Page 6 of Semi Sweet (Working For Love #1)

"I f Evan is so rich, why bother working? You could be a housewife. Maybe let him knock you up so that someone else can have a courtesy desk shift once in a while."

It was nearly a week after the Diamond Walk, and one of the many front end girls that covered my breaks was over by the door, giving me a hard time.

Her name was Ariana. She wasn't the worst in the grand scheme of things.

She was more notorious for her sarcasm, not so much for blatant gossip or shunning.

"It's the twenty-first century," I replied coolly. "I don't want to be home cooking and cleaning all day."

I probably could have added that I really had no interest in having children with someone who only seemed to tolerate me most of the time, but I figured it wasn't worth making that point.

I wasn't really sure if it was because I'd only had one boyfriend in my twenty-four years of life or if it was the state of my relationship, but sex wasn't really something that excited me. I didn't feel like sharing that either.

"Whatever floats your boat," Ariana said as I let her in. "I'm here for your fifteen. I'd tell you to take longer so I can enjoy myself, but Russel will probably get pissed at us both."

I thanked her and headed towards the café, craving some of the pizza shop's mozzarella sticks, when a voice called to me.

Charlie, the assistant bakery manager that had been singing his new manager's praises, was flagging me over.

I wondered if he had a question for Evan or something when I noticed him pick up a box off the paid shelf.

"I noticed it when I came in this morning," the man said, pleased with himself. "It's paid for, so you might as well take it." He pushed it across the counter towards me.

"Thank you, but I didn't order this."

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe someone ordered it for you, then. Perhaps your fiancé?"

I nearly snorted. "That's doubtful."

Evan hadn't been romantic since we were teenagers. Back then, he'd been all about chivalrous gestures like holding doors and leaving me thoughtful little gifts, but that ended ages ago.

I smiled at Charlie anyway. He was clearly caught in the middle and wouldn't have known. "Well, thanks. I guess I'll take it."

Charlie went to the back room and I was alone. I decided to open the box right there at the counter. A part of me wondered if someone was messing with me, though this seemed too kind. A diamond in the rough was a good thing, right? I ripped the label and lifted the lid.

"Okay, this is adorable," I proclaimed aloud.

The cupcake was decorated to look like Cookie Monster, complete with bright blue frosting and edible googly eyes. If that wasn't cute enough, the cupcake version of the Muppet had an actual piece of chocolate chip cookie in its mouth. It was so intricate, I almost felt like I shouldn't eat it.

"That's weird." A voice broke me from my reverie. It was Sean who had walked by to put a sheet cake into the display case. He stood on the other side of the counter, peering down into the box. "We don't sell that kind of cupcake here."

I stared at him and stammered, "You...you don't?"

Sean shook his head. "I mean, if Gio or one of the other Quitteros wanted a special order, I'd do something similar, but definitely not just one."

I wasn't sure why, but I was almost disappointed to hear this. I felt like if I didn't take a picture of the sweet treat, it wouldn't actually exist, meaning the whole thing was just a figment of my imagination.

When I turned to ask him about it, he was already gone, so I took the box to my usual spot.

It was going to be too late to buy anything else at this point, so I snapped a photo of the cupcake and decided I had no choice but to at least take a taste.

I had to remind myself that I was at work because I nearly moaned out loud as moist cake hit my taste buds.

It was too good to have been made in a giant batch.

Just like the last time, someone had left behind a note. This time it was a color photo of Cookie Monster with white box print around the borders, a meme. The puppet was holding a pink paper heart.

I'd share my last cookie with you.

"Um...what?" I looked around the room to see if anyone was watching me, or more likely, if someone was laughing. My face burned like it had when Grandma Benedetta made me walk around the store for the Diamond Walk, but I wasn't humiliated this time. Was someone coming on to me?

I shook the thought from my mind. Everyone at Cash Value Market hated me. There was no way anyone could be interested in me, and even if by the most miniscule chance they were, the person was insane.

No one messed with a Quittero. It would be career suicide.

***

That night in my finance class, I took notes and made a new page on a popular social media site.

My personal account was pretty dead; I used to have pictures of my sisters, the family cat, and Evan back when he had time for fun.

Now it was the occasional outfit of the day or my takeout, but most of my personality was gone.

I'd named the new page Semi Sweet . The tagline was a sweet break from my otherwise bitter life.

It was a cliché, but a perfect way to showcase the cupcakes I'd gotten.

Even if no one else liked or commented on the photos, it was almost like a photo album, a memento of something that had briefly brought me happiness.

Even if I didn't get another one, I smiled as I captioned the photos and put in hashtags so people could stumble upon them.

I chuckled, my marketing and promotional strategies already at work.

I had to believe I'd be a successful author if I was given a chance.

I was a hundred times more invested in my writing than this tiny cupcake project. Or at least that's what I thought.

When my class was over, I found myself wandering the campus in the dark until I was outside the English building. I'd gone to the University of Colorado for my undergrad and had been well acquainted with their English building. Here at Denver, it was uncharted territory.

I walked around quietly, scanning the walls for the various posters and announcements. There were flyers for a poetry slam and a study abroad opportunity where candidates would teach English as a second language. Then my eyes fell on something that made my heart swell with excitement.

ASPIRING AUTHOR? LOOKING TO GET INTO THE PUBLISHING INDUSTRY?

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN PRESS IS LOOKING FOR INTERNS.

BE AN EDITORIAL ASSISTANT!

HAVE A HAND IN MAKING A WRITER'S DREAM A REALITY.

PAID INTERNSHIPS IN DENVER AND ASPEN.

The deadline to apply was a few days away.

I snapped a photo with my phone before opening up my text messages.

Just got assigned a group project, I texted Evan.

I'll be home a little late. It was a lie, but bending the truth was how I avoided arguments and it would be easier to fill out the application at the library than secretly in our townhouse.

The library was nearly empty when I sat down and took out my laptop.

I didn't often believe in destiny, but I certainly felt lucky that I'd taken my mini adventure and saw the poster.

This was exactly what I needed. A paid internship could turn into a job.

I could be working in the industry I dreamed of while fine tuning my craft.

I could finally leave Cash Value Market behind.

I found myself scowling as I stared at the application screen.

Except I couldn't leave it all behind. Not completely.

Evan would still work for the company. I would still be surrounded by Quitteros.

I also had a feeling that Evan would fight me tooth and nail about not joining him in corporate.

He had to be open to it if I got paid, right?

But it wasn't like we were really dependent on my paycheck.

I heaved a sigh. I was planning my future and I hadn't even started the application yet. I began to type.

"Well, here goes nothing."