I smile, thumbs flying.
Me:I’m in. I’ll bring dessert from Sugar Rush. No baking attempts from me, I swear.
Bella:Bless you ??
Another text pops up immediately:
Bella:Blade’s coming, Bri… try not to drool this time ??
My face goes hot. Blade with his stupid smirk and infuriating habit of treating me like I’m some kid sister he has to babysit. The girls love teasing me about him, mostly because they know they’re right. I’m hopelessly, embarrassingly into the guy. But I’ll die before I admit it.
Me:Shut up. ??
Brooke:She’s bright red right now, guaranteed.
Bella:100%.
Me:I seriously hate you both.
A few hours later, I finally finish tweaking the logo that’s been driving me insane all morning. One more adjustment to the color palette, one last pass on the shadowing, and it’s finally done. I attach the files, hitsend, and slump back in my chair with a sigh.
Email sent: Final files attached. Thank you for your business.
Translation,Please never ask me to make your “fun but professional” llama mascot any brighter.
I rub my temples and glance at the clock. It’s almost two. My coffee’s gone cold, my stomach’s been growling for the last hour, and I’m one more revision away from losing my mind. Time for a break.
I grab my keys, shut down my laptop, and ten minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot of Sugar Rush. The second I step inside, the smell of coffee, chocolate, and warm sugar wraps around me like a cozy hug.
Ansley, my best friend since forever and the owner of Sugar Rush, stands behind the counter, brow pinched as she listens to a customer complain. The woman’s older, her lips pursed into a tight frown as she points accusingly at a half-eaten cupcake.
“—and honestly, I just feel it wasn’tmoistenough,” the woman says, pronouncingmoistlike it’s the most offensive word in the English language.
“I’m very sorry,” Ansley says evenly, though I can see the murderous gleam in her eyes. “If you’d like, I can get you another—”
“No,” the woman interrupts. “I’ve already wasted enough of mymoneyand time.” She turns on her heel and storms out, the bell above the door jingling in protest.
Ansley throws her head back with a groan. “I swear to God, Bri, one day I’m gonna snap and throw a whole cupcake right into someone’s face.”
I laugh so hard I almost snort. “Please text me first so I can livestream it.”
She narrows her eyes at me, grabbing a towel to wipe the counter a little too aggressively. “You’re the worst.”
I shrug. “You love me anyway.”
“Unfortunately,” she mutters, though the corner of her mouth betrays her with a smile. She tosses the towel aside and plants both hands on the counter. “What brings you here?”
“Can’t it just be that I want to see my best friend?” I smile sweetly.
She lifts one of her perfectly sculpted brows. “You? Never. Sugar is your middle name.”
I lean against the glass case, pretending to study the rows of perfect cupcakes and cookies gleaming under the lights. “You joke, but it’s a serious condition. I have a family dinner at Bella’s tonight. I told them I’d bring the sweets. I would have baked something myself, but figured I’d drop by and keep you in business a little longer.” I laugh.
Ansley arches a brow. “Right. Like there’s anyone on Earth who believes you can bake.”
“Excuse you, I baked cookies once.”
“Yeah,” she says dryly, pulling open the pastry case, “in tenth-grade Home Ec—right before you nearly burned down the school.”
