Sweetness is Key

Sweetness is Key

I peered over the cinnamon rolls display, a few inches behind my mother who was currently ordering a freshly baked sesame loaf, following the same routine we carried out every Saturday morning. I used to complain about why I had to accompany her whilst she did her morning shopping - morning - the time when I should still be curled up in bed; however she insisted that I needed to help her carry some of the bags, which was a lie since I ended up carrying nearly all of them.

All, except one.

Alléchant - meaning enticing -is the new bakery which opened up a month ago which sells all sorts of sweet and savoury bread, bread that tastes delicious and this was a big deal for my mother who stumbled upon this place during its opening week. Ever since, she has made a massive deal about how this is the only bakery that will ever satisfy her need for sesame loaf - which, may I add, is actually quite plain tasting - but it's the only type of loaf that my mother will deem acceptable to eat so she has to carry the bag with care. I don't know why; just think of the bread as something sacred.

Anyway, I am presently hidden by this display as the sweet smells waft up my nostrils, watching my mother being served by someone who happens to make getting out of bed at eight in the morning and walking around with sore arms from carrying masses of shopping bags, okay...very okay. This someone also happens to be an attractive guy who happens to work at the counter. Evidently, I have a teeny, little crush on him, I just can't seem to walk up to the counter with my mother because he's there and when he's there, I start going red and gaining weird jittery feelings in my stomach, therefore explaining my need to hide.

My legs burn from squatting for long but I guess being stealthy has its negatives. My mother continues to happily chat with my crush as I grit my teeth in pain and I'm glad when my mother receives her bread and she says goodbye as I no longer have to squat awkwardly as I dash out the bakery, my mother scolding me to be careful with the shopping from behind me.

I am quite content with not making a fool of myself and admiring Mr-Attractive-Guy-At-The-Counter from afar since I look a mess every morning and I'm sure if I did speak to him, he would treat me like a normal customer and smile at me with his amazing smile which would ultimately dismiss me as a love interest straight away. And this is if I even had the ability to speak to him.

This is my life and I'm perfectly fine with it.

~Next Saturday~

This morning, I am prepared. I woke up a full half an hour before eight in order to make myself look somewhat presentable and ladies and gentlemen, I have done it. I think. Instead of leaving the house looking like a raccoon which just spent the whole night diving in and out of dustbins, I managed to tame my wild blonde locks into a sort of braid before shimmying into a decent pair of jeans and a sweater. Due to the cold weather of winter and it being England, I wrapped myself in a scarf and grabbed a pair of gloves before heading downstairs to meet my mother. Only to find that there was no one downstairs, apart from Chapstick - my fat, lazy cat who has made the sofa's armrest his home.

I frown because mother would usually be up way before me to prepare breakfast for me, father and my stinky older brother, Joel.

"Mum?" I call out hesitantly.

"Oh you're up rather early, aren't you Orchid?" I spin on my heel at my father's voice. His face looks tired but a smile graces it nonetheless,

"Dad? What's wrong?" My voice takes on a worried tone, to which my father's face softens to,

"Don't worry sweetie, your mother has caught a cold and is still upstairs, but it isn't anything grave,"

"Then why do you look so exhausted?" I question, he sighs,