Sweetest Touch

Prologue;

The woman, my mom, continuously rubbed her stomach, smiling. The small bump made her smile. Her un-born child, or me, was the biggest propaganda in her life. This child, me, would give her everything, I would be the smile on her face as she awaited the arrival of me. She didn’t know that I was a girl yet, she didn’t know I would grow up, not be normal. She had no idea what was in store for her when I was being awaited upon. At that time my father was alive. I had a dad. That was before he committed suicide. My mother had no idea that her husband was like that, but oh when she did, she nearly crumbled to a little bit of nothing. But of course I was born already, so she had a shred of happiness left in her. I was the light in her world. Thankfully she never killed herself. I wouldn’t be where I am, if it wasn’t for her.

But here I am today. One of the most successful pastry makers in this state. I was known by everyone in this little town. But so was everyone else. I didn’t mind it, but still. I want the normal teenage life, you know? Everyone knew my food, but not my name nor face. My mom made it her motherly duty for no one to know my face or name. Not even the towns’ media. It was funny. Any time they’d come, my mom had already known.  I didn’t know it for awhile, but my mom made sweets to, so every once in awhile she’d come back and help me. It was how we kept our lives intact, you know?

Now, I had no times to be flipping through old photo books and browsing at old pictures of me in the womb. I gently put down the picture of my mom and my father from before I was born. She had a hand on her stomach and my mom had a gingerly placed hand there.  It was a beautiful picture.  I loved taking it out every once in awhile and looking at my father’s face. I missed him. He killed himself when I was around six, so I had scatters of memories from that time.

I let out a sigh, not mentally, because I tend to do that. I don’t know how, but I do. It scares me sometimes. I pulled my wavy, chocolate brown hair into a bun. A small smile placed on my small, pink lips, as I tied on my apron. I slowly walked down the stairs that led into the back of the bakery. I sniffed in, smelling the beautiful aroma that was my mother’s cooking. I loved it when she baked; I would always find myself sneaking one of her cookies or a piece of cake whenever she did. She never baked bread, and she did that because every time she did, it burned. I always laughed when she attempted, which would come every once in a blue moon.  

I shrugged the thoughts off, as I looked at the little note on the fridge hung up by my old Lilo and Stitch magnet.  Oh the memories. Oh, mama had just gone out to get some new ingredients. Well, if she’s gone I should be about to watch the shop, right? Probably not, but I’m not going to leave that sign on closed!

For once, walking out from the back I opened the small, short door from the front desk, and walked out to the door. I saw that open was facing towards me and I sighed. Oh mama, just let me be, it won’t hurt if I’m out in the front every once in awhile. Ignoring the guilty conscious in the back of my mind, I flipped the sign around, letting a small sigh slip. I wonder how mad she’s gonna get at me for this one. I know she does it for my protection and for me to have that ‘normal teenage life’, but as the contrary I wasn’t going to. In school, I was quite that wallflower. No matter how small this town was, I was still one. Everyone was known by everyone, I just was the quiet, quaint one.

Don’t you dare go thinking I’m a quiet, friendless hobo girl. I had some friends! In fact, there’s one I’ve had since kindergarten. We’ve been through everything together. She’s probably the only one who knows about me being the main baker of this fine establishment. She’s often asks me; If people credit my mom for the work, do you ever get jealous about it? I reply with; a simple headshake. What’s there to be jealous about? They’re not making fun of my work. I don’t care who they think made it as long as they’re enjoying it. That’s why I love baking in the first place. To see their smiles and their eyes light up at just the mere thought and sight of one of my cupcakes.

“Amelia!” I hear Madison yell. Speak of the devil. My best friend ladies and gentlemen, barging into the shop like it’s a normal thing. Well actually, I think it might be. According to my mom she’s a regular customer. Which is why I’m surprised she’s not fat yet. I chuckled at the small thought. But it was quickly pulled away from me as I realized the small hand waving in front of me.

Yes boys and girls, Madison Sparks was a small girl. No matter how... Out there she was, she was small. Around five foot I think. I could say much though; I, Amelia Scott, was only five foot four.

“Yes?” I questioned as she finished saying my name a few more times. I took in her petite, pale figures. She had pale green eyes, pale porcelain skin, pale everything.  You would almost want to think she was sick. I remember once asking her if she was sick. I dreaded asking that. I got slapped so many times you wouldn’t believe it. She then proceeded to tell me she was like an albino, but wasn’t, and that she also rather enjoyed being pale.

You’d think that’s how we meet, right? No, it was in kindergarten when I stole her crayon. I think she slapped me right across the face for that, too. Now that I think about it, she did. It hurt so badly. After school though, I remember her mom making her come over and apologize. Then she just started talking me and ever since then, we’ve been friends. Nice logic our friendship has there. 

"You remember Jake, right? The guy of your dreams?" She said whilst laughing. I managed to turn as bright as a tomato. 

"Sh!" I hissed at her. "Now what about him?" I asked. I don't know why she'd bring him up, but I won't pass up the chance to talk about him. 

"I think he li-" She stopped mid-sentenced. I almost let out a string of cuss words,. She had only stopped because the bell to the door had rung, signalling someone had walked in. We both looked at who had walked in and I think both our mouths drop when we saw who it was.

There stood none other than the one and only Jake Tylers.