Definition: Slut [ complete ]

[ Boys Are D*** ]

[ Boys Are D*** ]

Angel cake...no, I don't like sponge cake that much. Maybe something else.

Boston cream pie...Black Forest cake... Those are too normal. I need something soothing.

Red velvet...ugh. It's too red-it'll remind her of love.

Tiramisu...mango mouse...

Oh my god, why is choosing cake such a difficult task. Groaning, I was in the verge of madness. I was so ready to punch the glass wall that separated me from the tens and twenties of good-looking cakes in this bakery. Man, I thought that this was going to be easy. Apparently, choosing the right kind of cake is a lot more difficult than balancing a chemical equation during combustion in a closed system.

"Do you need help with anything?" came a male voice in front of me. Looking up, I smiled when I realized who this person was. With his dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes, you'd be a fool to not know who Timothy-or, Timmy, as what his friends would call him-was. He was one of the ace player's in the U's soccer team and one of Oliver's friends.

He was rather attractive, though there were speculations that he was engaged with an old woman who won the lottery, which was the reason why he didn't date anyone at all.

"I need a cake," was my reply.

He grinned. "Well, take your pick," he answered, gesturing to the many kinds of cakes. "We've got quite a bit. Which one would you like?"

I gave him a look. "If I knew, I'd tell you," I muttered, "I don't even know what to get."

Timmy sighed, walking around the counter and took a stand beside me to inspect the cakes with me. "What's the occasion?" he asked.

"Nothing, really," I answered, "I'm just getting a cake for a heartbroken friend."

He smiled, snapping his fingers together. "How 'bout an ice cream cake?" he suggested, "Don't girls pig out of ice cream anyway?"

I glared at him. "You're sexist," I growled, pushing him slightly. He only smiled, placing his hands in the pockets of the baby blue apron he was wearing. "But I suppose you're right."

He chuckled, walking around the counter and grabbed one of the ice cream cakes. "Will this do?" he asked.

It was vanilla, so the cake was plain white with purple and blue outline-nothing about it was romantic at all. Though, it still didn't feel right. Ice cream cake was too childish to have when mending a broken heart.

"Would it make it better if I write down boys are dickless dicks in pink icing?" he suggested. I knew he was joking but that was a totally awesome idea.

"Yes!" I agreed, clasping my hands together, excited to see how that would turn out. That was what she needed. What's more is that a boy was the one who suggested it... or well, maybe I can tell her that I told a boy to write that. Yeah. That would probably be a lot better. "Do just that!"

Chuckling, Timmy grabbed the pink icing, placed some inside a plastic-like thing and squeezed the contents out in a small hole, graciously spelling out the words. I peered over his work, amused by the fact that he wrote so neatly and nicely.

It was unfair.

My handwriting was like chicken scratch compared to his. Though, I supposed that it was a mandatory skill to work in a bakery like this.

After confirming with me that it was good enough, he placed it in a white box and tied a blue ribbon around it. "Usually people would ask for the box with hearts and the red ribbon since its Valentine's Day and all," he said when I paid for the cake, "But since this is a special occasion, I'm giving you the plain box-free of charge."