned down?" I said, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. "How do I know you weren't just trying to distract me?"

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren't true. But there was a wall of fear, insecurities and doubts blocking any rational thoughts I had.

His shoulders slumped as he let out a defeated sigh, reaching up to rub his brow. Then he froze, his eyes lighting up as they met mine.

"You see this," he said, pointing to the brow he'd just been touching.

It wasn't hard to miss the scar that broke up his otherwise perfectly sculpted, thick brow. I did a shrug and nod combo, not sure what he was getting at. "What about it?"

"Marquis Latimer did this."

The name brought up a memory from elementary school. Marquis was always in trouble for fighting—students, teachers. It didn't matter to him.

I also remembered him stealing my lunch once in third grade and how he pushed me down when I tried to get it back.

Now that I thought about it, Marquis transferred schools afterwards.

"Remember when he took your lunch?" He continued, not waiting for my answer. "I tried to get your lunchbox from him after school and he hit me with it. Obviously, I didn't get your stuff back, but a teacher saw everything and Marquis was expelled the next day."

How didn't I know that? He went up against a nine-year-old devil incarnate...for me?

"And you hated dodgeball," he said, "Whenever Mr. CJ made us play, you looked like he sentenced you to death. That's why I always got you out first."

Playground memories flooded my head. Of Nate targeting me with that red rubber ball and having to sit on the sidelines. Of him tugging at my afro puffs every chance he got. Now, knowing he was willing to fight Marquis to get my lunchbox back...

Was it his immature, school boy way of showing me he liked me?

Did Nate have a crush on me in third grade?

"I knew you looked familiar that first day I saw you," he said. "But I didn't realize who you were until the day you told me off after you thought I was calling you fat."

Heat rose up my neck at the memory of me snapping at him. It felt like forever ago when he'd first stepped into the bakery, Nessa and I shamelessly checking him out.

Then, I was still hung up on Kailand and unaware of how my aunt's new employee would completely turn my life upside down.

"What I'm trying to say is," he paused, letting out a nervous breath as he took a tentative step towards me, "I liked you back then and I like you now. It's not out of guilt or because I want something.

"I like you because of your confidence and how you know exactly what you want and won't stop until you get it. You never back down from a challenge. You're not afraid to speak your mind. And you always smell like cake."

I quickly covered my mouth after a very unattractive snort-laugh came out at that last part. Nate's face lit up with amusement as he took another step towards me. One more step and the distance between us would be closed.

"I know the stuff my uncle did to the bakery was messed up," he said, his words a little rushed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "And I know I'm not innocent in the whole thing, so I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but I—"

I kissed him. I took the step. A leap. A chance. Whatever you wanted to call it, I did it. Closed the distance and ended his rambling rant by pressing my lips to his.

My heart beat rang in my ears and there was still an annoying, but very distant voice in my head that told me I was making a mistake.

As soon as Nate kissed me back, that voice was silenced. Not an echo or a murmur left.

He stood up to a bully for me and helped me out of playing one of the most embarrassing games ever made. He learned a new skill just so he could be my partner at Bake-A-Palooza. He made a video that won us a spot in the baking competition.

The evidence of how Nate felt about me was laid out in front of me. All I had to do was to allow myself to believe it.