by Ana Ashley
Plastering my innocent smile, I said, “I’m dressing the window, can’t you see?”
His eyes roamed my body from bottom to top; when they locked on mine I felt as though Wren had his hands on me, for how intense his gaze was.
“I can see.”
My cock hardened in my jeans; it was equal measures of pain and pleasure. I wanted to see if I was having the same effect on Wren as he had on me, but I didn’t dare move my eyes away from his.
How was he turning the tables on me with one single look when I’d spent hours picking the right outfit just to provoke a reaction?
“Let me know if you need any help with the heavy stuff,” he said and turned around toward the back office.
I let out a long breath and sat down on the chair to regain my breath.
What the hell had just happened? And why did he walk away so unaffected when I felt like I’d been run over by a truck?
There was only one explanation. Wren was as straight as an arrow and Indy was totally wrong.
Wren kept out of my way the rest of the day. I’d almost forgotten he was in the store until I was putting the final touches to the window display.
“Wow.”
“Holy mother of pearls, warn a girl,” I said, clutching the cleaning rag to my chest.
“Sorry,” Wren said with a chuckle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay. So…what do you think?”
My hands shook as he took everything in. He stepped forward and picked up the framed picture.
Out of everything in the display window I didn’t think he’d notice it first.
“This isn’t a stock photo.”
“Erm, no.”
The photo frame was one of Mason’s but the photo in it wasn’t. I just hoped Wren didn’t ask too many questions about it or I’d have to confess to the little personal touch I’d added to the window display.
He looked at me and it was like he saw right into my soul. I’d come in ready for war, and inside I was still mad at Wren for being in the bake-off. Okay, I knew that it was unreasonable to be mad at him, after all, he had the right to enter the competition as much as I did, but with him looking at me like that and the stakes of the competition being so high, at the moment I felt more vulnerable than I had in a long time.
“If it’s okay I’m going home a bit early tonight. I have to practice the cupcakes and my back hurts a little from moving all this stuff around.”
I started walking toward the storeroom door but stopped when Wren grabbed my hand. He let it go when I turned around, and I missed instantly the too-brief warmth of his skin.
“I get it now,” he said in a low voice.
“Get what?”
“Your vision. This”—he held up the photo—“is special, isn’t it?”
“Very much.”
His smile was like a warm embrace, and I needed to get out of there before I did something weird like hugging him.
“Goodnight, Wren.”
“Night, Tom.”
12
Wren
When Tom left I went back to the window. I still had the photo in my hand, so I looked closely at it. It was of two men sitting on a sofa next to a fireplace and between them there was a little boy. It was clearly taken at Christmas because even without the Christmas tree, there were plenty of decorations on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.
Tom had confirmed the photo was real. I wondered who was in it. Was this his family? The photo was old so I couldn’t see Tom’s distinct violet eyes, but I could see the happiness in the child as he looked up at one of the men.
The bell on the door got my attention, and I put the photo back on the mantelpiece of the fake fireplace to go greet my mom, who was walking in with Troy and carrying a bunch of shopping bags.
“We got you everything you need,” Mom said.
“Thank you so much, Mom. Did you find all the right colors?”
She gave me a look.
“Of course you did, because you’re the best Mom in the world.”
“Suck up,” Troy coughed and gave him the finger behind his mom’s back.
“Boys!” she chided. “Oh, the window is finished.”
She went outside the store and we followed her. We stopped in front of the window but a few steps back. I took it all in the same way customers and visitors would as they walked past.
The scene in front of me was Mason’s and it was Pride all in one simple display. I knew now what Tom had tried to capture. There were many LGBTQ families whose lives were no different to anyone else. They watched the same shows on TV, held the same jobs, tried and failed to do the same newspaper crosswords.
There was no need for rainbows or glitter. Sometimes, you are just you.
At the same time this was something many LGBTQ families aspired to have, because they’d been prosecuted, discriminated against, couldn’t get the jobs or the promotions, found no representation on TV.
I looked at the frame again. It was possibly the smallest item on the display but undoubtedly the most important.
Words I wanted to say became stuck in my throat, and my chest ached with the pain of all the secrets I was keeping.
Was I proud of myself? LGBTQ or not, I lived half a life. It was compartmentalized, and because of this I always felt like it wasn’t complete.
“Mom, do you mind closing down for me? I need to do something.”
“Of course, honey.”
I got in my car and drove off. I tried to call Aiden but the call went straight to voicemail.
The high school parking lot was almost empty so I picked a spot close to the football field and parked. I sat in the car staring outside. So many times in the past I’d done the same but back then I’d been psyching myself up for a game.
Every game had been played as if it was the last one because I’d had no pretense that once high school was over I’d need to focus on college and having a real life.
Except I’d been picked up by a scout and suddenly I’d been looking at a lifetime full of game after game, and I’d never need to worry about not playing again. I’d been living the dream.
My injury had been the stark reminder that every dream could still be shattered. I still remembered every single second of the game that had changed my life twelve years ago when I was only eighteen, but I couldn’t even remember who I’d been playing against when I was injured.
I got out of the car toward the football field. The lights were still on, but I didn’t see anyone around, so I walked onto the grass toward the center of the field.
The grass smelled fresh like it had just been watered. The field of the Marinos stadium was artificial turf, as were many these days, but I always missed the real grass of my high school field. I hadn’t even realized how much until I was standing in it, the smell bringing back all the memories.
“Well if it isn’t my best quarterback.”
“Coach Johnson. Man, it’s been a while.”
I gave my old coach a hug and pat on the back.
“Hoping to come back here, son?”
“I’m a little too old, don’t you think?” I laughed.
“I mean as a coach.”
He said it in such a casual manner, I shook my head and blinked to make sure I understood what he was saying.
“Son, I’ve been watching you play since you were this high.” He put his hand up to his hip. “No way I’d stop just because I’d have to see you on TV.”
“So you know about the injury.”
He nodded. “When I asked your parents about you they seemed oblivious so I didn’t press the matter. I figured you wanted to keep it to yourself until you knew the impact of the injury.”
“That was exactly what I did, but then I got the worst news.”
“What are you doing now?”
I laughed. “Coaching high school football.”
Coach Johnson put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Well, son, if you ever wanted to coach high school, say in
a small town, there may be a coach who’s reluctant to let go but very much in need of retiring before the Mrs. takes action into her own hands.”
“How’s Mrs. J.? Does she still make brownies for the team if they win a game?”
“She sure does. I did well when I married that woman. If you haven’t found someone like that, you better get on it. Catcha later. Don’t want to get late for dinner.”
“See ya later, Coach.”
“Think about it,” he said as he walked off, not bothering to have my reply.
His words stayed with me well into the night. Not that I’d do anything with them, because as morning came and I had to think about the next stage of the bake-off, I put Coach Johnson’s words in a box and placed it somewhere deep inside me to come back to later.
The next challenge of the bake-off was to make rainbow cupcakes. I’d watched countless YouTube videos that explained how to make them, but it didn’t make sense to me how it would work. How come the colors didn’t mix when they were in the oven? How did they get such neat stripes of color?
I’d played football in front of large crowds since I was a kid, but the prospect of not only baking but decorating the cupcakes live and in front of an audience made me break out into a sweat.
I followed my mom’s recipe for the vanilla sponge we’d made the other day. The batter looked the same as before. So far, so good. Then came the hard part.
Separating the batter into six equal portions was a mathematical challenge because I didn’t have enough bowls, so I had to be creative, but it meant figuring out how much was in each container when all the containers weighed differently.
Once the batter was done I lined up the cupcake cases in the tin. My mom had given me hers, saying that way the cupcakes wouldn’t spread out.
Opening the little tubes of food coloring should have been its own challenge in the competition because no matter how much I tried, the plastic tips just wouldn’t bend and snap as it said on the picture.
“Right, teeth it is, and if I need a trip to the dentist after this I better win the damned competition.”
I bit the tip of the tube and bent it until I heard it snap, and a bit of liquid dripped from my mouth. Fuck, I hoped to god I hadn’t broken a tooth. I ran my hand over my mouth and it came back red.
My first instinct was to run to the bathroom to check my lip, but I wasn’t in any pain, which was when I realized that I’d opened the tube with the red food coloring and now had spread it over my face with my hands.
I squirted a few drops inside one of the containers and stirred until the batter turned into a pink-ish shade. Unsure if it was safe to add more color, I left it as it was.
One by one I managed to open all the tubes, with various results. I had six containers of rainbow colors, and I also had food coloring all over my face, arms, and I was pretty sure there was some in my hair too.
Six layers of batter later and the cupcakes were ready to go in the oven.
Time to clear up the mess and look in the mirror to assess the damage.
There was a knock on the door as I was on my way to the bathroom, but since it could only be someone in my family I didn’t think twice about opening it.
I was already preparing myself to be the butt of family jokes for years to come when I opened the door and came face-to-face with Tom.
“Oh my god, what happened, are you hurt?”
He touched my face, his fingers rubbing my lip. There was nothing but concern in his eyes, but my traitorous dick decided something else was going on.
“No, it’s just food coloring.”
Tom stood back and I knew he was only now seeing the various patches of color all over me.
He put a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes. His shoulders shook.
“Wait, are you laughing at me?”
“No.” He coughed. “Of course…not.”
Even as he said it he started laughing aloud. I pulled him inside and closed the door.
“Is there anything I can help you with? Or do you just need me for your own entertainment?” I tried to sound incensed, but I would have added additional patches of food coloring if I could keep seeing Tom laughing like this.
His face lit up, and his eyes were bright with tears. He looked so fucking beautiful.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny, and I shouldn’t laugh.”
“Nah, it is funny. You should have seen when I nearly cracked a tooth opening the damned tubes.”
“Smells nice here, have you got a batch in the oven?”
“Yeah. I’m really nervous about doing it in front of people,” I said, running my hands through my hair and coming out with colored streaks on my palms. I sighed.
“As Coco said, you only live once; you might as well be amusing. Make that happen,” he said, gesturing to my colored patches, “and they’ll love you.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Tom smiled and I couldn’t stop smiling back. I became very aware of his presence so close to me. Blood flowed faster through my veins and made me feel dizzy; my breath caught and my fingers itched to touch him.
I raised my hand to his cheek but stopped before I could actually touch him. His mouth opened slightly and his eyes closed. His chest raised and deflated as if he was consciously making sure air flowed through his lungs or he’d faint.
The sound of a car starting outside startled us and in the moment I took my hand back.
“I—” My words were stuck in my throat. Not that I had a chance to say anything before Tom spoke.
“Here,” he said, stretching out his hand to give me an envelope. “Abi asked me to stop by to give you this on my way home.” And then he left.
My parents’ place was in no way on the route to Tom’s place. Why had he come here?
The oven alarm went off so I closed the door and picked up a tea towel to check on the cupcakes. They were clearly over baked. How was I ever going to win that competition? And was it even the competition I wanted to win anymore?
Fuck.
13
Tom
I couldn’t believe I’d nearly kissed Wren.
His reaction to my window had been on replay on my mind, like a circular catwalk but where there was no change in clothing. Then Abi wouldn’t stop telling me all these cute stories about him that didn’t match at all the persona he seemed to put up around me.
When she’d asked me to deliver an envelope with documents to Wren I couldn’t say no, after all she was my boss. But she’d dressed it like it was only a small detour on my way home when it was nothing but. I hadn’t realized until I was nearly there that the address she’d given me was their address but for a separate apartment above the garage.
I’d decided to just put the letter in the mailbox but then there wasn’t one, and I didn’t know how important the documents were. As a last attempt I’d rung the bell on the main house, hoping Troy would be in but there had been no answer.
Abi had told me that Jonas had started going for small walks around the block with Troy to build up his strength, so I’d been left with no choice but to knock on the door of the apartment.
After witnessing Jonas’s heart attack, when I saw Wren covered in red I’d panicked and then couldn’t stop laughing when he’d clarified it was food coloring.
I’d had my own struggles with the food coloring tubes sold in the grocery store, but Indy had said to use scissors to cut through the plastic lid to make it easier to snap. My food coloring disaster had been contained to the kitchen work surface.
As soon as I’d recovered from the laughing fit, I’d become very aware of how close we’d been to each other and how Wren’s gaze burned into my skin.
I didn’t know what had been going through his head but inside mine there had been a giant flashing billboard saying kiss him, kiss him. As he’d raised his hand to nearly cup my face, I’d known I was going to do it, but fortunately a car noise outside had brought me to my senses.
I shouldn’t kiss him because
he was straight—even if I had my doubts about that at the moment—but at least he was in the closet and there was no way I’d be with someone who wasn’t out. Then there was the fact he was my boss and that there was a whole country between us.
And then there was that itty bitty detail of him being my rival at the bake-off. I hadn’t paid any attention to the other contestants that first day of the bake-off, something I now regretted because I had no clue who my competition was.
When I walked back into the high school gym I was a ball of nerves. I was afraid that all the crap going through my head would screw up my concentration, and I was even more afraid that my competition was just too good. I had so much riding on this bake-off, I didn’t even want to consider how I’d feel if I didn’t win.
There were three rows of worktops, and as I approached I saw there were name cards at each end, so I looked for mine.
A girl with long blonde hair tied in two plaits on either side of her head smiled at me.
“Hi, I’m Amy, is this nerve-racking or what?” She held the end of one of her plaits and started playing with it.
“Oh god, yeah, I couldn’t even sleep last night,” I said. “I’m Tom.”
I found my name and started looking at the items on the top. We could practice the challenges in our own time but for the bake-off days they provided us with all the ingredients. A quick assessment reassured me I had everything I’d asked for.
The other contestants came in shortly after, as well as the supporters who had started filling the bleachers on either side. I was glad the organizers got our stations to face the door rather than the bleachers, because it was easier to ignore the crowd if it was in my periphery.
I heard my name being called and looked to see who it was. Halfway up the bleachers, sitting all in a row, I saw Indy, Ellie, Ben, Tristan, and Connor. I ran up to greet them.
“If you’re coming to witness my humiliation you better have fully charged batteries on your cellphones,” I joked, but they all took their phones out of their pockets and looked at them.
