Every single thing about Lilly Jackson is fucking perfect.
“Use the sieve.” Chase jolts me from my thoughts, as I wing it and pour the flour into the bowl.
“What the fuck is a sieve?” I give him a confused look.
“That thing there.” He sighs, pointing in front of us, but there’s so much on the kitchen counter that I’m still confused about what a sieve is.
It’s Lilly’s birthday tomorrow and I wanted to make it extra special by baking a cake for her, after all, it’s her twenty first.
Rookie move for someone who doesn’t know how to cook, let alone bake. But for her, I’ll learn to do anything.
I’d been subtle in asking her over the winter break what her favorite cake flavor was, all while trying to keep my plan a secret. I had to get creative with my questions, casually slipping them into conversations and hoping she wouldn’t catch on.
It wasn’t an easy task, let me say that, because keeping secrets from Lilly felt almost impossible, especially when all I wanted to do was share every detail of my day with her.
I know it would’ve been easier to order a cake from the local bakery, or even go to the grocery store to pick one up, but I wanted her to know how much she meant to me, and I figured the best way of showcasing that was to bake a cake myself…with the help of Chase of course.
You know that saying, something like “third times a charm” well, that’s complete bullshit. I messed up cake one, two, and three, and now I’m praying the fourth one goes to plan. Each attempt has been a disaster in its own unique way—burnt edges, sunken centers, and one even somehow ended up tasting like cardboard. How the fuck does that even happen?
Even though I enlisted Chase to help me, I’m stubborn, and I wanted to do the steps myself. He was merely here for background noise…as in telling me how much ingredients I needed, and what to do. Other than that, I didn’t want him to physically help.
Which of course I regretted after the first cake disaster, but as I said, I’m stubborn and didn’t want him to rub it in my face and say “told you so” when I’ve declined his help several times already.
He’s all decked out wearing his “daddy chef” apron the guys and I had jokingly gotten him thinking he’d never wear it, but he surprised us by wearing it anytime he cooks or bakes. And I’m just in a plain white one we had hanging up in the pantry.
“Greyson, how do you not know how to crack a fucking egg?” Chase hisses, running a hand through his brown hair that he’s decided to grow out. He’s unsure of it, but I like the little pieces of hair that curl around his nape.
I can’t exactly count how many eggs we’ve gone through, too many. But it’s not my fault when I crack them the shells fall into the flour, or the egg goes all over the counter.
“It’s not my fault the egg keeps getting in the mixture.” Okay, it’s totally my fault.
Gripping the bowl of flour in my hand, I peer over looking at the eggshells in there…minus the egg. How the fuck I managed to do that, I’ll never know.
“What on earth is going on in here?” Hunter’s voice cuts through the air, making me jump.
My arm shoots up, the bowl flies into the air, and the next thing I know, I'm covered in flour and eggshells.
“What the fuck, Hunter!” I glare at him, trying my hardest not to choke on the flour.
“Hey, don’t blame me for that.” He chuckles, gesturing toward me and the mess.
Don’t blame him? He’s the one who came in here unannounced and scared the shit out of me, making me jump and throw the flour in the air, therefore,he’sthe one to blame.
I look like Casper the fucking ghost.
Just a shame I can’t float in the air, that’d be pretty awesome.
“You’re the one who came in here and scared the shit out of me!” I shout, trying to dust the flour off my face.
“Not my fault you scare easily,” he shrugs. “What are you even doing? I’ve never seen you voluntarily be in the kitchen.”
Not far from the truth. Unless it’s making Lilly a coffee or getting popcorn for her, the only other time I come in here is to annoy Chase.
“He’s attemptingandfailing to bake Lilly a birthday cake.” Chase folds his arms across his chest as he leans his hip against the counter.
“You’re what?” Hunter raises an amused brow.
“It’s her birthday tomorrow, and I wanted to bake her a cake.” I shrug nonchalantly.
