Falling For The Cupcake Boy (Still Baking;)

Chapter 6: The Elliott Academy

Isabelle's P.O.V.

I enter the bakery, the bell above the door giving a soft ring as I step inside. Elliott looks up from cleaning the counter and hurries over to me. He swiftly picks up the bags with one hand and disappears into the kitchen again. What's with him and the kitchen?

I decide to take a seat on one of the chairs since I was still panting from pedalling so far. The second my butt made contact with the cushiony seat, Elliott shouts, “Isabelle! Get in here, please!" from inside the kitchen. I was about to roll my eyes again, but I stopped when I realized he said please. Elliott Bane, bad boy of Bestmont High, annoying jackass, said please? Hallelujah! It was a frickin' miracle! I jumped straight up and hurried to the kitchen. It must be pretty urgent if he had to say please. Not that I mind, of course. I was starting to like the new, polite version of Elliott.

As I stepped into the kitchen, he immediately tossed me a t-shirt. “Put that on," he orders.

I looked down and saw that I was wearing a yellow sundress. I can't wear a t-shirt with a dress, it will ruin my outfit!

“But it doesn't go well with my clothes!" I reason.

“Just put on the damn shirt! I don't care about all your girly shit!" He exclaims. Well, so much for being polite.

I sighed and pulled it over my head. I looked down at the large words written in print. “Elliott Bane's Baking Academy?" I ask. “What the hell is this?"

“Look, if you're gonna work at a bakery, you gotta learn how to bake. So far, all you've done is remove dust bunnies and annoy me all day." He answers. As much as I'd love to hit him, he did have a point. If I'm gonna work here, I have to bake.

“You know you could have taught me without the t-shirt and everything," I say, standing beside him on the long table piled with baking ingredients.

“Just shut up and watch," he says, rolling his eyes. He picks up a mixing bowl and grabs a measuring cup, pouring flour into it like a boss. He dumps the contents of the cup into the bowl, adding a couple of eggs and another boss-ly amount of baking soda. He picks up a spoon and puts in small amounts of salt and sugar without even looking, his eyes dancing in amusement as he watches me with an amazed look on my face with the way his fingers flawlessly dance through the kitchen, pouring this and that, mixing in a couple other things, and knowing what to do as if he's been raised in a kitchen himself. He grabs the Cadbury from the bag and sets it in the stove to melt. While waiting for the bar of chocolatey goodness to heat, he pours in some vanilla in the mix, together with some heavy cream, and adds a cup full of chocolate chips. He opens up a bag of yeast and adds some in, stealing another glance from me as I sit in a stool, watching him do his work. As the Cadbury melts into a pool of chocolate, he adds some into the mix, leaving half of it to cool in the fridge. He adds about a bar of butter too in the mix before putting the whole thing in the mixer. While the batter is mixing, he grabs a cupcake tray and begins scooping the now-mixed batter into it. He sets the tray in the oven, grabbing the melted chocolate from the fridge, throwing it in the mixer with some cream and butter.  He puts the thing in an icing bag and sets it off to cool in the fridge again. He finally wipes his hands on a rag and waits for the cupcakes to finish.

“So, did you see that, or were you just staring at my overly gorgeous face?" He says with a smirk I've gotten used to.

“Don't get your hopes up, Bane. You love yourself way too much. You aren't the hottest ingredient in the pan," I scoff.

“And what is that supposed to mean? Like, seriously. I haven't heard that term before. No one says that. Ever." He says, staring at me with a serious face.

“Fine. But you're still vain. Bane the vain. Yeah, that's pretty good. I'll use that," I say with a small grin.

“Okay, I know it's not part of the deal, but you happen to be a gigantic pain in the ass right now. And I'm gonna fix it. I'm gonna transform you from...whatever you are to... somebody. First rule, no pick up lines or puns, or jokes even! Girls don't do that. If you want to survive high school, and get out of here, alive at least, follow my rules and stick with it. Got it?" He says with the same serious expression.

“You know what? Today has surprised me a lot. First of all, you made a freakin' t-shirt. And it actually fit me, not like those potato sacks you make during home economics. Second, you actually said please. You know I've been praying so hard for you to actually be nice to me, and you actually do it. For a split second, at least. Although it is no surprise you insult me after, but I'm quite used to it. Third, you bake like a boss and you rock that apron better than Rachel Ray. And fourth? I don't even wanna go there, but I will. Oh, I will. You actually made a serious face. Yeah, your facial muscles were all hard and stuff, and you acted like a completely normal person. Hoorah!" I yell sarcastically.

“What is that even supposed to mean?" He retorts.

“It means these eyes aren't used to seeing you look like a normal person. Most of the time, you wear that annoying little smirk that I'm pretty sure is unhealthy. I was even starting to think you had a facial ailment or something. I was prepared to get you a facial doctor...or maybe a brain one, who knows? Point is, you actually act like a normal person when you're in this kitchen. I don't know what kind of voodoo your grammy has on this place, but it's working. But although I'm impressed with your temporary normality, I will not be taking orders from you just yet. Who knows what you'll turn me into? A smirky minion or a cupcake hooker, I don't care. I don't trust you just yet, Bane. You can't change me even if you tried." I say.

“Fine," He scoffs.

“Fine," I mock him.

“Fine," he says rolling his pathetic eyes.

“Fine!" I spat.

“Fi-" he was cut off by the oven giving off a ding.

“Cupcakes are ready," I point.

“Thanks so much for stating the obvious," he says sarcastically. He grabs the tray from the oven using some oven mits, and then places them on the small counter. "Just...try them," he breathes out as if it was the hardest thing he's ever had to say his whole life.

I jump down from my seat on the table and inch closer to the tray giving off small fumes of smoke from the heat of the cupcake. "But don't think I'm gonna love it because-" I immediately ate my words, like, literally. The cupcake was freaking DELICIOUS! Like, the flavors were having a party in my mouth. I stuffed the whole cupcake in my mouth, expanding it maybe to the size of a squirrel's.

Now I'm starting to wonder why this place looks like a wasteland during opening. The world deserves to know how yummy these things are. And if Elliott is too damn lazy to show it to the world, then I guess it's up to me.