Sugar (Harry Styles)

2.

A few days later, a new girl walked into town. It was early in the morning and the sun was just peeking out from the tops of the homes and businesses in Holmes Chapel. Daphne’s soft leather loafers padded across the chilly cement of the sidewalk until she began to smell the delicious aroma of yeast, sugar, and milk. Sure enough the sign for Thirteenth Bakery came into sights and the smile on Daphne’s face grew larger. 

As she pushed on the blue door she was immediately hit with the warm feeling that only a bakery could supply. It was like walking into your grandmother’s kitchen on a Sunday morning, you could only expect that whatever it was, it was going to fill you up and make you happy for the rest of the day.

Daphne brushed her bluntly cut bangs from her eyes as she took a moment to inspect the space and how it was laid out. It was obvious that this was not a modern bakery; it was simple and thrived off the food it made not off the décor or ambiance.

“Hello?” A throaty voice came from the back and Harry popped around the corner. His dark hair was pushed back with a thin hairband that Daphne could’ve sworn was just an extra-large rubber band. His hands and elbows were covered in flour and his apron showed signs of being freshly dusted with confectionary sweetness.

“Hello!” Daphne replied back. She pulled back her plump lips and smiled brightly, her white teeth sparkling at the boy.

“Good morning, I’m Harry. Can I help you? I don’t have much made this morning, I’m sorry.” He shrugged his shoulder and moved around to rest against the empty glass case.

He looked over the girl, she was new to town. No one looked like her, at least not that Harry had seen before. She was much shorter than him, average in weight with a cute figure that matched her heart-shaped face. What struck him were her eyes. At first he thought they were blue but upon further inspection they were a particular shade of gray. They were perfectly frame by her bangs and long sweeping auburn hair that for the moment was tied back in a pony-tail. She was beautiful, it was unexplainable. Harry had to stop himself from saying it out loud.

“That’s okay,” Daphne said in a sweet voice as she caught him staring. It was normal for her now. She really hated it but after years of it happening she had managed to disregard it now.

“I was actually here because I saw your advert online.” She stepped forward and produced a print out of the advertisement.

He hadn’t had much luck with finding anyone; she was the first to walk in, at six in the morning too.  Harry’s large hand reached out and checked the paper; sure enough it was the advertisement. Harry’s dimpled cheeks pulled into a smile.

“Well how long have you been baking?” Harry asked as he laid the paper back on the glass top of the display case.

“I’m self-taught,” Daphne began, “I’ve been baking since I was a little girl but have been taking it as a serious past time since I was about 13. So about ten years…”

“A past time?” Harry asked with a smirk, “I have a business to run here, miss… I’m sorry what’s your name?”

“Daphne Zika, and believe me. I understand your predicament.” She said as she reached out to take the paper on the top of case and stuffed it into her large bag again. It was then that Harry saw some of the contents in her bag: a wooden spoon, whisk, a few measuring spoons, and a jar of something. He couldn’t quite tell what the rest of the contents of her bag was, but it made him interested.

“So do you carry the kitchen sink in that bag too? Or just the essentials? I can never leave home without my spatula.” He teased, a soft chuckle coming from his throat.