All Things Considered [🗸]

16. the straights

THE CHIMES OF GRAN'S clink together, slight music rising to the air as I shut the door behind me.

It's the closest bakery to school, and almost every Tuesday, they sell an apple fritter special. Naturally, I roll into the place to buy a couple or so, alongside the cronuts that Kieran is obsessed with.

My eyes carefully flick over the customers to the front desk. A tall figure donning a pastel apron and a fitted white shirt underneath that contrasts with his dark skin. He's at the register, eyes resting on something on the desk in front of him.

My eyebrows fly upwards. While I know that Dion works at Gran's, I've never actually run into him more than a few times. He's not normally here on Tuesdays. As if he can feel my gaze, his eyes flick upward, widening when they land on mine.

Then he mouths a nearly audible what are you doing here?— one that I don't give much of a response, save for a slight shrug as I slowly approach the counter. 

Once I arrive, I shake my head, lips twitching as I ask, "I can't visit every once in a while?" A pause as my voice lowers, my hand simultaneously rising to my chest, "as your fake boyfriend, I'm quite fucking insulted."

Dion leans back and does that thing where he blows out a gust of air in frustration, before proceeding to run his hand through his curls. His fingers tug at the sleeve of his t-shirt before he exhales again. "If you're not going to buy anything, please leave." 

And the please leave sounds a lot like get the fuck out of here but with some charm. Impressive how he can convey something different than what actually leaves his lips, I'll admit.

"Nah," I say in response, eyes flicking over the pastries and treats that tantalizingly sit behind glass. I take in the options, still very aware of Dion's lips pursed and constant fidgeting. He seems awkward as fuck about the pink apron and the sinister, smiling cupcake plastered onto it.

"What would you recommend?" I ask, my mind taking note of the cronuts and the apple fritter special seated prettily behind the glass.

"A punch in the jaw with a side of middle finger," Dion replies, almost on cue.

I give him a little gasp in response. "Rude." 

Before either of us can say anything else, a shorter woman speedily makes her way up to Dion. She's got a head full of curly hair, dark skin and narrow glasses. 

"Dion," she sort of whispers after offering me a smile, "are you helping him out?" she asks, slightly jutting her head in my direction. He nods, and she pats him in the back before moving on. Still, his eyes stay sharp as they rest on mine. "I recommend the red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing."

"Alright," I say, tapping the glass briefly before meeting his eyes. "I'll take an apple fritter, three cronuts and..." my eyes meet his before flicking back to the glass, "a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing."