week avoiding Jett and now he’s right outside the door. What if he decides to come inside and introduce me to his date? Ugh.
“So . . .,” I say. “Sprinkles?”
She turns back to the cabinet and starts taking out jars and bottles. “Here ya go,” she says, sliding four containers of sprinkles across the counter to me.
“Whoa, Mrs. Adams, you’re a sprinkle fan.”
“Yeah, I’m a little obsessed. Have you tried these silver ones? They look like real metal but they’re totally edible. I love them. Here, take them too.”
I take the jar of sprinkles that look like silver BBs. She’s pulled out star shaped sprinkles, little dots, stuff that looks like glitter, black and white, pink and purple . . . if it’s sold in the stores, I’m pretty sure she has it.
“Let me get you a bag for these,” she says, opening another door and pulling out a grocery bag. “Oh, and it’s Bayleigh. Don’t call me Mrs. Adams until I’m like, forty. And maybe not even then. I don’t want to be old.”
“Don’t worry, you don’t look old.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle. “Thanks, dear. You keep up those compliments. In fact, tell all of Jett’s friends to do the same thing. They’re always making fun of me.”
I don’t really have anything to say to that since I don’t plan on talking to Jett, like ever, for the rest of my life. So I focus on putting the sprinkles in the bag and then I thank her.
The walk from their house back to Becca’s seems to take a million years. Jett and his friend are still in the pool from the sound of the water moving around, but I make sure I keep my eyes forward and not on the pool.
Becca’s eyes light up when I show her the sprinkles. “Holy shit. Bayleigh is insane.”
“It does seem like an obscene amount of sprinkles for one household,” I say. The jar of silver sprinkles catches my attention. They are pretty cool.
Becca lines up the jars on her kitchen island, from smallest to largest. “Okay so, you’re probably wondering why I sent you on a sprinkle errand . . .”
I shrug. “You’re having a sugar craving?”
She points a finger at me. “Hell yes I am. I figured you could make some cupcakes with me, yeah?”
I nod and try to look enthusiastic about it. Becca’s been doing things like this all week. At first I thought she felt sorry for me and was trying to entertain me as if I were some little kid, but now I think she’s just genuinely a nice person.
“I always pictured having a cupcake making night if I ever had a daughter,” she says, her eyes far away as she daydreams about what hasn’t happened yet. “Park and I can’t have kids and I keep trying to accept the fact but it sucks, ya know?”
I stare at her.
“Well okay,” she says with a knowing nod. “I guess you wouldn’t know since you’re still a teen. Anyhow, thanks for hanging out with me.”
Now I’m starting to wonder if I feel as sorry for Becca as she feels for me. She’s a really nice lady and always seems genuinely interested in anything I have to say. Last night we’d spent hours in her studio while she painted and I watched. It was fun, if not a little awkward. Most of my stay here has been spent in my room, watching TV, but the few times we hang out I end up enjoying myself. Talking with Becca is the only time I’m not thinking about Jett.
Well okay. I’m always thinking about Jett.
Becca and I mix batter and pour cupcakes into every tray she has, making forty-eight in all. She has two ovens so we’re able to throw them all in there to bake at the same time. As the cupcakes cook, I help her clean up our mess.
“What are we going to do with all of these cupcakes?” I reach for another paper towel to wipe off my hands.
She gives me a sneaky grin. “Eat them, duh! We can rent a movie or something and have a girl’s night. I’ll make Park hang out in his man cave.”
“And what are we going to do with the other forty cupcakes?” I ask, laughing.
“We’ll give
“So . . .,” I say. “Sprinkles?”
She turns back to the cabinet and starts taking out jars and bottles. “Here ya go,” she says, sliding four containers of sprinkles across the counter to me.
“Whoa, Mrs. Adams, you’re a sprinkle fan.”
“Yeah, I’m a little obsessed. Have you tried these silver ones? They look like real metal but they’re totally edible. I love them. Here, take them too.”
I take the jar of sprinkles that look like silver BBs. She’s pulled out star shaped sprinkles, little dots, stuff that looks like glitter, black and white, pink and purple . . . if it’s sold in the stores, I’m pretty sure she has it.
“Let me get you a bag for these,” she says, opening another door and pulling out a grocery bag. “Oh, and it’s Bayleigh. Don’t call me Mrs. Adams until I’m like, forty. And maybe not even then. I don’t want to be old.”
“Don’t worry, you don’t look old.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle. “Thanks, dear. You keep up those compliments. In fact, tell all of Jett’s friends to do the same thing. They’re always making fun of me.”
I don’t really have anything to say to that since I don’t plan on talking to Jett, like ever, for the rest of my life. So I focus on putting the sprinkles in the bag and then I thank her.
The walk from their house back to Becca’s seems to take a million years. Jett and his friend are still in the pool from the sound of the water moving around, but I make sure I keep my eyes forward and not on the pool.
Becca’s eyes light up when I show her the sprinkles. “Holy shit. Bayleigh is insane.”
“It does seem like an obscene amount of sprinkles for one household,” I say. The jar of silver sprinkles catches my attention. They are pretty cool.
Becca lines up the jars on her kitchen island, from smallest to largest. “Okay so, you’re probably wondering why I sent you on a sprinkle errand . . .”
I shrug. “You’re having a sugar craving?”
She points a finger at me. “Hell yes I am. I figured you could make some cupcakes with me, yeah?”
I nod and try to look enthusiastic about it. Becca’s been doing things like this all week. At first I thought she felt sorry for me and was trying to entertain me as if I were some little kid, but now I think she’s just genuinely a nice person.
“I always pictured having a cupcake making night if I ever had a daughter,” she says, her eyes far away as she daydreams about what hasn’t happened yet. “Park and I can’t have kids and I keep trying to accept the fact but it sucks, ya know?”
I stare at her.
“Well okay,” she says with a knowing nod. “I guess you wouldn’t know since you’re still a teen. Anyhow, thanks for hanging out with me.”
Now I’m starting to wonder if I feel as sorry for Becca as she feels for me. She’s a really nice lady and always seems genuinely interested in anything I have to say. Last night we’d spent hours in her studio while she painted and I watched. It was fun, if not a little awkward. Most of my stay here has been spent in my room, watching TV, but the few times we hang out I end up enjoying myself. Talking with Becca is the only time I’m not thinking about Jett.
Well okay. I’m always thinking about Jett.
Becca and I mix batter and pour cupcakes into every tray she has, making forty-eight in all. She has two ovens so we’re able to throw them all in there to bake at the same time. As the cupcakes cook, I help her clean up our mess.
“What are we going to do with all of these cupcakes?” I reach for another paper towel to wipe off my hands.
She gives me a sneaky grin. “Eat them, duh! We can rent a movie or something and have a girl’s night. I’ll make Park hang out in his man cave.”
“And what are we going to do with the other forty cupcakes?” I ask, laughing.
“We’ll give
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