Red Velvet

Addicted

Kalani's pov:

"Mommy can I have that one?" I squeak, five years old and my voice was very high pitched. Like I had been inhaling helium. I pointed at a red cupcake and frantically waved my hand around like a psycho.

"Which one darling, you're pointing at all of them." She laughed.

My mother always had a warm smile, lighting up her entire face, and I loved it, I loved her. Everything about my mother. From her flaming red hair to her pink painted toenails.

It was a Saturday afternoon and we were in the middle of our weekly trip to the bakery, looking for the best treat to taste.

My dad owned the shop and we visited him regularly at work, to 'inspect' his handiwork.

"The red one! I want the red one mommy!" I squealed, pointing frantically at a red velvet cupcake.

My mother laughed and my father gave me the cupcake, which I then devoured and licked my lips with pleasure.

"Mmmmmm! Can I have ANOTHER ONE?!" I fell silent and used my best attack, puppy dog eyes.

My parents both gave in and I attacked yet another scrumptious cupcake.

Trying the same thing again however, didn't have the same effect on them, sadly.

"Not now pumpkin, you can have one for lunch tomorrow, do we have a deal?" My mother bribed me.

With great reluctance, I nodded.

We waved to my daddy and I gave him a huge bear hug around the neck, beaming at him.

Okay I was going for another cupcake, fine.

He didn't clue in, or pretended not to, so we then left the shop and went home for the afternoon.

Little did I know, I would only get more and more addicted to those red velvet devils as time went on, never would I ever give up on them. Not in a million years.

***************
12 and a half years later
***************

Cupcakes everywhere. All red velvet, all my favourite, all of them perfect, all made by my father.

God I miss him.

I immediately recognized this to be a dream, seeing as nearly everything was made of cupcakes. I didn't want to leave. But I knew I had to, considering I last remembered the middle of my lecture.

I was shaken awake gently (more or less) by my best friend Jax.

Jackson had been my best friend since I was in grade two.

So basically forever on kid's terms.

His hair was a close call between dirty blond and brown. His eyes were twin pools of chocolate. He was 6'0 in height and he towered over my 5'7 frame. He was built pretty well, but not enough to be considered a jock or bulky. The thing I loved most about his appearance was the freckles that lightly dotted his nose and upper cheeks. His voice was deep and comforting, and his smile was perfect.