Excerpt from the Short Story - The Cupcake Incident

Excerpt from

The Cupcake Incident

After an awkward, but warm meeting with Chiara’s mom and brother, Peter and Chiara made their way to the kitchen to start their extra credit project.

He was impressed – though not surprised – to find everything laid out in an organized fashion.

“Wow,” he said. “You like to bake?”

“Well, yeah,” she answered with a shrug. “It’s such a simple way to make people happy. And this recipe is especially good for that.” She held her nose high. “It’s been passed down through the family for generations, perfected by my Great Aunt Johanna – God rest her soul. It’s guaranteed to bring sunshine and happiness to all who eat it,” she declared dramatically.

He flashed a sideways grin. “You have a lot of those, huh?”

“Of what?” she asked.

“Family recipes, handed down for generations?”

“Oh,” she considered it. “I guess we do. Tradition is important to us Marinos. And anyway, once you eat the cupcakes, you’ll totally see why,” she finished with a conspiratorial grin.

They set to work making the cupcakes and Peter had to concentrate to keep from paying too much attention to Chiara – studying her smile, her laugh, the way she mumbled to herself when she was in deep concentration.

Despite his efforts, he got just as distracted and clumsy as he usually did in Chemistry class. Eggs were dropped, flour was spilled, and batter was splattered, but at least, in this setting, their lives were not in danger.

“Should we start cleaning up?” he asked when the cupcakes were completed and their observations were recorded.

She waved her hand in the air. “No, no. No, no, no. I’ll take care of it after you leave.”

“No way,” he argued. “I can’t help make the mess and then not help clean it up. That would be bad karma.”

“Well, if it’s about karma,” she conceded, “then I guess I have to let you help.”

“Speaking of karma,” he said as he handed her the container of flour, “Mac said something about you guys doing a lot of – what did she call them? – sneaky acts of sunshine.”

Chiara placed the flour and sugar containers in the pantry as she said, “She was just exaggerating. We don’t do that much.”

He noticed a smudge of flour on the tip of her nose and became fixated on it. He had to check the impulse to reach over and wipe it away. His hand even lifted slightly before he stopped himself.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “It’s just that I’ve been looking for stuff to do,” he said as he collected the measuring cups and spoons and placed them in the sink. “Back in Eastville, I used to do community service and stuff.”

She spun to face him with a light in her eyes. “Oh! There’s tons to do,” she said. “You can help at the Food Bank. There’s a children’s home and a women’s shelter in town. They always need donations and help sorting. And I do a lot with my church.”

Peter lost himself studying her. Her enthusiasm and compassion were a breath of fresh air. And her smile was seriously lighting up the kitchen.

“See, I started doing service back in seventh grade because it’s a requirement for our Sacrament of Confirmation: you have to complete a certain number of hours helping other people.”

“So I help out at the church nursery every Sunday, watching the kids,” she continued. “There’s a homeless ministry that brings sandwiches to men and women downtown. And sometimes I make food for the sisters at the convent…”

Peter thought it was funny that she had said she didn’t do much, but she clearly did more than most people. She must have noticed his stare and his smirk, because she trailed off, seeming less than confident.

“Sorry,” she said in a softer tone. “I get a little overzealous. There’s more, but I’m probably boring you.”

“Not at all,” he said sincerely.

But she was silent as they started dishes, apparently embarrassed by her enthusiasm earlier. Peter tried to think of a way to convince her that she had no reason to worry.

He wanted to put her at ease, but all he could think to say was:

You’re amazing.

And he couldn’t say that. Yet. Or ever, maybe.

“Sorry about all the nonsense,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.

“What nonsense?” he asked.

She handed him the dish she had just finished washing as she said, “Just my embarrassing family.”

He distinctly remembered the incredibly mortifying story his mom had told his first girlfriend years ago and chuckled. Her family had done nothing embarrassing in comparison.

“Trust me,” he said, “they weren’t embarrassing. And your family is just as nice as you are.”

Chiara regarded him for a moment. “You are so different,” she said.

He looked at her with squinted eyes. “Is that bad or good?”

“Good,” she told him. “You always seem so calm and honest and nonjudgmental. It’s very refreshing.”

“Likewise,” he said, meeting her eyes and finding himself stuck as if he were under a spell. “I’m glad I met someone as cool as you.”

She laughed. A lighthearted sound that hit him like a warm breeze, relaxing him instantly.

“No one has ever used that word to describe me,” she said.

He was impressed by her humility, but he couldn’t understand how she didn’t see how amazing she was.

“Everyone has a different definition of ‘cool,’” he said, trying to focus on drying instead of the flour smudge that still resided on her nose. “One person uses it for someone who puts other people down, or writes depressing songs, or wears expensive clothes. And I’m using it for someone who spreads positivity everywhere she goes.”

Chiara stilled and stared at him.

He felt the awkwardness settle on his shoulders like a heavy blanket.

Aw geez, why did I say that? Was that too obvious? What am I saying? Of course it was too obvious.

“Hold up. That was weird, wasn’t it?” he asked, trying to play it off as normal.

“No, no. No, no, no,” she said with a shake of her head.

“You call it honest, but I think it’s just that I’m socially awkward.”

She laughed. “You, too? You wouldn’t be friends with me if you weren’t. I tend to attract people who are sincere but awkward.”

He became distracted once again by the flour on her nose. It was strange how it made her somehow even more attractive. He forced himself to focus on the dishes before he could embarrass himself. Again.

But he found that he had more control over his eyes than he did his mouth.

“You definitely attracted me,” he commented absent-mindedly. Then he snapped his head up and added, “Uh, I mean friend-attracted, not attracted-attracted.”

He nearly groaned at himself. This was not going the way he wanted it to go. If he continued making mistakes like this, she would realize just how socially awkward he really was.