chapter 3

“CYAN, SMILING SWEETLY. Who’s the lucky girl?” Mitch, our 55-year old boss, commented while taking out a tray of vanilla cupcakes in the oven. 

We have come here to prepare twenty-five boxes of assorted cupcakes for a birthday party. 

It is a small cupcake and pastry shop, having enough space for ten customers who can sit in. And what’s more beautiful about this, the ambiance is classical; the enclosure is made from aesthetical European glass. Moreover, people can occupy the neo-elliptical tables and metallic orbital chairs for their favor. 

After doing the same job for ten months as an online seller of phones, I decided to strike out to earn more money as a baker man and sometimes a crew to serve orders. 

“As sweet as cupcakes,” I replied, giggling while taking off my neoprene gloves. Afterwards, I stripped down to my hair net and stacked up the boxes. 

She sniggered and placed the tray on the acrylic surface table. “Steer clear of my question? C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with it. I might give you some free time to go out with her,” she rejoiced. 

“How to get rid of that kind of question, by the way? It sucks,” I ridiculed and caught a glance of her.  

If only I could tell her that it must be ‘he’ the reason why I feel cloud nine these past hours. 

My full-day duty is on the weekends, while my three-hour duty is on the weekdays; four to seven. 

“Take a box of cupcakes in the fridge. Free of charge. Surely, it’ll make your love happy.” She treaded towards me and patted my back. “Hope all things will turn out fine!” 

“Thank you for not letting me down, Mitch. You’re great.”

She plastered a smile in her face and spoke, “You’re welcome.”

I SWANNED IN THE ROOM, watching Acherous plucking each string to tune his guitar. 

“Bro, speaking of which, have you already memorized the chords of ‘Quit Playing Games With My Heart’? It is something to be more actual and emotional since it was sung by the most respected band in the world,” I uttered and ambled to the fridge then brought out the cupcakes I believed he hasn’t noticed yet. Concurrently, he was napping when I got here an hour ago. 

“Kind of—wow!” He stood up and hurriedly ran towards me by seeing a baby blue box of cupcake with my hands. 

“Oops—oops…” I mimicked to stop him by moving my left hand forward. “Bro, this is not for you.” 

He jutted out his bottom lip and blinked so countless times. He slouched and turned his back. 

I laughed secretly and quickly punched his right arm. “Immature, bro,” I teased and examined his face after positioning myself in front of him. 

He smirked. “Will you give me now cupcakes?” he questioned, grinning from ear to ear while rubbing his hands together. 

“Bro, you wish. Just a portion of the cupcake,” I poked fun of him and crossed the room in only a few strides before heading to the couch.  

“I couldn’t believe in you, bro. I know you wouldn’t fend off sharing with me more cupcakes,” he assumed and snickered. “Yielding to kindness, bro,” he added and followed the walk. 

Thereafter, we sat next to each other and he suddenly bugged out, staring at the ten cupcakes after I removed the covering. 

“Wow, hitting it off with these cupcakes. Looks delicious,” he complimented and licked his lips. 

“Thanks. Sheila and I baked these.” I flicked through him and took the mocha flavored cupcake. 

“May I have one, bro?” 

“Just one?” I ridiculed and came the box closer to him. 

“Just… one,” he replied uncertainly. “Apparently, this may be added some lusciousness if associated with soju,” he suggested. 

I threw my head back and the tips of my fingers steepling.  I returned my head to usual position and waggled my eyebrows while beaming. “Awesome idea.”

“Whoa!” he yelled and pumped right fist in air. He actively rose and nipped to the fridge to get the soju we bought last week. 

When he went back with two soju on both hands, he levelled off his seat and swirled the bottle around creating a whirlpool inside. Next, he slammed the bottom of the bottle and applied the webbed area between his middle and index finger to intensely jab the neck of the bottle. He twisted off the cap, splashing a little amount of soju. 

We burst out laughing and slammed each other’s palm. He handed me over a bottle which I got it at once. 

“Since we will get drunk, I toyed over the idea of playing a game,” he proposed. 

Making eye contact with him, my eyebrows drew and my lips pressed together. I threaded my hands through my hair and rested my right elbow against the backrest. 

“Are you in?” he asked. 

“What game is that? See to it that it won’t harm us,” I warned. 

“Be in no doubt, bro,” he assured and gave me a smothered laugh. 

“Okay, then.”

He walked me through the means and policy of the game. It is called as Fact-or-Consequence. When it’s my turn to ask, he must be telling me the fact; otherwise, do the consequence given by the digital spinning wheel we have downloaded just by now. Many to mention consequences that drive me to answer the question without hesitation. 

“Are you ready?” he asked after taking a quick gulp of his drink and bit a big portion of the cupcake. 

“Bro, no need to ask. I have no other option as if I could pull back from this game,” I answered and sat cross-legged on the couch. 

He sniggered and reached in his side pocket then pulled out a coin. “You plump for either head or tail. Whatever shows when it lands will be the one to ask first.”

“Tail,” I answered and relaxed my fist against my jaw; elbow rested near my knee. 

“Got it.” He stared at me for a couple of seconds. 

At this point, my heart pounded out of my chest, spine-tingling and I looked away due to his electrifying gaze on me. 

I should’ve get used to his eyes. For goodness sake, we’re living under the same roof for months and I even saw his naked body. 

I hemmed once before sighing. I eyed on him and nodded. “Let’s begin.”

Thereafter, he tossed the coin in the air and stretched his right palm to catch it. 

We both glanced at the coin and he abruptly giggled then held his chin too high. 

“Cocky. Get on,” I slurred. 

He positioned himself to face me directly and loosened up his collar. “First question: Describe me in one word.”

I straightaway hit him in the head and my forehead puckered. 

“What?” he whined. 

“Silly. You said, question. What you told me a while was imperative, in fact,” I snapped. 

He pursed his lips playfully. “Just describe me.”

“Bro, so gay,” I commented. 

He snickered and raked his hair. “Okay, I surrender. Let me make my first question into: Do you have a present girlfriend?” Seriousness was drawn into his face and he reclined his elbows against the armrest. 

“Nothing at all,” I simply answered. 

“In the past?” he next questioned.

“My turn,” I emphasized. “How many girlfriends did you have already?” 

“I had two.” He grabbed his bottle and swallowed down the soju with a gulp. “Next, how many times have you jacked off in a week?” 

I was caught off guard and confusedly looked him in the eye. “Bro, come off it,” I uttered unbelievably.  

“Well, you have been blown. But I am deadly serious.” He plastered a half smile in his face and licked his lips. 

“Heck! Consequence,” I chose. 

He burst into laughter and reached his phone on the table. “So, I’ll spin the wheel.”

Once he pressed the spin button, I started to feel unease. 

After a few seconds, he grinned widely and held out a hand; hence, I looked at it only to find out that the peak came to an end at… ‘Lick a coated butter below one’s navel’. 

“The heck!” I exclaimed.  

“Okay… since we don’t have a butter, let’s apply a peach jam instead.” He immediately stood up and pranced—there’s no other way to describe it—towards our small open-space kitchen. As he went back, he’s already carrying along with the bottle of jam and a spoon. 

“Bro, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I wished tremulously. 

“Of course not.” He took his seat and got half-naked. 

“Bro, we’re both men,” I reasoned out. 

“No malice, bro. Besides, it’s below the navel, not exactly on my dick, bro,” he argued, chuckling, then stretched his arms. “Move a bit. I’m going to lay down,” he commanded. 

“Dusty doughnuts! Bro…” I shook my head beyond my belief. 

He couldn’t wait for me to switch my position, as soon as he laid down, I am between his legs, thereon. 

No wonder he really has so much followers on social media because of his sturdy chest and buffy, defined abdomen… also facial features. 

Afterwards, he slued the cap of the jam and scooped a little amount of jam and coated it at the surface below his navel. As much as possible, he prevented to spread the jam on the white garter of his underwear. 

“Do the consequence,” he mumbled after doing all. 

I tilted my head sideward, still viewing him. 

Suddenly, his phone rang that made him hiss. He looked at the screen of it and his eyebrows arched with fear. Then, he heaved a deep sigh. “What the f*ck!” He sat up and subconsciously fell his phone on the floor. Then, he pressed his palms across his face. 

“What happens?” I asked with empathy. 

“My younger sister was taken into the hospital. Currently, the doctors are drilling down through the detailed data to know her sick. Tentatively, it’s said to be severe that… scientists and medical technologists haven’t found yet a cure.”

“Bro, I’m sorry. I believe everything’s going to be alright. Put your trust in Almighty Lord. He can help you,” I soothed and advised him. Then, I tapped him on the back. 

“Thanks, bro. You’re always here any minute when I needed someone.” He let out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “Excuse me. I’m going to clean off and up my body. I should leave. Maricris needs me."