I sleep for shit that night. Images of Reese’s orgasmic face keep entering my thoughts, while I try to focus on anything but him. It’s a useless act. No matter what thoughts enter my mind, whether it’s searching my brain for what exactly is in a tart, or the anniversary cake consultation I have Tuesday morning, his beautiful face pops in uninvited. Tossing in my bed and now completely drenched in sweat, I sit up and glance at my alarm clock. Three fifteen a.m. Jesus, I have to be up in less than two hours for my run and haven’t slept a wink. I slam back on my pillow. This can’t happen. I cannot let some hook up affect me like this. I’m never going to get a good night’s sleep. You can forget about my morning runs with Joey and functioning properly in the shop. I’ll lose my business and everything I’ve worked so hard for. No. Fuck this. Hopping out of bed, I throw myself into a freezing cold shower and jolt myself even more awake. Sleep is for the weak. There’s no way I’m getting any tonight, so I might as well bake. After dressing, I grab my phone and descend the stairs two at a time.
I know exactly what I’m going to make. It’s what I always make when I can’t sleep or need a distraction. My mocha cupcakes with espresso butter cream frosting. The perfect combination of caffeine and chocolate, both of which I could consume in massive quantities right now. I open my tattered recipe book and thumb through it until I stop on the familiar handwriting. It’s a recipe of my grandmother’s that she used to make when I was a little girl, stumbling clumsily around her kitchen as she baked all day long. She made them weekly and always let me help her, my big brown eyes watching her with complete awe as she cracked her eggs with one hand and never needed a measuring spoon because “A real cook will always trust her taste buds over anything else.” My mother hated when she would make this recipe with me because I would consume them in mass quantities and be on an insane sugar and caffeine high for hours. My crash would be swift and hard, usually resulting in me passing out in the middle of the living room floor. I always think of my grandmother when I make these. She passed away ten years ago and it makes me sad to think she will never get to see her influence on me now. After pulling together all of my ingredients and starting the coffee maker, I create a group text message with Juls and Joey.
Me: Just so you are both aware, its 3:30a.m. and I am making my mocha cupcakes. Yes, you read that correctly and yes, it’s because I haven’t slept at all. Don’t bother asking me to go for a run, Joey. That ship has sailed.
Once the coffee is brewed, I mix in the espresso powder and set it aside to cool while I whip up the remaining ingredients. The smell alone perks me up a bit and I’m not feeling like a completely pathetic, sleep-deprived loser anymore. This is what I know. Baking. I’m good at it and I can practically do it in my sleep. Which I guess right now is ironic considering my current zombie-like state. My mind begins to drift as I whip the batter, watching the electric beaters mix the eggs and sugars. I wonder if Reese likes mocha cupcakes? Or maybe he’s a cookie guy. Shit. I turn the mixer off and put my bowl onto the counter as I rub my eyes. Focus, Dylan. You could lose a fucking finger. I combine the egg mixture with my batter and whip it quickly before dividing the batter evenly into my cupcake liners. After I shove the trays into the oven, I get to work on the icing.
The icing is made of espresso powder, vanilla, butter, and powdered sugar. It’s ridiculously sweet, and one of my favorites. I could live off this stuff if I had to. Because really, is there anything better than icing? Sex with Reese, his lips, his hands touching me, his sounds...