Cupcakes at Midnight

Chapter 3

It takes a few hours for the smile to leave my face, which is a real bitch because reality is going to smack me on Monday morning. But it's Sunday, and fuck it all, I'm sleeping in.

Cat definitely has other thoughts, though, head-butting me far too early in the morning.

"Can't I just get five more minutes, buddy?"

He meows, letting me know that no, I cannot have five more minutes. If I'm lucky, he won't eat my face in the next five seconds.

I mutter, calling him some choice names, and fill his dish. When I get back to my bed, my eyes are open and my brain is running. I pick up my phone and turn off quiet mode first. The next thing I do, of course, is to check my texts. Sure enough, Ivy and Matt are fighting again (it was only a matter of time), but there's also one from Ava. I consider leaving it to read later, but no one actually has that kind of patience.

Good morning

The text is timestamped in the 4am hour, which means Ava has had less than 5 hours of sleep. My guilt is monumental.

Good morning. :) I'd offer to bring you coffee, but I'm sure you have plenty...

At the suggestion, I realize that I am going to need copious amounts of caffeine to get through the day. I pad to the kitchen and decide to make a pot instead of a press. I can imagine that the bakery is bustling on a busy Sunday morning, so I try to temper my expectations about a reply.

It takes a few hours, but I finally get a reply.

So much coffee here. But you know what I don't have? Good company.

I smirk.

She thinks I'm good company.

You off soon? You could come by? Home-cooked meal in it for you.

Well, now I've made a potential promise; I should probably figure out what the fuck I'm going to cook. I look in my pantry, trying to figure something out. My phone dings in my back pocket, and I smile even before I look at it.

That sounds amazing. I'm so busy, I can't remember the last time I had real food cooked by another human. OK if we eat early?

We trade texts, I figure out she has no allergies, and that she's going to arrive basically any minute. Under the gun, I go with a baked pasta, because it's fairly easy, there's a lot of cheese, and who doesn't love carbs.

The casserole was in the oven when the doorbell rang, and Cat was first to the door.

"I know, buddy," I say, smiling and gently nudging him to the side. "I like her, too."

Ava is wearing a plain white tee shirt and baggy pants, her hair is a crazy mop on her hair, and I can't wait for her to be inside my house.

"Hey," she says, her eyes not looking the least bit as exhausted as I know she must feel. "I brought dessert."

Yes. Yes you did.

The thought makes me blush and I laugh to cover my nervousness. Once she's inside, she pulls me into her arms and I can't help but sniff her just a little. She's pure sugary goodness. I close my eyes and wonder if she tastes as sweet as she smells, then remind myself to calm the fuck down.

"Thanks, I was going to bring some ice cream out of the freezer, but this is way better. I'm not awesome at baking."

Ava smiles, the kind of smile that's withholding and flirty. She walks into my kitchen and to the cabinets, like she's been here a million times. "Bowls or plates?"