How To Bake A Cake

For the Foodies

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Wherever you are, whomever you’re with, be messy.

***

I do not have nerves of steel. My hand shakes as I prepare to knock on Jasper’s apartment door. Anxiety coats me like a thin blanket and my palms go sweaty, making me far more klutzy than usual. Attempting to hold my paper bag filled with baking supplies, along with my purse—a task most people would have no issue with—is not working, and I drop everything at my feet.

“Crap!” I heard something crack. Must’ve been the eggs. Hopefully not all of them.

The door opens as I’m bending down—I fear at the oddest, most unattractive angle imaginable—and I’m momentarily blinded by the contrast of bright apartment to dark, gloomy hallway.

“Hey, Betty.”

I laugh in my awkward way, trying to collect my mess while looking up at Jasper. I swear it’s right out of the movies: the girl’s gorgeous crush appears, surrounded by golden sun rays, majestic presence, and perfect hair. I can even hear the angel’s Ahhhh in their Acapella chorus.

Why me?

Because I’m the underdog. Pitiful and goofy. Who never gets the guy. The universe more often than not gives me the big: Give up, girlie!

“Need some help?”

Jasper’s smile directed my way makes me feel like a deer in headlights. His full lips thin, the corners of his mouth stretch upward, and the collected effect reaches his eyes. I imagine I could fall into them, which is probably why I can’t...