Devil's Food Cake [✓]

24 | braveheart

To my surprise, Jonny wasn't totally against the idea of meeting Zachary again. We wiped tables together the next day in the bakery.

'What's the worse that can happen?' he said.

Dad was in the back; Dorothy had dashed out early to go and see her boyfriend to watch a stupid horror movie about clueless self-absorbed teenagers being trapped in a high school with a murderous school teacher. You know, the usual ten-a-penny horror movie of the moment.

One of my other colleagues Adam, a be-speckled, perennially anxious university graduate, who had supposed to come in for a shift that day had called in sick, so my reliable partner-in-crime Jonny had agreed to cover Adam's shift (he'd said that he welcomed any opportunity to see more of me. He was adorable! My friend Louisa would be so jealous if she knew...)

'I don't know.' I shrugged, picking up a few scattered cups and laying them on my tray. 'I don't trust him.'

Jonny laughed. 'Candice, it's not like he's a prince. You don't have to worry about being swept away by a flood of rapacious Englishmen. I'll fight for your honour.'

I narrowed my eyes at him and tried to give him a scolding look, but I ended up spluttering with laughter. 'Has someone been watching too much Braveheart, perchance?'

'What's wrong with watching Braveheart?' Jonny's expression was guileless. 'It's a good story. Man fights for country and to avenge his lady. Perfect!' There was a playful glint in his eye that made me feel quite giddy. I giggled and gave him a coy smile beneath my eyelashes. He always knew what to say; his presence made me feel as happy as a clown eating a crumpet.

'You're seriously comparing our situation to Braveheart.' I turned my eyes dramatically upwards as though I was exasperated with him.

An idea struck him at my words; his eyes caught on the jar of Nutella on one of the tables and I watched curiously as he cracked the jar open.

'What are you doing—' I began.

He dipped a spoon in the brown substance and used his fingers to paint haphazard marks on his face, and I watched with bulging eyes as he did this, only comprehending to late what he was getting at.

'English scum,' he muttered under his breath, a perfect mimicry of Mel Gibson's Scottish accent, but at the same time, something which sounded like his own. Jonny's parents were Scottish, after all.

'I'm English!' I squealed, sticking out my tongue. 'That's not fair!'

'Taking our bakery, taking our...' Jonny/Mel/Braveheart growled; he picked up a condiment from the the table. 'Heinz Mayonnaise. They do mayonnaise now?' He mused, momentarily taken aback at this revelation.

I had sharp pangs from the silent laughter I was trying to hold in. I gripped the edge of the table trying to control myself. 'Yes, you're so out of the loop, Jonny.'

'Ok. Weird,' he continued, 'Where was I? Taking our Mayonnaise, taking my candy.' He strode over to me, ignoring my half-hearted protests to keep away and swept me up in his arms and spun me around. 'But he won't take me freedom!' he roared.

'Technically we shouldn't even be going out!' I managed to say through my uncontrollable fit of giggles. 'Your Scottish; I'm English. It's forbidden.'

'You're my bonny lass. Dunnae matter!' He kissed me deeply; a thrill of comfort spread through my body at his touch; his lips had the same affect as eating fizzy cola bottles.

We broke away before my Dad could walk in on us. I had promised Jonny that I wanted to keep our relationship secret for now; I didn't want my dad to know that we'd broken the number one rule of working relationships — don't get romantically involved with a co-worker.

Jonny respected my wishes; he didn't want to be sacked by my father. Dad probably wouldn't have done this, but I didn't really want to risk it.

It felt amazing to be working with my boyfriend - it meant I could see him most days. I was lucky to have Jonny. Being around him made me smile and I was a very smiley person, so it felt like life was good, great even.

'So you don't mind going? We don't have to. I'm sure he won't be crying alone in his fancy flat.'

'Nope.' My boyfriend placed his hands on my shoulder, his gaze was soft and assured. 'Give him a call and RSVP. We'll get a free dinner out of it. It's not like you have to see him again afterwards if you still think he's a bastard. These types are one trick ponies.'

I smiled, a sunflower-yellow lightness spread in the pit of my belly. 'You're so sensible, Jon. I love you, babe.'

'Love you too, Candy.'