“You wouldn’t dare.” Her hands tremble and voice wavers with a mixture of disbelief and anger.
“Try me, Jenna.” I lift my eyebrows before putting my sunglasses back on. I stare at her a second, let her know I’m not fucking around, and then leave without saying another word.
Fuck, that felt good.
SIX DAYS LEFT
FACEBOOK
Hey @SweetChks . . . Just giving you back all of the things I stole from you over the years . . . Whatever could I mean? #GrudgeCupcakes #10Days
1. Chocolate Chip Cookies
I look at the humungous box of chocolate chip cookies recently delivered to the bakery. And not just any kind of chocolate chip cookies—Chips Ahoy to be exact. Between the play on his nickname for me and the memory of how he’d steal my cookies after school, the gift makes me smile. The thoughtfulness behind it warms every part of me.
And frustrates me considering he won’t answer my call to say thank you. The only response? A text saying six more days. Agh.
Feeling more sure of myself today, I venture into the front of the bakery behind the counter. The talking ceases momentarily until the customers realize how noticeable it is and then start chatting loudly again as if that’s not obvious either.
I talk over the week’s astounding sales numbers with DeeDee as the photographers outside aim their lenses through the window. No doubt they’re grateful they can actually see me after sitting out there for days bored to tears. I certainly have the advantage of living and working in the same building so there is no guaranteed drive to work like most other people they stalk.
I rearrange the display case, wanting to keep my hands busy as I try to get used to the feeling of being watched. It’s almost as if they think I’m going to suddenly break down and confess to all of the horrible things their magazines say I did.
Hey @SweetChks . . . Just giving you back all of the things I stole from you over the years . . . Whatever could I mean? #GrudgeCupcakes #10Days
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Kisses
The delivery boy catches me off guard when he walks in the front door. At first I’m about to tell him to leave, mistaking him for a paparazzo acting as a delivery man just to get in the store somehow (silly, I know but I’m a bit paranoid with forty-plus pairs of eyes watching my every move), but then realize the package in his hand isn’t a camera bag.
I watch as he leaves, how the paparazzi go crazy clicking pictures as if he’s the secret messenger between Hayes and me. And when I open the package, I realize he is.
When I look inside the box, there is a cardboard partition that divides the box in half. One side is filled to the top with so many Hershey kisses I’m overwhelmed with the smell of chocolate. And the other side is empty save for a note taped to its bottom.
The box is half empty. I need the space because I plan on stealing a lot more in the future. -XO Hayes
My heart skips over a beat and a smile graces my lips as I do what any normal person would do. I pick one of them up, unwrap it, and eat it while I watch the photographers mill around outside. A thought forms but I shove it away. Disregard it.
But as I venture into the retail front and wipe down a few tables, see some of the tabloid magazines with my image on the cover left there, and overhear conversations about bragging rights over who got the most for each photo, I start to think my idea isn’t a half bad one.
“Dee, I’m heading back into the kitchen for a bit.”
And of course when I get to my workstation, there is another box. Another returned item from Hayes. And this time I know DeeDee or Ryder had to have helped him but I love that he went to this much trouble.
Hey @SweetChks . . . Just giving you back all of the things I stole from you over the years . . . Whatever could I mean? #GrudgeCupcakes #10 Days
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Kisses
Time
I open the box to find an hourglass inside. My fingers reach out to touch it. I’m overwhelmed by the effort he’s put into these ten days so far.
I turn it over and watch the sand slide through the glass. Hypnotized by the sight, my thoughts drift. To how easily time passes. To Hayes. To not wanting to waste any more of it when it comes to being with him. Life is too short. When the sand runs out, the completed grudge cupcakes are visible through the curve of the empty glass.
Stop wasting time, Saylor.
I laugh out loud as pieces click into place for me. The paparazzi. They’re using me to make money. To sell the image they want of me. Why can’t I use them for the exact same thing?
Inspired, I grab my set of perfectly decorated grudge cupcakes and I waltz out of the kitchen, through the front of the bakery, and out the glass front door for the first time since I came home from my trip.