My fingers trace across the keys of my laptop but my brain doesn’t stop buzzing with ideas. I’ve been sitting in front of my laptop for half an hour now; trying to force myself not to type, after all there’s no point. My speech for school president could be amazingly persuasive and informative with a hint of humour to win over the votes of the school. That is what any normal candidate would be aiming for. But no normal candidate had been offered the role without the need to say a speech and get the most percentage of votes from the whole school. No matter how much I want to be, I am not a normal candidate. Maybe it’s an unnecessary perk of doing more work than mandatory at school and spending heaps of extra time on extra-curricular activities. Or maybe it’s the recognition of my parents paying an extreme amount more than needed on school donations. ‘Education is important’ they like to remind me as they pay their way around life. If they stopped interfering with their cheque books I would gladly take the role as school president, I mean what a great experience for my last year at High School. There's a knocking at my door and I can only guess who it is by the soft patterned noise against the wood. I respond with permission to enter and give a satisfied smile when Zola, our housekeeper peeks her head around the corner.
"Your mother wants you down stairs and ready for the Jensen’s dinner in twenty minutes" Her Latino accent fills the room
"Thank you" I sigh
"And she recommended you wear your peach dress, she said anything dark will clash with their interior" She laughs when I roll my eyes, "You know what she's like" I nod and she closes the door. This is unfortunately what I get for having a mum that owns a top notch interior designer business. She knows everything about the decoration of everyone’s house in our uptown suburban community because she has designed them all.
Contrary to what my mother knows I’m quite familiar with the Jensen’s interior, especially with Tate, my boyfriend’s room. Although my mother wouldn’t objectify to how much time I spend with him, we just sneak around to get some privacy. Unlike most mothers who spend most of their time trying to keep young lovers apart, mine and Tate’s do everything they can to get us together, not knowing how close we really are behind closed doors. I open my closet and I don’t need to look far for my basic peach dress because, most typically it has already been placed on the hanger in front of all my other clothes, unlike it was this morning. Rolling my eyes I take off my school uniform and hang it up nicely; although there’s no point because as soon as we leave Zola, as ordered by mum will take it down and have it cleaned and back hanging here by the time we get back. I put on the dress and add a light brown cardigan to match over top, something that will most defiantly get a wary look from Satan herself. When I’m content with how I will present myself I walk out to the long corridor and head into the kitchen. Knowing that going out to dinner means that there'll be more socialising than actually eating I might as well get something to munch on now.
I double take at the fruit bowl full of more kinds of fruit than I can count, all with an inviting shine that you only see on fruit in the movies. This is new. I grab an apple and start walking away, about to take a bite. I groan in annoyance when my teeth don't budge through the fruit.
"It's fabulous; they look so real don't they?" I stare wide eyed at my mother's grin.
"Why don't we just get real fruit?" I question, putting the artificial apple back with the rest of its artificial buddies.
"These last longer, it doesn't look good when there's bruised or rotten fruit in your bowl." how logical but speaking of artificial,
"Is dad meeting us there or are we waiting for him?" He normally finishes quite late but he and Tate's father both own a famous cosmetic surgery clinic together, which also contributes to our endless prosperity, so when they aren't in surgery which is hardly ever, they can knock off at any time. Mine and Tate's father working together is a big part in why our mothers are close friends, they get together and complain about the lack of time they get to see their husbands but seem to shut up when they want something done to their faces. Our family’s closeness is also a great anchor for mine and Tate's relationship even though at times it can get annoying.
"He'll be meeting us-" She gets cut off by the sound of the doorbell on the kitchen door that leads out to the back of the house, "Oh that will probably be my delivery, I'll call Zola" She starts walking away
"No it's fine she's probably busy, I'll get it for you" She stares at me for a few moments, contemplating it.
"I hate how you always insist to do Zola's jobs, we pay her more than an ordinary house keeper would get" She normally isn't so quick to give me the same lecture and I don't reply in fear that I will express my opinion on how wrong she is but then she sighs, "Ok then Leyah, they are already paid for but here, tip the deliverer" She pulls out a hundred dollar bill from her purse and before I can question it she smiles, "It's business darling if you don't have the likes of the deliverer you might as well not have ordered anything" Her voice echoes through the house as she walks away. I rush to open the back door, not wanting to keep the "likes of the deliverer" waiting. My confident composure falters when I actually see the delivery guy and I'm confused when I see what he's delivering.
"One Decadent Chocolate cake, one Lemon Kiss cake and half a dozen Orange Dreamsicle cupcakes" He reads off the clipboard sitting on top of the neatly decorated boxes that he's holding, "Oh and it's for Melany Allard" He quickly adds. If he hadn't have recited my mum's name to me I would have sent him away for the wrong delivery. I don't recall us having any plans for people to come over and after the many lectures about healthy eating I've had since I was old enough to understand I find it hard to believe my mum ordered these cakes.
"Must be a gift" I mutter and then open the door wider, but I can see why mum was hesitant about letting me get it "Can you bring them in please?" He walks in without hesitation and I have never been so unaffected by inviting a stranger into my house. He was cute and he had boxes of cake, I guess this is every girl's dream. He carefully puts them down on the counter and turns to me.
"Can you please sign here?" He has an accent that I can't quite figure out. I take the clipboard from him and sign my name, "Leyah" He reads as I sign, "Pretty name" The weird way his accent plays with my name along with the compliment makes me smile.
"You're not from England" I state dumbly and he chuckles
"Yeah I moved here from Australia a few years ago" He tells me and I nod, "By the way those Orange Dreamsicles are delicious, I watched them being made this morning" He gestures to one of the boxes.
"Oh, I'm not too keen on cake or cupcakes in fact baked goods aren't really my thing" I admit and he looks at me offended.
"Please tell me that was some sort of sick joke" He gasps dramatically
"Nope sorry" I shrug, "Oh and here's your tip" I pull out the money and he frowns.
"Look forget the tip, I would never accept that much anyway but you should come down to the shop and try something, it might change your opinion on the whole 'baked goods aren't really my thing'" He hands me a flyer with 'Angel Cake Shop' written on the front, "Just ask for Ashton and they'll give you something extra good" He writes his name down on the flyer
"Ok thank you I guess" I stare at the flyer.
"No problem, and good luck on your quest to find your love for cake" He turns to leave but quickly adds charismatically, "Which won't really be a quest because we are located only twenty minutes away in the Heatly square" Anything to promote the business.
"That's a shame, I like quests" I joke
"I can make a quest especially for you" He says seductively and I burst out laughing
"Wow there delivery boy I think you better go, you wouldn't want any Lemon Kisses' melting before you deliver them right?" I say not knowing if Lemon Kisses' actually require refrigeration or not.
"True" As he starts to walk away I quickly put the hundred dollar bill behind a sheet on his clip board and chase after him.
"You might need this" I look down at all the addresses and signatures on the clipboard and he turns quickly,
"Yeah that might come in handy" He takes it and I watch as he gets into his delivery van decorated with painted cake signage and drives away. I fold the flyer and tuck it into my cardigan pocket and go in search of my mother, who hopefully will have an explanation for the unexpected baked confectionary that could just cost me my sanity.
***
So this is the first chapter please vote and comment if you enjoyed it and fan just because :)
picture on the side is of Leyah
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Cake // Ashton Irwin
FanfictionLeyah Allard, an eager, young private school student brought up by her uptight mother and father to fit in with their modern day first class society. She goes with whatever she is expected to do and is praised highly for it by everyone that knows he...
