He swerved around to shield himself from me, but it was too late. I'd recognize that face I'd been stalking anywhere. It was him. Koyuki Tamura.

He hadn't disappeared. He merely entered this room to bake.

Animated stars filled my eyes, that I knew. My once gaping look was morphed into a wide smile. That rumour was true after all...! He really did bake! The reason he left the club so late and took his sweet time afterward was so that he could shake off any lingering students in this school to bake!

"Tamura!" I cried, my voice muffled by the glass. "It's me, Kotori Teruhashi! Let me inside!"

Regardless of my shouts, Koyuki didn't address me. He set the bowl of batter he was mixing onto the counter with his head hung low.

"Tamura," I called out anyway, assured it was because he couldn't hear me. I raised my voice to an even higher decibel. "What are you baking? Is it a cake?"

No response came from the guy, and I was starting to lose my patience. I retreated from the window and rapped my knuckles against the glass. Still nothing. Dropping my fist, I puffed my cheeks. Was he ignoring me? As if I'd let that happen!

Placing my hands at my mouth, I sucked in a large breath before screaming, "KOYUKI TAMURA! PLEASE LET ME INSIDE THE HOME ECONOMICS ROOM—"

Before the final words could even leave my mouth, the door to the room yanked open.

Koyuki stood at the entrance, face flushed from exasperation. He seized me by the arm and tugged me inside before I could come to terms with his strength.

I stumbled a bit but regained my balance before I could wipe out on the linoleum. But just as I regained my balance, Koyuki infiltrated my vicinity, nostrils flaring, teeth clenched from insurmountable rage.

"Stop shouting my name so loud! Do you want to get us in trouble?"

For a moment, I couldn't surface any words. Sure he was handsome, but getting handsome people mad was never a pretty sight. And for as long as I knew the guy, I'd never thought it was even possible for him to raise his voice this loud.

Fuming under his breath, Koyuki continued to hover over me at his height, not allowing his malice to falter at all. I swallowed hard, mute.

Clicking his tongue, he backed away then went to shut the door.

"I should've expected you'd follow me here," he grumbled to himself, using the back of his hand to brush his blond hair from his eyes. "I wasn't being careful enough."

My lips slowly met in the form of a frown. But before I could fall into a pool of guilt for ever stumbling upon him here, a sweet scent reached my nose. I inhaled dreamily and glanced over to the source—the bowl of batter.

My feet were already leading me toward it before I could stop them. The batter was creamy and smelt so sweet with the lingering warmth of cinnamon. Apples were sprawled in a separate bowl on the counter, cinnamon, butter, brown and white sugar alike lying around as well. And in the electric mixer, beating at a low rhythm was a white mixture—whipped cream that wasn't quite stiff. Unflattened dough and small aluminum tins were evident as well off to the left where the oven was already switched on to preheat.

I had only lost sight of him maybe ten or fifteen minutes ago and he had already worked this fast? While I went home early these last couple days, don't tell me he spent his time prepping this all?

"Apple pie?" I guessed, bringing my nose even closer to the batter. I could already feel myself begin to drool. "It smells so good..."

I was seized by the arm and tugged back before any of my saliva could dare drop inside. I found myself face to face with Koyuki once again, who clearly wasn't impressed.

"If you're just going to drool, take a seat over there and keep quiet."

He ushered me to the opposite end of the room where a stool was placed.

"I'm going deal with the pie so don't move until then."

With one last warning glare over his shoulder, he left to handle what he was doing. But even as I sat in my chair, the sickly sweet scent of cinnamon and apples wouldn't leave my mind.

Like before, Koyuki worked quickly. Though fast he was, he was careful, working with the precision of a trained professional. It proved that this wasn't the first time he was in a kitchen. He'd worked with apple pies before. And lord knew what other deliciously baked goods.

Truth be told, despite an hour going by, I was mesmerized. Watching him handle the whipped cream, making sure it performed a perfect quiff and stiffened the way he liked it, and if the filling for the pie was coming together the way it was supposed to. At first, he was a little tense, maybe because he knew I was watching, but soon enough, he'd allowed himself to relax. His frown was gone, and the corners of his lips quirked up more often than not whenever he saw success in either the filling or dough and also when the pie crust came out of the oven, perfectly golden as it was supposed to.

Although Miko had told me he was a really skilled director in the Film Club, I couldn't see that now. His directing skills I'd witnessed this past week by stalking him was exceptional, sure, but compared to the way he carried himself in the kitchen, it was nothing but a small ripple in an ocean.

He'd told me not to move, but I couldn't even pry away my awe to look away for one moment, let alone physically get up to bother him.

When Koyuki had finished with the final details and slid one of the tiny aluminum pie tins toward me, I was beaming. It was a golden brown, cracked in few places which let the warm apple-cinnamon filling ooze from the gaps. The scent wrapped around me in a cozy blanket. Within that suspended moment of awe, I savoured the creation with my eyes one last time. It was so beautiful. I couldn't believe he—a student, the same age as me—made this just now.

"It took longer than I thought, sorry," he said to wake me from my daze.

I gulped hard, reaching for the plastic fork he'd set aside for me as well. But my saliva was already rolling down the corner of my mouth.

"I can really eat this?"

"I did keep you waiting." He waved. "Have fun."

For a moment, the idea of ruining such a magnificent pie didn't sit well with me. But my stomach was rumbling way too much to ignore. As I bit into it, it broke between my teeth with a soft crunch. The cool, saltiness of the whipped cream blended perfectly with the cinnamon and apple. It filled my mouth with pleasure and for a moment, all fell still, as if a wave of content had frozen the world solid.

I chewed and chewed until that bite was all gone. Then went for another.

I hadn't even stopped to tell him how good it was because I kept throwing more and more forkfuls into my mouth.

Which was why even when Koyuki took a seat at the table across from me, a hand in his palm, an elbow rested on the table, gaze completely glued to me, I barely paid it any mind. What did momentarily snap me from my eating, however, was a short, albeit amused, chuckle that left his lips.

"You can slow down, you know," he said with his next breath. "There's still plenty left."

I looked up from the pastry. His sweet, amber-tinged eyes had softened, blond hair casting shadows on his face and making his broad smile stand out. It was one completely at peace—capable of bringing his handsome face to an entirely new light.

Heat filled my cheeks. To distract myself, I shovelled the last couple bites of the pie into my mouth, but as soon as it touched my tongue, all rationality was lost. I was soaring on cloud nine yet again. My hand to my cheek, definitely still flushed from bliss, I swayed like a tree in the wind, the flavours on my tongue a dancing harmony. It was just so delicious!

He laughed once more. I let out a dreamy breath and focused myself on the now grinning boy. My heart swelled like a balloon.

I slapped the table.

He jumped, all traces of amusement vanishing from his features. More so, when I pushed myself to my toes, bending over the table so I could stare him face to face.

"Wh-what?" he demanded, wide-eyed.

My lips stretched back to my ears. I scooped his hands into mine. "You're amazing!" I told him, almost getting lost in the rings of his irises. "Gifted! You can open a pathway to the heavens with your baking!"

Koyuki's mouth moved wordlessly for a while. And whether it be from our proximity or the praise, slowly but surely, a blush of his own crept onto his pale cheeks.

"Stop exaggerating."

"I'm not." I brought my face even closer. His eyebrows shot high. Glee flourished within me, the flavour still doing the tango on my tongue. "Tamura!"

His blush reached the tips of his ears. He angled his chin, shutting his eyelids to keep his distance. "Do you have to be so close—"

"Stay by my side forever!"

The words left my mouth before I realized it. But Koyuki was gawping, eyeballs bulging from their sockets.

"What?!"

"No, wait, sorry." I backed off and shook my head. "That's not what I meant to say. Your pie is just making me fantasize about you baking for me for the rest of our lives."

"It's doing what?" he shouted again.

Gosh, why was my brain like that? "More importantly," I said before he could jump to conclusions, though I was sure that was already too late. "I need you to join my club!"

Fortunately, my statement had made him gape for another reason entirely. "A club?"

"Yes! A club good enough to stand against the Cooking Club. One amazing enough to make the vice president cower under our feet!"

"Wait, Teruhashi." He freed his hand from mine and reclined on his stool to create more space between us. He inhaled and exhaled heavily, holding out his hand to keep me away. "Slow down!"

I stood blankly from where I was, puzzled as Koyuki continued to take deep breaths to regain his composure. Once he was back to his senses and his blush was almost gone, he opened his mouth.

"Let me get this straight: you want to start up another Cooking Club?"

I put a finger to my chin. "Well, not exactly. I was thinking one centred around only baking. The 'Baking Society'! How about that for a club name?"

"Hold on. I don't get why you came to me for this," Koyuki said. "Isn't the school year almost over? Aren't we starting as third-years in exactly three months?"

"Yes!" I took a large step forward. "But I need members to start up a club, right?"

"Wait! Keep your distance—"

But his cry was lost knowledge to my already raving thoughts. I pressed forward past his hand until we were eye to eye yet again, and clenched my fists. "Please! I need you, Tamura!"

The boy was left completely speechless. Astonishment and awe swam across his mouth-dropped features. His blush returned, this time consuming his entire face and even ears. His flustered reaction put him on par with a statue, symbolized by how he could barely move or summon any coherent words.

We may have been like that for a minute or so, but eventually, Koyuki's twitching mouth flatlined. In one fell swoop, a flicker of anger washed over his countenance.

"Like I told you that day you tackled me," he said, his voice rising from a shaky whisper, "I'm already in the Film Club."

"It's all right." I inched a tad closer. "They allow you to join multiple clubs in this school!"

"That's not the issue!" He attempted moving away again but wasn't very successful. He then twisted his face to the side and shut his eyes to avoid looking at me. "I quit baking a long time ago! I don't do cooking or baking clubs! I prefer filming now!"

I put another foot forward. My parted lips were inches from his cheek. "But—"

"Jeez!" As if it was the last straw, he used his palms to push my shoulders. I was shoved back a good distance, and with it, Koyuki lurched to his feet from the stool. His arm over his reddened face, he grounded his teeth together. "You keep getting way too close. Stop it!"

Was that why he was so red? I bit the inside of my cheek, twiddling my fingers. "Sorry. It's a habit."

"At least you realize it." He exhaled heavily. For some reason, he was breathless. "Look, I can't join this 'Baking Societies' or whatever you called it. I already have my hands full with our final film for the Film Club."

My heart sunk in my chest. I bent over. "But—"

"No means no!" he said, extending his hands out to keep me away. "I'm not interested in baking at all. Doing it doesn't make me happy in the least so I'm not joining your club! Final!"

He'd kept our grand distance before I could get too close again. Huffing and puffing, he stood there, glad to had gotten it all off his chest. Unsatisfied, I replayed his words in my head. He wasn't interested in baking? It didn't make him happy? There was no way that was true. Because...

"You were smiling."

Koyuki's eyebrows rose on his forehead. "Huh?"

"While you were baking," I said. "When you made sure the filling tasted right. When the whipped cream came out with the perfect quiff. When the pie was officially finished and you set it onto the cooling rack to cool. When you gave me a slice to eat and I was enjoying it so much. Your... smile suited you so well, Tamura! You looked so happy throughout it all!"

My words had caught him off guard again, and I'd unknowingly entered his vicinity once more.

"There's no way you don't enjoy baking anymore," I continued. "Even after you left the Cooking Club last year, you still continued to bake because—"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

My words caught in my throat. Koyuki's tone had lowered to a growl, no longer carrying traces of his previous lightheartedness.

"Whether I smiled or not doesn't matter," he went on. "I... don't bake anymore. I stopped being interested in it a long time ago."

"How?" I demanded. "You even came to this room to bake this apple pie in secret!"

"In secret," he echoed, harshly. Then sent me a cold glare. "You just caught me at the wrong time. I thought since I hadn't baked in a while, I might as well try it out before I went home today. That's it. That's all it was."

Was he being honest? Was that delicious pie I tasted something somebody hadn't made in 'a while'? Was that smile something someone who wasn't interested in baking would show?

As silence in the room lapsed over, Koyuki's frown grew.

"You should go home."

"Tamura," I tried.

"And don't tell anybody about today. I don't want you spreading around rumours that aren't true." He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt and walked over to the dishes in the sink. "I've got to clean up this mess so don't bother waiting for me."

He didn't say anything after that, and the running sound of water drowned out whatever courage I had left to convince him otherwise.

If what he said really was true—if he really did leave baking and everything related to it behind him years ago—then why did he have to sound so sad while saying it?